Chapter 2
Billy stares up at the ceiling.
In the other bed, Tommy faces away from him. He can’t be sure that Tommy’s asleep, but it’s not like it matters either way. Tommy hasn’t even looked at him all day, much less spoken to him, and he doesn’t know how to feel about it. They’ve never fought before, not really. Their fights in the past were always teasing, sarcastic, the things they said never meant to be taken to heart. But this time, this time was different, with all its harsh accusations and spiteful comments.
They’ve never accused each other of anything before, never said anything mean to each other or been on a different page before. And now they are, all because of a girl that neither of them really likes anyway.
Billy rubs at his eyes as he plods into the dining room. He’s barely slept, and exhaustion makes his eyes itchy and sticky. He doesn’t like it, but doesn’t know how to make the feeling going away.
Tommy’s already sat at the table with a plate piled high with food before him. He’s situated himself in amongst the soldiers, with every seat around him already occupied. Billy’s heart sinks as he looks up and down the table. The only empty chairs are the ones around Agatha, who sits almost entirely alone - Sigmund sits to her right, and Irena’s carrier is up on the table in front of her - at the far end of the table with several empty spaces separating them from everyone else.
He walks over to the buffet table and picks up a plate. Bacon, sausages, beans and toast go onto it, with a small handful of margarine cartons going into his pocket and a glass of orange juice fitting into his hand. It’s probably too much for him to eat, but there’s no one there to stop him from gathering all of it up anyway.
He feels eyes - he thinks they might be Tommy’s - upon him as he crosses the room and puts his food down in front of the chair directly opposite Agatha. She looks up at him with a strained smile as he pulls out the chair, the sound of its legs scraping against the wood panelled floor seeming all too loud against the backdrop of quiet, muted conversation that otherwise fills the room. He takes note of the way that dark circles make tired grey eyes look darker than they really are, wonders what’s made them that way.
“Hi,” she says. “Were you able to get any sleep at all last night, or did you decide that it was a lost cause in the end?”
“How did you know I didn’t sleep?!” he asks, his voice a little higher than expected.
She taps her left temple with her index finger. “You’re not the only one who has the ability to see into other peoples minds, Billy.”
He recoils a little at that, shrinking down into his chair. On the one hand, it’s nice to know that there’s someone else like him out there, able to help him filter out the noise and teach him how to use the skills it comes with. On the other hand, he’s not sure he likes the fact that Agatha can see all the things he thinks and feels. “Do you use it all the time?” he asks.
She shakes her head, eyes turning down to her own plate. “I keep my mind well-protected against all outside sources,” she admits, stabbing half-heartedly at the half-eaten remains of a grilled tomato. “If I don’t want to see or hear anything from another person’s mind, I don’t.”
Billy’s frown deepens. “Is that why you’re quiet on the inside?”
She nods. “The mind is a two-way street, Billy. If something can get out, anything can get in.”
“So,” he drags out the single syllable word as he turns the statement over in his mind. “You know I didn’t sleep last night ‘cause I can’t stop my thoughts from leaving my head?”
Agatha’s brows draw together, creases appearing across the bridge of her nose. “It’s not that they leave your head so much as you broadcast them out to the world. Any one who can read thoughts would be able to read yours in real time, as you’re thinking them.”
“Like a TV?”
Agatha laughs at that. “Yes, like a TV.”
“What’s so funny?” he asks, confused by her laughter.
“Nothing,” she shakes her head with an amused smile. “Just the thought that you wouldn’t be your mother’s son if you didn’t have a thing for television.”
“What makes you say that?”
“There are many things out there that broadcast in supposed ‘real time’, Billy, many of which I’m sure you’re also familiar with, and yet you went straight for the TV analogy.”
He opens his mouth, ready to ask like what?. He doesn’t though, instead closing his mouth as something akin to an answer flickers unprompted through his mind. His nose wrinkles as he looks inwards, grabbing for the thoughts that make up this answer. Radio. Livestreams. Videos premiering on Youtube. Maybe some video games?
“Okay,” he says, accepting Agatha’s point just as she shovels a spoonful of baked beans into her mouth. “What am I supposed to do about it?”
Agatha blinks, pressing the back of her left hand to her lips as she swallows down the beans. “Do about what?” she asks, concern creasing her brow. “I meant it as a compliment when I said that you take after Wanda in your obsession with TV. Did I miss the mark with that one?”
Billy waves Agatha’s concern away. “Don’t worry, I took it that way,” he says, and she seems to be placated by his words, though some hesitancy does still linger in her eyes. “I meant about, like, protecting my mind,” he clarifies. “How would I do that?”
Agatha bites down on her bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood. Her tongue darts out to lick away the liquid. “I . . . I could teach you the basics,” she offers slowly, cautiously. “Anything more than that, and I would have to enter your mind, which I doubt you trust me enough to do.” She meets his eyes, a mix of hope and anxiety in her eyes. “But I can walk you through a few things to get you started without having to go that far.”
He considers her offer.
“Okay,” he agrees. “Lets do it.”
Tommy watches through the bookshelves as Billy sits at Agatha’s side, following her every move with sharp, eager eyes. He can’t hear what’s being said - Irena’s asleep, the teething ring crammed into her mouth; as a result, Agatha’s voice is hushed, and therefore is much too low for her words to travel any great distance - but that doesn’t mean he has to be happy about this development. He scowls at them, a disgruntled, wordless grumble rising up in the back of his throat.
Unhappy thoughts darken his mind as he continues to watch them. What if Agatha’s turning Billy away from him? What if she’s trying to make him forget about their mum so that she can slide in and take her place? What if he never gets his brother back?
This was not how things were supposed to go. They were supposed to keep Agatha close at hand so that they could observe her, get to know her, make notes of all her strengths and weaknesses. Then, when mum got back from wherever it was that she had gone, they could free her from whatever spell she’d been put under - ‘cause there’s no way mum would willingly love someone like Agatha, right? - and be the heroes they were born to be by taking Agatha down, once and for all.
What they weren’t supposed to be doing, was getting attached to her.
He doubts this will end well for anyone.
“Have I done something to upset Tommy?” Agatha asks. She can feel hardened, angry eyes boring into her back through the gaps in the shelves of the bookcases that separate her and Billy from where Tommy’s sat several feet away. “I thought he liked me?”
Billy lifts his left shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “He’s still a little stuck on the whole ‘you held us hostage’ thing.”
Agatha bites down on her bottom lip, nods reluctantly. “Is there anything I can do, to make it up to both of you?”
Billy frowns, lips turning down as he considers his options. “Do you know where mum is?”
“If the portal in Salem took us all to the same place, then yes. But we haven’t yet been able to confirm that it did, and the information we’ve gathered so far hasn’t exactly been the most helpful.”
“So . . . ?”
“We’re trying to confirm Wanda’s location before we plunge headfirst into trying to rescue her.”
“Why?”
“Because, if we’re wrong about where she is, then we’ll have just wasted time and energy pursuing an avenue of action that we would have known would be a dead end had we just done a few hours more research.”
Billy looks down at the small pile of books that sits on Agatha’s other side. The top one is a plain black moleskin notebook with a pen slotted into a loop stitched into the book’s back cover. Three books of varying thickness and size sit beneath it, with the biggest on the bottom. The pile’s a lot smaller than it once was, and it seems to get smaller every few days, though he’s never seen Agatha actually doing any work to progress through it.
“Is that what your notebook is for?”
She nods, picks it up. She pulls the pen out of its loop and sets it down on the carpet beneath her knee before holding the book out to Billy. “I’m not sure how much of it you’ll be able to understand, but you’re welcome to take a look.”
He takes the notebook and opens it. Neat, looping handwriting fills the pages, with the notes recorded on the page divided up by the title of the book they were taken from and a few empty lines. A handful of roughly done sketches further serve to break up the dense walls of text, though they appear to have no real meaning or contribution to make, beyond looking pretty.
“Is this everything?” he asks.
“No, it’s just the research I’ve gathered. Darcy’s been consolidating and digitising everything, so we should be able to identify the most effective course of action once we’ve exhausted all of the known sources of information.”
“So, everyone here’s working on this?”
Agatha hums in absent confirmation. “Everyone with magic, yes.”
Billy looks up from the notebook, face creased into an expression that looks akin to what one might expect to see on a child right before they say or do something either incredibly intelligent, or incredibly stupid. “Can non-magic people join in?” he asks.
Agatha shrugs. “I don’t see why not.”
Billy’s face lights up. “Me and Tommy can help!”
Agatha seems to recoil, startled, as he all but yells in her ear. At her side, Irena sqwaks in protest at being so unceremoniously woken up. Billy’s already stumbling clumsily to his feet though, notebook in hand, apparently oblivious to the reactions he’s caused, even as multiple pairs of eyes from around the room turn towards them. His feet pound against the thin carpet that covers the floor as he rushes to his brother, voice low and conspiratorial as he shows Tommy the notebook, tells him everything.
She can hear the scepticism in Tommy’s voice as he answers Billy, probably asking him how can can be so sure that she’s telling the truth. Nervous sweat begins to trickle down her spine as she pushes lightly at the edge of Irena’s carrier, sends it rocking gently on its runners. Irena gurgles unevenly around teething ring, her eyes already drooping as she slides back into sleep.
Shadows fall across her vision, blocking the golden glow of the artificial lights from view. She looks up, sees Tommy looming above her with the notebook in hand. He holds it out as he looks down at her, brows furrowed as she takes it from his grip. “Billy said that we can help with the research to bring mum back.”
Agatha nods. “We’re almost done with the resources we have at hand, but two more pairs of eyes could help us finish quicker.”
“And the quicker you’re done, the sooner you can bring mum back?”
“Hopefully, yes.”
Tommy scowls at her, unhappy with her answer. He accepts it anyway though, and sits down by her side. “Where do we start, then?”