Strangeworlds Travel Agency Page 4

  “Right.” She looked up at the wall of suitcases. “There’s one missing,” she pointed out.

  “Yes.” Jonathan glanced up. “It’s… in use, at the moment.”

  She watched his face. He looked entirely serious. And, the embarrassing thing was, Flick actually wanted this to be real. She was a heartbeat away from believing him. But… “This is just pretend, isn’t it?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “It isn’t a game, Felicity. Use the magnifying glass again, if you wish. You’re too clever not to trust your own eyes.”

  “But magic isn’t real!”

  “Says who?”

  “Says everyone!” Flick folded her arms. She wasn’t about to let Jonathan make fun of her. “I’m not stupid and I’m not a baby. I don’t believe in magical suitcases. Or other worlds. Whatever those bits of glass show, it’s not magic. It’s a trick. Like when someone’s grandad makes coins appear from behind your ears. Pulling rabbits out of hats.”

  Jonathan grinned. “I can see you’re an expert, so I won’t hide anything from you. Let us consider the rabbit-out-of-the-hat trick. Where, let me ask you, does the rabbit come from?”

  “Out of the hat.” She frowned.

  “But how does it get in there?”

  She hesitated. “I guess… someone puts it in? Or it’s in the magician’s pocket? Or something?”

  “Or something.” Jonathan nodded. He got up, went behind the desk, and opened the cabinet door below the drawers. He stood again, holding an old top hat.

  “What’s that?” Flick asked.

  “Magician’s hat,” Jonathan said, giving the crown a quick dust with his hand. “Obviously. My grandfather found it in the back room. We think it was probably a practical joke from when the travel agency first opened. He used to try to supplement the shop’s income by doing children’s parties. All that went belly-up when one of the kids stuck their arm into the hat when he left it unattended. Now…” Jonathan put the hat down on the desk, made a show of twirling his fingers dramatically, and then stuck a hand inside.

  Then his forearm. And then all the way up to his shoulder.

  Flick gasped.

  Jonathan rummaged around for a moment, then pulled his arm back out—alas, without anything in his hand.

  “Must be a slow rabbit day.” He inspected the hat crossly.

  Flick shot out of the chair feeling like her whole body was buzzing with shock or fear. “How… how did you do that?” she demanded. “You stuck your whole arm in!”

  He raised his eyebrows. “How do you think I did it?”

  “It’s a trick.” Flick shook her head. “There’s a sliding bit on the desk or something.”

  He tossed her the hat. “You try it then.”

  Flick stuck her hand in, feeling for the top of the hat, the trick bit that would twist away into a trick compartment where it rested on the desk.

  Except it never came. Her hand dropped down into nothing. Her arm was in right up to her shoulder and yet somehow her hand wasn’t sticking out of the top. Her fingers brushed against something spiky yet soft. She yelped and flung the hat away. “There’s something in there!”

  “It’s only grass.” Jonathan picked up the hat. “The rabbits eat it, I expect.”

  Flick bent down and picked the hat up. It was slightly dusty, with a faded green velvet ribbon above the brim. Ordinary. But… she thought again about the glittering dust in the air. The stuff Jonathan had said was magic.

  This is real, a voice said inside her. This is actually, properly, real.

  Flick didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She could feel a sort of kernel of hysteria threatening to pop in her chest. She peeped into the hat, half expecting to see floppy ears and whiskers pointing back at her. “You’re telling me that rabbits live in that hat?”

  “Don’t be so absurd. Of course they don’t live in the hat,” Jonathan said, picking the hat up and waving it around impatiently. “Use your head.”

  Flick stared at the twirling headgear. If it had shot into the air like a helicopter she wouldn’t have been surprised. “It goes somewhere?” she said.

  “Yes. In a manner of speaking,” Jonathan said. He put the hat down and cast a hand around at the suitcase-stacked shelves. “And it isn’t the only thing that goes somewhere. Every single one of these suitcases leads to a different place.”

  The excitement-kernel in Flick’s chest exploded. She gripped the back of one of the armchairs, her legs feeling as though they might give way in shock. She knew her mouth was open, but she didn’t care. “The suitcases take you to other places? How?”

  “You simply step inside.”

  Disbelief gave way to fiery curiosity and Flick shot over to the wall of suitcases as though she were on a track. They take you to other places? “And you go to… like… like… to another dimension?” She touched one of the handles with the tips of her fingers.

  “Don’t be absurd,” Jonathan snorted. “You go to other worlds in the multiverse.”

  “Multiverse. Not universe?”

  “Correct. Within each case is a schism—a tear in the fabric of reality—that acts as a gateway from our world to another.” He put his hand back into the hat. This time, his eyes went wide, and he drew his arm out.

  In his hand, caught by the scruff of the neck, was a white rabbit, looking somewhat nonplussed, a dandelion hanging out of its mouth.

  “There,” Jonathan said proudly. “I told you so.”

  Once the rabbit was safely returned to the top hat, Flick sat in the window seat and considered her options. Her first instinct was to ask one hundred million questions. Her second was to try and be logical, to try and make sense of it all. If magic was real… It felt as if her entire world had been knocked off-balance. She wanted to run out of the travel agency and ask everyone if they knew. Could there really be a secret this big?

  Jonathan watched her internal wrangling for a moment, and then went to put the kettle on. He made a pot of tea and brought it out on a tray with some cups and an actual milk jug, like he was someone’s grandma. After going through a complicated routine with a tea strainer and half a dozen spoons, he held out a china cup of tea. “For the shock,” he said, presenting Flick with it and a plate of pink frosted ring cookies.

  Flick swallowed some of the tea, wishing there was sugar in it and fewer flecks of black from the loose-leaf tea. She looked around her, at the piles of cases, the suitcases set into the walls, the big trunk on the floor. Flick thought it felt quite homely. And yet hiding such a secret. A secret she knew! Flick squashed down the urge to wriggle in delight. She felt as if she was carrying the secret in her pocket, like a pet. “So,” she said at last.

  “So.” Jonathan folded himself back into the opposite armchair.

  “These suitcases are full of other worlds?” Saying it out loud made Flick want to laugh nervously, but Jonathan looked utterly serious.

  “Yes.” He sipped from his own cup. “It’s my responsibility to look after them. I’m the Head Custodian.”

  “Just you? I thought you said there was a Society?”

  “Oh, there is.” He nodded. “But only one Head Custodian. I make sure everyone else in the Society does as they’re meant to.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “To do right by all manner of worlds with regard to the laws and practices of their realm and ours,” he reeled off. “That’s part of the pledge members take when they become part of the Strangeworlds Society.”

  Flick stared in confusion. “And what does that mean?”

  Jonathan’s mouth twitched. “It means that Society members promise to look after all the worlds they visit, as well as this one. And to respect the laws or rules of wherever they travel to.”

  Flick pointed at the neatly framed photographs on the wall. “Were they all members of the Strangeworlds Society?”

  “Yes, some of the very first. The Society is one hundred and forty-seven years old, you know.”

  Flick gazed at the peo
ple in their walking boots, knitted hats, and weatherproof coats. “They look like explorers.”

  “That’s because they are. Were,” Jonathan corrected himself. “There are hundreds of suitcases here, and therefore hundreds of worlds. They all need to be taken care of. That wall commemorates some of the bravest explorers the Strangeworlds Society has ever had. They discovered worlds, had adventures.…”

  “Had adventures?” Flick repeated, before she could stop herself.

  Jonathan nodded. “A lot of adventures.”

  Flick sipped her tea. Adventures… She thought of the map on her bedroom wall, with one single country ticked off, and a hot feeling of want made her grip the china cup tight in her hands.

  Jonathan flicked a speck of something off the arm of the chair. “I can’t tell what you’re thinking. Are you planning to leave and never come back?”

  Flick put her cup down. “I don’t know.”

  Jonathan’s face fell slightly.

  “Look, this is all bonkers,” Flick said. “And if it’s real, then it changes everything, doesn’t it?”

  Jonathan didn’t say anything.

  Flick thought for a moment. “You said not everyone sees glitter through those magnifying glasses, right?”

  “Correct.”

  “But I can.” Flick looked at her hands, remembering the delight of weaving them through the white-gold sparkles in the air. “What does that mean?”

  Jonathan crossed his legs. “It means you’re special, Felicity. Magically gifted, like me. Like everyone in those pictures. You’re one of us. You’re part of the Strangeworlds Society. Or you could be,” he added. “If you wanted to.”

  Flick swallowed. She felt as if she was starting to drown in information. “Do I have to? I mean, what would happen if I walked out and left, like you said?”

  Jonathan’s face twitched. “I’d be disappointed. It’s been a long, long time since anyone new came into the travel agency and saw magic. I was beginning to think I was the last.”

  Flick bit her lip to hide a smile. She was special. The feeling made her chest fizz. She was bursting to know everything—what powers she had, how the suitcases worked. But it was as though the questions in her head were butterflies battering themselves at a window, unable to find the way out. “This is so weird,” she said instead.

  Jonathan raised an eyebrow. “And what’s wrong with weird, Felicity? What would you rather have? An average life? What’s that, exactly? Washing dishes? Going shopping? Watching television? Going to a job you hate and falling asleep on the sofa at the end of the day, never doing half the things you dream about?”

  Flick could feel a blush creeping over her cheeks. “No,” she said quietly. “No, I know what that’s like, already.”

  Jonathan gave her a look she couldn’t quite read. “Wait one moment, please.” He got up and went over to the bookcase behind the desk, selecting a very worn-looking book with a soft leather cover and bringing it back over. “Here. I would like you to borrow this. Forgive the condition; it’s quite old.”

  “What’s this?” Flick opened it. A striking title page greeted her, printed in several different fonts. “A Study of Particulars in Regard to the Strangeworlds Society.”

  “Exactly.” Jonathan smiled.

  “What’s A Study of Particulars?” Flick turned a few more pages. The book was filled with pages of printed text and maps and charts, and occasionally there was tight copperplate handwriting in the margins.

  “It’s a guide to the Strangeworlds Society, to the travel agency, to suitcases, and magic. It was quite thin, to begin with.” He leaned over and carefully turned the pages back to the start. “Look.” Flick saw that there was a section of pages that looked quite different—a slim volume with age-softened pages stuck, with thick yellow glue, into the newer leather cover. “The society members expanded on it as they went along, having new pages printed, updating it as their numbers and responsibilities grew. You’ll need to read it, to become a Strangeworlds Society member.”

  Flick turned the pages and saw a couple of penciled maps, as well as properly printed names and lists and charts of all kinds alongside the professionally printed pages. Jonathan was beaming at her as though he’d given her a wonderful present, but Flick felt rather unsure about it. The book somehow felt very heavy in her hands, as though it was weighted down with expectation. “I don’t know if I should take this,” she said.

  Jonathan’s delight blinked into surprise. “Why ever not? Don’t you want to know more about what makes you special?”

  “I’m not sure I am, though.” She held the book out. “I’m not… magical.”

  Jonathan ignored the offered book. “You saw the magic with your own eyes.”

  “I only saw some special glass,” Flick said, knowing even as she said it that that wasn’t true.

  Jonathan raked a hand through his hair. “You saw magic through those magnifying lenses, Felicity. You know you did. Look. I understand this must be overwhelming, but I don’t think either of us wants you to walk out of that door and never return.”

  They stared at one another.

  Jonathan sighed. “Please, just read it.” He pushed the book back toward her. “You don’t have to agree to join the Society right away. You can even come back and ask more questions, if you’re not sure.”

  “But I don’t know if I want—”

  “Something made you come into the travel agency,” he interrupted. “I’m too much of a cynic to believe in fate. But you took that shard of glass from the ashes. You saw magic through it. Those are the facts, Felicity. This… this is a place you belong.”

  Flick looked at the book in her hands. She didn’t know what to do. And the fact that she didn’t know made her feel strange. This wasn’t a problem to be solved; this was choosing to be part of something she didn’t really understand.

  “I can show you what’s inside the suitcases, Felicity,” Jonathan said softly. “You could travel to places you could never have imagined, see worlds on the edge of the multiverse. You could watch blue suns rise over mountains of red glass, see flowers the size of houses, hear the crunch of the ground as dragons hatch from hidden caverns, and feel the heat in the emptiness of space as a ship cruises close to a dying star. You could see it all, Felicity. And more.” He spread his hands. “You’ve got something, Felicity. I am pleased to have met you, even if this is to be but a very short friendship.”

  Flick tried to think. None of this made sense. But there was no denying she’d seen a rabbit pulled out of a hat in the middle of a dusty old travel agency, and something magical afloat on the air. And then there were all these suitcases.…

  She gripped the book tight.

  This was madness. The farthest her family had been on holiday was to the seaside, a couple of hours away. She wanted to travel yes, but she’d thought she’d start by going to France or maybe Spain. The idea of traveling to whole other worlds was ridiculous. And besides, she didn’t have the time. She had to help her parents organize the house and take care of Freddy and prepare for school in the autumn— No.

  Flick shook her head. That was her parents talking. That’s what they expected her to do. She looked again at the leather-bound book in her hands. She ran a thumb over the cover, feeling the softness of the grain. The pages creaked as she moved it in her hands.

  What would it be like, she wondered, to watch a blue sun rise over a mountain of red glass? A spark of something like excitement rose in her belly, as if the glittering magic in the air was inside her.

  “So… what happens if I do come back?”

  “I’ll show you what magic can really do,” Jonathan said.

  Flick stood, holding the book in both hands. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Do,” Jonathan said.

  Flick gave him a nod. She went out without looking back, flinching slightly at the heavy clunk of the door as it closed behind her.

  She stepped onto the pavement and blinked as the noise of the road, the
thunderous chatter of people, and the smells of busyness all smashed into her like a wave knocking against a ship.

  She stared back at the travel agency with the wall of cases just visible inside and then at the book she held in her hands.

  It felt as though she had already stepped into a different world.

  Being a Treatise of Rules and Regulations

  laid down by Founder Members Miss Elara Mercator

  & Mister Henry L’Estrange of Little Wyverns,

  in the County of Nottinghamshire

  A host of important facts to

  consider and standards to maintain

  when embarking on your voyage

  as a member of

  the Strangeworlds Society

  WELCOME, TRAVELER, FOR YOU ARE AMONG FRIENDS.

  The Strangeworlds Society is an organization established and maintained for the purposes of exploring and preserving new worlds. The responsibility of our cause and purpose is demonstrated by the oath below, which must be taken by each new member of the Society, once they have proven their Sight:

  I, [applicant’s full name], do hereby swear that I will well and truly serve the Strangeworlds Society. I will uphold its secrets and do right by all manner of worlds with regard to the laws and practices of their realm and ours. I will chart, respect, and protect new worlds without fear, favor, ill will, or affection.

  To be a Custodian of new worlds is a duty and a privilege given to few. It is a chance offered only to those who have proved they possess the ability to see magic, via the lenses in the possession of existing members. Travelers to new worlds have an obligation to record facts and evidences about the world, for future consumption by other Society members.

  Flick turned the page.

  Established in 1873 by Miss Elara Mercator and Mister Henry L’Estrange, the Strangeworlds Society has been based at the travel agency of the same name, in Little Wyverns, since 1895. The travel agency has existed as both a gathering place and a home for the suitcases that enable other-worldly travel (see page 10).