Chapter 3 | Halos Are Promise Rings For The Dead
[Song of choice: M.I.A. // Sexodus]
The next night, Jack and I camp outside Remington Manor with binoculars and sleeping bags, spying on the Remington boys as they gather in their royal garden of pillars and fountains, wearing black billowing cloaks, satin top hats and their cutting edge stage makeup. I smile darkly to myself, pleased that I no longer have to steal their blueprints for the stage since they're carelessly showcasing their trick tonight.
The moon hangs directly above us like an opal necklace and the spring air is alive with pesky fireflies. I swat a few with my ringed fingers-elaborate ropes of iron, twisted like sultry snakes, jewelled with sacred stones-but the fireflies pay no mind to my curses, almost as if they know that we're trespassing.
"This is a such stupid idea," Jack complains, careful to keep his voice hushed, huddled in his sleeping bag like a grey caterpillar.
"Be quiet."
"Last year you nearly got us expelled for violating the rules. Madame Penelope said that any meddling will result in forfeiting the crown."
"So quit whining and take notes before the Remingtons spot us."
"Why do I always have to take notes?"
"Because you're my assistant so shut the hell up before I make you."
Jack quietens when I win our glaring competition. I cup my flask of tea in my hand and blow the steam off before taking a sip. We've both been shivering in the brisk air for close to two hours yet the Remington boys have done nothing but argue over stage lines and who stands where. Jack sniggers too loudly when the twins run into each other and fly backwards from the impact. It's worse than watching a badly choreographed dance.
When they finally take their positions-a triangle surrounding a poor attempt at a campfire-Karl uses a knobbly staff to trace a hexagram into the dry soil. He gestures to the twins to trace thick roads of salt along the lines. Instantly, the lines of earth breathe fire and the Remington twins jump back, stunned. Karl taps his staff again and the six corners of the star burn brighter. I feel the urge to roll my eyes at his poor showmanship. Why are the Remingtons always so sombre? Even from afar, I can see their thin, red stained lips sealed shut and their heavily powdered faces shadowed.
"He's stealing my hexagram," I hiss to Jack who is scribbling furiously in the palm sized notepad. "That thieving bastard."
"Why does it matter? Pentagram, hexagram, whatever. . . they all does the same thing." He chuckles at his own joke. "They make things look pretty. Aren't they like flowers to a garden? Useless in practice but nice to look at."
"No, they're not." I grit my teeth together. "God, haven't you read the Sacred Geometry textbook from Professor Yugi's class?"
"I don't need to." Jack affectionately flicks my nose. "You're always available to answer all my questions."
I shoot him a dark look to which he responds with a cheeky smile. "I shouldn't have taught the entire class about hexagrams. I didn't think that Karl would be smart enough to incorporate it into his trick." Jack's smile moves to his eyes. They prickle with interest so, like a schoolteacher, I continue, "Hexagrams combine all four physical elements, but not in the same way a pentagram does. You know about the elemental opposites, right?"
He gives me a deadpan look. "Duh. Doesn't everyone? Fire and Water are opposites, as are Air and Earth. When combined there is a balance."
"Exactly, but when you combine Fire with another element that isn't Water, then the balance is disturbed."
