Miyu's Wish (14 page)

I waved good-bye and continued to my locker, noticing Thad rummaging through his own things. Seeing me approach, he shut the door and quickly walked away.

Chapter Twenty

D
reading the haunted house that evening, I tried to distract myself by hopping on the Internet and poking around. I browsed for a while, perusing the latest news in fashion and gossip, when I received a new e-mail from Rra. I immediately clicked on it.

Hello Miyu,


       
I hope I didn’t scare you with my last message. Let’s just say I wasn’t “myself” when I wrote it.


       
From what you’ve told me, and assuming it’s legit, you may indeed be experiencing parallel incarnation. This means you’ve been selected to live a “secondary” life. The reasons for this vary; it could be that you have a special destiny to fulfill, or perhaps you were simply the object of pity by a particular being. There’s no hard-and-fast rule.


       
The problem with parallel incarnation is how it’s handled. When the change is performed, should the altered person retain his original form’s memories and personality, or in the spirit of reincarnation, be recreated as a blank slate? Additionally, some transformations are more complex than others: some individuals wishing for a new body are given their desire, but nothing else changes. Their lives are otherwise exactly the same— same house, same family, same existence. You can imagine the problems that individual now faces with his/her personal life.


       
Who transformed you? Unless the being in question reveals herself (himself?), it’s almost impossible to say. But Parvati is a possible candidate, as is Aphrodite, who is especially gifted in female-to-male conversions. The Blessed Virgin Mary of the Catholic tradition is another possibility, for she represents the perfect woman. And lastly, certain powerful sorcerers and witches are also capable of performing the deed, so to speak, but hopefully you’re not involved with any of them.


       
I’m afraid I don’t have much to offer regarding your “powers,” which—assuming you possess any at all— could manifest themselves either in discreet or obvious ways. Nevertheless, at your age they have only just begun to develop. So be careful!


Rraman


       
I reread his letter three times, and then typed a short response.

Dear Rraman,


       
Thank you so much for the wonderful reply! If it’s not too much to ask, I’d like to share a weird experience with you. I recently met my other “self” in a dream of sorts—he was a boy who seemed to be a few years older than me. He warned we would “rejoin,” and said my mission was to fix an “ugly future,” or something like that. He also mentioned temptations and hostile forces.


       
Does any of this make much sense to you?


Thanks for everything,


Miyu =^.^=


I leaned back thoughtfully in my chair as the enormity of it all hit me.
New lives. Alternate identities. Destinies and temptation. Gods and magical beings. Time travel. Divine missions.
I was mired in an avalanche of complexity in which I couldn’t see up or down. It was all like a cruel prank.

We picked Tamara up around seven thirty and headed downtown. The haunted house was being held in an abandoned warehouse, and was reportedly the largest in the region.

“It’s supposed to take over a half hour to walk through,” Tamara said with more glee than I had ever seen in her.

I groaned. “Why am I the one who has to go with you?”

She looked at me as if it were obvious. “Because you’re the squirmiest,” she grinned.

Aunt Mari pulled into the lot, and we hopped out. “Give me a call when you’re ready to come home, but it better be by nine thirty,” she warned. “And Miyu, don’t scream her ear off, OK?”

Tamara laughed as my aunt chuckled at me and then drove off.
Some support she was.
I turned to view the enormous complex ahead; a line of people stretched from the entrance and down the front walkway. Everything outside was constructed to resemble a convincing graveyard, complete with zombies shambling behind a gnarled fence along the walk.

“I don’t think I can do this,” I whined, looking at Tamara stubbornly.

“Oh, come on,” she said, rolling her eyes. But she didn’t seem angry. On the contrary, she was smiling broadly as she grabbed my hand and dragged me to the line. Her hand was surprisingly soft and warm, and I quieted for a time as I observed the crowd. Parents and teenagers were all there, but even kids half my age were bounding around happily, anxious to see some monster action. I chided myself for being so squeamish.

“Remember, they’re just actors in suits,” Tamara explained, swatting at a zombie who had walked up to me.

“I know that,” I said as the creature lumbered off dejectedly. “It’s just that it’s supposed to be really dark in there.”

She smirked. “That’s the fun part.”

We eventually made it inside where the true entrance waited.

“Now stay close to me,” she directed. “I don’t need you getting lost and freaking out.”

I looked at her sourly but then jumped behind her, treating her backside like my personal riot shield as we stepped inside.

As I feared, the darkness was fierce and impenetrable, and I allowed Tamara to grope our way forward. Screams and desperate cries impaled us from all sides, and a constant moaning from our rear made us feel like we were being followed.

“Tamara, where are we going?” I called, clinging to her waist.

A flash of light illuminated our surroundings for just a second.

“This way,” she urged me, but she didn’t sound as confident as before.

She pulled me into a featureless chamber. A faint, purplish light outlined our bodies, but there was nothing else. No people. No monsters. Not even any bloodcurdling sounds. It was as if we had stepped into an abandoned crypt.

“Well, this is weird,” Tamara remarked, looking disappointed. “There must be too many people clogging the way ahead, so they’re holding us back. Still kinda a buzzkill, though.”

“Maybe there’s a secret passage or something we’re meant to find,” I offered, pressing my hands against the black, painted walls. They felt hard and cold to the touch, but nothing budged.

Tamara scoffed at me. “I doubt this place is that sophisticated, Miyu.” But with nothing better to do, she began doing the same thing on the opposite end. “Hey, I think I found something.”

The purplish light flickered off, casting everything into complete darkness once again.

“Tamara, are you OK?” I asked, pressing myself against the wall. A weird creaking sound—like an old door that needed to be oiled—was coming from somewhere, and then I heard someone gasp. “Tamara?!”

Another light flickered on from somewhere, casting the room in a sickly glow. I immediately rushed to where she last stood, but only a wall of moist, slick stone remained. I looked about; the air was thicker now, and I coughed on the yellowish haze as it drifted around me. It tasted old, and blew away under my breaths like tufts of floating cotton.

“This isn’t funny, Tamara!” I shouted. “Where are you?!”

“This isn’t funny, Tamara!” my shrill voice echoed back. “Where are you?!”

I despaired, realizing I was standing within a long, winding tunnel. Drops of cold water fell from an invisible ceiling above, feeling like little icicles against my skin. Shivering, I clutched myself and whimpered softly.
How could she leave me alone like this?

I slowly began walking, following the tunnel in what I assumed was the way forward. The only visible light seemed to emanate from the air itself, which had settled around my waist in a turbid fog. I shuddered, feeling as if I was wading out into a
polluted ocean where countless creatures were waiting to pull me under. The whole place made me feel dirty.

I continued my march, climbing ever so slightly upward until the walls were of brick and mortar and the air clung only to my knees, and then my ankles. The faint glint of torchlight caught my eye up ahead, its warm glow banishing the remaining wisps of trailing fog as I approached. I quickened my pace, hopeful the light signified the way out. Instead, I found myself in front of a large, wooden door—much like the kind one would expect to see in an old, medieval castle. I considered pulling on the large, metal ring that served as its doorknob and heaving it open, but it seemed only prudent to try knocking first. I rapped my hand against the hard, stone-like wood, and wondered if I had even made a sound.

As if in reply, the door swung toward me. An old woman stood inside, holding a tray with a teapot and two cups.

“What a polite little thing you are,” she smiled courteously, studying me attentively. “Most would have just barged in. And for that, perhaps you deserve a spot of tea. Care to join me?”

A bead of sweat rolled down my neck.

The woman sat me down at an old, wooden table and began filling my teacup. I watched as the steam rose into a little spiral
that then spun and danced before me, resembling a miniature tornado. I blew on it, and watched with interest as it fizzled apart and then recombined.

“It’s a concoction of my own design,” the woman explained as she sat down across from me. “I’m still deciding on a name—perhaps Tempest Tea or Tonic Twist? It’s meant to represent the different, winding roads our lives often pursue.”

I put my nose to the cup and smelled.
Apple cinnamon
. “Hmm, how about Cinnamon Spin?” I offered.

The woman looked surprised. “Why, you really are an interesting one, aren’t you?” Her voice was as smooth as cream.

I leaned back in my chair and took a quick glance around. Her abode seemed small and had the rustic air of a log cabin, albeit with stone walls. A large fireplace burned in the back, and I noticed a number of vials and strange, metallic instruments tucked away in a corner. An enormous bear rug rested on the floor, his startled face serving as a dire lesson for someone.

My gaze refocused on her. She seemed younger than I had perceived just a moment ago, with long, curvy hair and a surprisingly pleasant smile. Her eyes were dark blue, her skin fair. A few light wrinkles lined her face, but they suited her somehow, as if they had always been there.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” I said. “But where am I? Is this still part of the act?”

She chuckled. “You know very well it’s not, just like you know that body of yours is not the only one you inhabit.” She watched
me easily as she took a sip of her tea, the twister splitting into two tendrils under her nose. I could only stare back blankly in return.
Who was this woman?

She set the cup down and smiled. “I’ve been known by many names over the ages, revered by some as a saint, others a monster. By some a kindly godmother, by others an evil queen. I’ll let you decide for yourself.”

I looked into my steaming teacup and stifled the sudden urge to shudder.

“There’s no need to fear me,” the woman added calmly, rising to her feet. “If I had intended you harm, you would certainly already know it. And just so we’re clear, you may leave anytime you desire.” As if she had commanded it, the front door flew open, a small sheet of paper fluttering through it.

“That doesn’t really make me feel much better,” I said direly, observing the emptiness that waited outside. “And what about Tamara? Where has she gone?”

“You mean your confused and angry friend?” the woman replied. She turned her back to me as she walked toward the fireplace. “She’s with my partner, Kandora. And you may call me Mabel, by the way.”

I fidgeted in my chair, feeling completely lost in the conversation. “Why have you taken her? And, um, why am I here?”

Mabel pulled a large book from the mantel and began thumbing through its pages. “She would have been an unnecessary
distraction here. But don’t worry yourself; she’s safe and won’t remember any of this. You, on the other hand, are a completely different matter. I haven’t seen someone of your caliber in a long time.”