Disharmony

‘Are we still at the Carnivale?’

He stared at his shoes. Not good.

‘It’s just out there, Samantha,’ said Sera, nodding towards the blue door. ‘Take a look.’

She raced across the tiles and grabbed the door handle, pausing for just a moment. What if the ninjas were still there and they spotted her? There was nowhere to hide in here. She’d be cornered. But the need to know was too strong.

She hid her body behind the door and cracked it carefully, peering out into the night. She knew that with the bright lighting behind her inside this freaky room she’d be lit up as though on stage, but she had to see what was going on.

She could glimpse just a little from this angle. The gravel road of the carni met the front door of the Funhouse, and she spotted the food tent opposite; it looked like the same one she’d seen when the ninjas were chasing her. But now it seemed to be closed for the night. A couple of carnis walked by, smoking and talking; she could hear them grumbling about losing money.

It appeared as though this room was just a few metres down from the Ghost Train, right where she’d been standing when Tamas had been hit by the star.

But that can’t be right, she thought. I would definitely have noticed this place.

She could see strobing police lights against the night sky, but not the spot where Tamas had fallen. She needed to move further out the door to see what was going on.

‘Can we turn the lights off in here?’ she hissed, frustrated that she hadn’t thought of doing so earlier.

‘They can’t see you, Samantha,’ said Sera. ‘You can open the door as much as you like. Just don’t try to go out there.’

Samantha gave Sera a tight smile and turned back to the door, rolling her eyes. Yeah, like I’m gonna listen to the crazy woman. Still, she could see no light switch by the door, so she risked showing a little more of herself in order to see further down the street.

And there he was. Tamas! Her hand flew to her throat. He was on a stretcher, medics bending over him, and in a huddle behind him were Mirela and Luca, Hanzi and Shofranka. They looked exhausted and upset. A police car waited behind them, its lights flashing.

That was enough for her. The police had scared the ninjas off last time – well, with a little help from Gudada and his pistola – so she decided she’d take her chances. I’m not going to hide in here all night, she thought. She stepped out the door.

And found herself back in the red velvet chair.

‘What the hell just happened?’

‘Imperceptible spell,’ said Sera, now sitting cross-legged on the tiles.

Birthday Jones leaned against the candied wall, near the mirror. He rubbed a hand across his forehead and still would not meet Sam’s eyes.

‘Say what?’ Sam said, moving forward and standing over the woman, her fists clenched.

‘An imperceptible spell,’ said Sera.

While Samantha stared, incredulous, the woman pulled an emery board from her pocket. ‘It means that no one can see the Funhouse,’ she continued, filing her nails. ‘It also means that no one can go in or out of that door.’

Samantha grappled to stay patient with the lunatic. She tried for logic. ‘Well, how did we get in here then?’

Seraphina used her nailfile to point to the mirror.

Samantha closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She spoke quietly. ‘Listen, lady,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what kind of drugs you’re taking or what kind you should be taking, and I don’t know what you’ve done to my so-called friend over there…’ The volume pumped up with the last few words. ‘But I am getting the hell out of here.’

‘Sam -’ Birthday walked towards her, arm outstretched, his face miserable.

‘Don’t,’ she said, hands held out towards him like a stop sign.

Her heart ached at the realisation that he was not the person she thought he was. What was he doing not even trying to help her?

‘Birthday, it’s okay, let her go,’ said Sera.

‘Like he could stop me,’ said Samantha, marching back to the door, yanking on the crystal doorknob and heading out into the night.

Back on the velvet chair, she screamed and then burst into tears.

Elizabeth Bay, Sydney, Australia

July 1, 1.30 p.m.

‘So, what else do you know?’ said Luke.

The toasted sandwich and orange juice had gone a long way towards making him feel normal again. Well, towards what he thought normal was supposed to feel like.

Georgia was still upstairs. He pulled the chocolate cake from the fridge. As confused as he was about everything – Zac, himself… hell, the whole world – his greatest wish at the moment was that Toad could see him right now.

‘Wait,’ he said, before Zac could speak. ‘You say you’re magic. Is there any way you could make Toad watch me eat this cake while he’s still sitting in Dwight?’

Zac studied his nails. ‘You’re not taking this very seriously, Luke,’ he said.

‘But I would seriously like Toad to watch me eat this cake in this house.’

‘You’re the psychopath, Luke. A lot of people will be looking for you right now.’

Luke left the cake on the bench and shut the door to the fridge. He leaned his back against it to have contact with something solid, real.

‘The psychopath,’ said Luke. ‘Not a psychopath. You said the psychopath.’

Zac said nothing, just met his eyes.

A grey cat, mean-faced and battle-scarred, limped – as though with arthritic knees – in an ungainly swagger into the kitchen. The small cat tried to leap onto a benchtop; failed. Instead, it propped against a cupboard, cleaning its face, as though nothing at all had happened.

‘So I’m the psychopath,’ Luke continued. ‘What does that mean, Zac? Am I gonna become, like, the new Hannibal Lecter?’

‘Not all psychopaths are serial killers, Luke.’

‘Well, that’s a relief. Because otherwise I’m a long way behind all the other psychopaths in my career so far.’

‘You’re still not taking this seriously,’ said Zac.

‘Well, you’re still speaking in tongues,’ said Luke.

Zac moved silently across the marble floor tiles and stopped in front of the little grey cat. He squatted. There was silence for a beat and suddenly the cat reared up on its hind legs, mouth open, teeth bared, hissing. Doubled now in size, the fur on its back and tail standing bolt upright, it made a lightning-fast vicious swipe for Zac’s face. Zac rocked backwards in a move that would have put anyone else on their arse. The cat missed. Zac hissed. And the little grey warrior limped painfully out of the kitchen.

‘I think these cats are spies,’ said Zac.

‘Spies,’ said Luke.

They stared at each other.

Zac looked away first.

Luke sighed deeply. ‘Are we gonna talk properly, Nguyen, or do you wanna tell me more about the 007 cats?’

Zac looked away from Luke for a moment, and then stood. ‘More than five thousand years ago,’ he said, ‘there