An Immortal's Favour

Jack- Getting Somewhere

*

I placed a cup of steaming, black tea over the coffee table in the family lounge and flicked open a newspaper. It was early in the morning- around half seven, and Mother had just left for her office. I'd tried calling Gale but had gotten no answer, so I left a message for her to call back.

The weather was nice that day; the rain had let up a bit and the sun peeked through the thick clouds, making the raindrops on the windows glisten. It would've been a shame to spend the rest of it cooped up inside. I folded up the newspaper, placed beside the tea, and patted around my pockets for my car keys.

The drive into town was quiet, relaxing. As I left the neighbourhood behind, the ash-grey stone pavements gave way to rougher land, now muddy with rain from the night before. But still, kids scampered about, playing ball by the roads, laughing with such mirth that only a cold-hearted person could look on without so much as a grin. The houses around along the roads were more modest, but they had a sturdiness and simplicity that I liked.

After pulling into a car park, I thought about what to do that day before remembering that I'd promised Gale to get our photographs processed. My first stop of the day was at that good photo shop on the edge of the shopping district. But, with a couple of hours to wait until my prints were ready, I didn't know what to do with the rest of my morning. Just walking around wouldn't be so bad; I had the rest of my trip to do more exciting things, anyway.

Apart from a few persistent photographers, who were, thankfully, always at a reasonable distance away, there wasn't much else to bother me. The streets were busy, yes- but they were nothing like the chaos that plagued Gomi day in and day out. Though, after visiting that city, who could really be surprised by this? Rachon, unlike the Egordish capital, didn't have the same flamboyancy and there were three shops in Gomi for every one that I passed in the shopping district, and whether that's a good or bad thing, I'll leave for someone else to decide. As much as I loved Gomi, it wasn't Rachon.

While doing some window shopping, I thought about Gale. I found myself wanting to hear another story of hers, strange as it might sound. It'd be a lie to say I hadn't missed her company during the past few days. But, thinking about the sort of petty things we'd said to one another, I could've died of guilt; maybe I'd been too hard on her.

I was back at the house by one in the afternoon, clutching my parcel of photographs in one hand. Half an hour later, the rain started pouring again, and I thanked my lucky stars that I'd gotten back to the house just in time. Over the next couple of minutes, I'd sifted through the pictures already and got up to call Gale again when somebody knocked on the door to the family lounge. One of the younger maids came forward.

"Afternoon," I said. She handed me a damp parcel and left, returning my greeting.

Whatever was inside didn't seem too heavy, and the parcel itself was no larger than the photographs splayed over the coffee table. Pulling the brown wrapping off, I smiled, shaking my head when the paper revealed pictures that Gale must've taken while I was away. Some were kind of blurry, but the fact that she'd decided to take and send them at all really sat well with me.

I stared at them much longer than I should have. Here she was, putting in the effort to do something nice for me, and- there. Again. That familiar thud of regret I'd been subject to lately reverberated through my chest.

Among the pile of pictures were those of Gomi's various landmarks and buildings, even photographs of the torches used to line the streets during the music festival. My thoughts lingered on the little trick Gale had pulled with the fire. Despite my time with her and all the years of having to endure listening to Mother, Father, and half my friends go on about the immortals, casting was something that continued to elude me. I mean, the belief was gradually working its way through me, but getting used to the idea of it was something else.

I lowered the pictures down to my lap and sat in a comfortable silence. A low ache, almost imperceptible, began to build in my temples slowly because of course, of course. It had to be.

Casting.

Of all the things to turn my father's head into muck, why not this? And I wasn't even surprised by how long it'd taken me to think of it; I'd have probably brushed the idea off had it come into my head sooner.

Phone receiver in hand, I dialled for Mother's office.

"Manu," she addressed me, after my gabbling came to a stop, her voice barely above a whisper. "I think we're getting somewhere."

Hearing those words out loud, hearing her confirm my own suspicions shifted the giant weight on my shoulders by a fraction.

"I think so. I think we really are."

"We'll have a proper discussion about this when I get home. But, for now, do what you can and find out more. I'll see you this evening."

"See you then."

*

Discussion: Finally, Jacob's making some progress! But how exactly does casting fit into this? Using what you've learnt from previous chapters, share your ideas in the comments below!

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