Saul doesn’t speak, but there’s a sudden hitch in his breath, and I know he has no interest in going anywhere that isn’t with Millie.
“That’s not our concern at the moment,” Millie says as we pull in to the next stop, and I’m relieved she’s changing the subject.
Millie takes both of my hands, drawing my gaze to hers. “First we need to practice awareness.” Her instructions are nearly drowned out by the chaos of passengers jostling on and off the car, but I realize it’s a boon to us, offering anonymity amid the noise and crowds. “Go into that plane where you can see the curses. Identify those in this car—there are two I can pinpoint right now—then when you come back to us, try to hang on to that connection. Try to keep seeing the curses on this plane.”
“Okay.” I draw a breath and ease my shoulders back. It’s easier now than when I first tried this. I’m sliding away from the waking world and into the strange, sepia tones of the background. Pleased that I can keep my breathing steady, I begin to search the subway car for signs of a curse. The buzzing has vanished, or rather it’s become the natural sounds of this plane—the magical plane. It’s as if the grating sounds that filled my head on the subway platform were nothing more than the nagging of this strange place, demanding my attention.
The first curse is easy to spot. And I’m aghast that its victim is a man seated opposite Millie and me. My cheeks get hot as I think of how patient she’s being with such a novice—someone who can’t even see a curse that’s right in front of her. I shove aside my embarrassment and focus on the spell. It’s different from those I spotted with Laurie. The shape of it is fixed and hard, like a transparent box floating around the man’s head. The sound it gives off is a steady pulse accompanied by a strobe-light-style flashing. Forcing myself to relax even more, I push my senses towards the curse, hoping to understand it. Slowly the spell gives up its history.
Like the curse of the artist in the park, this man is suffering mentally. The curse is one of disruption. He’s a consultant with a presentation in thirty minutes and he can’t focus. The jarring pulse of the curse impedes his memory, forcing the long-practiced hook and pitch out of his mind. It’s making him miserable, fraying his confidence with each minute. I wonder if the curse is personal or some sort of corporate sabotage.
Despite my sympathy for the man, I move on, wanting to find the other curse and continue my lesson with Millie. The second curse is harder to spot. It’s faint, barely more than wisps circling a teenage girl standing at the far end of the car. The thin lines of smoke dance around her body, not constraining her but doing damage all the same. I grimace. Though this spell is less serious, it’s still cruel. My guess is that it’s some prank born of a mean spirit alone. The girl is trying to get home and she takes this train every day. But today she’s lost. She can’t figure out why she’s so confused or why the subway map makes no sense. She’s getting frantic, but I can tell by watching the curse slip over her limbs that it has little endurance and is fading by the minute.
I’m starting to understand what Millie meant by a nice variety of curses. Even in the short time I’ve been exposed to this strange, hidden world, I’m astounded by the range of curses that exist. Some are like the one I’m gazing at now—small and petty, wicked jokes that trip up lives but don’t do permanent harm; others, like that affecting the man across from us, that could not only ruin his day but have the potential to destroy his career; and yet others—like Stephen’s—that are powerful and evil, enough to kill.
Nausea sucker-punches me and I want to reel back from this plane. But I can’t. I’m determined to be a good student in this lesson. So instead of jolting back to reality, I inch up little by little, keeping part of my senses in tune with the two curses I’ve seen. And then I’m back in my body. The colors and sounds of the world I know return. Millie is watching me. Saul continues to patrol the car with his eye.
“Well?” Millie asks.
I nod towards the man across from us when I notice I can still see the strobe light flicker in the air around his head.
“Him.” My eyes roam to the girl at the back of the car. She’s flicking tears away from the corners of her eyes as they appear, trying to hide her panic. “And her.” The wisps are still floating around her body. On this plane I could almost have mistaken them for cigarette smoke.
Millie nods. “Very good. Can you still see the curses?”
“Yes.”
“She’s a quick learner.” Millie smiles up at Saul, who shrugs.
The train halts at the next stop. The cursed man stands up, shaking his head as he leaves the car. A swell of bodies pours into the car, cramming against us, though I notice many try, and fail, to give Saul a wide berth. He angles himself closer so his looming form is directly over Millie and me.
“There’s another,” Millie says. “A new curse came aboard with this lot. Can you find it?”
I nod, starting to ease myself away from the din of the crowded car. Millie grabs my shoulder and shakes me.
“No, no.” She sweeps her hand towards the other passengers. “You have to try to see it on this plane without going into your background.”
“Okay.” I’m not feeling that confident, but I start by focusing on the girl again. I can barely find her through the press of people in the car. But I glimpse her partially and watch the smoke trails move around her. Taking note of the way it feels to see that curse on this plane, I slowly look over the car’s other occupants.
It’s the sound that directs my vision. That insistent drone of the background nagging me, drawing my senses. The woman is standing two poles down from Saul. To describe her as bedraggled would be generous. Her hair is a rat’s nest of knots and filth. Her eyes are sunken and shadowed by purple dark enough to be bruises, but I can tell it’s a symptom of exhaustion. Her thin fingers are trembling even as she grips the pole, struggling to keep her balance. She is a ghost walking through the human world.
The sound that drew me to her sharpens in focus. The buzz of the spell becomes a wail; keening, ceaseless. It’s so horrible I want to cover my ears, desperate to shut out its piercing whine. As I watch her, the curse shows itself. Unlike most, this curse is barely moving. It lies over her, dark and heavy, like a cloak meant to smother her, lacking the frenetic quality of so many of the spells I’d witnessed. This thick curse gloms onto her like tar.