CONTENTS

DAY 5 : THE APPLE

Contents.....................................................................1
5.1..................................................................................................................................4

5.2..................................................................................................................................6

5.3................................................................................................................................10

5.4................................................................................................................................14

5.5................................................................................................................................18

5.6................................................................................................................................21

5.7................................................................................................................................24

By:

The Righteous Notes

http://inkofours.blogspot.com/
A Poison Tree
I was angry with my friend;
I told my wrath, my wrath
did end.
I was angry with my foe;
I told it not, my wrath did
grow.

And I watered it in fears,

Night and morning with my
tears;
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful
wiles.

And it grew both day and

night
Till it bore an apple bright –
And my foe beheld it shine.
And he knew that it was
mine,

And into my garden stole,

When the night had veiled
the pole.
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretched
beneath the tree.
 Songs of Experience
William Blake (1757 – 1827)
 DAY 5 : THE APPLE
5.1

A circle. A huge circle.

That’s the first thing I saw.

There were some shapes inside the circle, but I couldn’t figure out what. Everything was
blurry. I rubbed my eyes into focus and squinted again. Were those symbols?

Where was I?

On any other day, waking up in a foreign place would had sent me into a frenzy. I had
always been afraid of being kidnapped, all thanks to my dad. He used to tell me about
the cases he handled — did I tell you he was a detective? — and how most kidnaps had
ended with decomposed mutilated body parts strewn all over dumpster.

Oddly, not today. I couldn’t remember how I got here or anything before that. But
somehow I felt calm and at peace.

I stretched long until I heard the joints cracked and laid back down with a sigh of
pleasure. I was happy enough to just lay there and listen to the distant chirping sound of
birds. What a beautiful choir.

My mind was about to sail off again when I suddenly heard, “Aren’t you gonna wake up
soon?”

I jolted awake immediately and turned around wildly to look for the source. Eddie was
sitting on an armchair at the corner of the room, holding a book on her lap. Next to her
was a deep asleep Gabe, who was lying flat on his back on the wooden floor, with his
mouth slightly agape.

We stared at each other in silence. Slowly, Eddie’s face twisted into a smile.

“I take it you don’t remember what happened at all?”

I shook my head.

“Well, it’s pretty understandable.” She closed the book and nudged Gabe’s head lightly
with it. “Gabe. Wake up.”

His eyes fluttered open and he said with a confused look, “Wha’—”

“Derek is awake,” Eddie said.

That sentence sobered him up instantly. He sat straight up and looked at me square in
the face.

I blinked.

Gabe stood and walked towards me. He sat on the edge of the bed. “How do you feel,
dude?”

Before I managed an answer, he continued, but to Eddie, “He seemed okay now. In a
daze, but normal.”
“Told ya not to give him that much,” Eddie replied.

I didn’t appreciate being excluded from the conversation, let alone treated like some
guinea pig on experiment. “What normal? What did you give me? And where are we?”

Gabe looked at me, almost apologetically. “My room. Gave you tranquilizer, dude. Sorry,
got no choice.”

“Tranquilizer? For me? Why? You are nuts!” I spluttered.

Eddie sighed mockingly. “Instead of making groundless accusations, why not try jog your
memory.”

This is annoying.

Gabe chimed in. “Yeah, what do you remember?”

I closed my eyes and tried to recall something – anything – before this. Flashes of light.
Hurried steps. Scream. Chants. Shards of glass. Blood. Kitchen. Right, kitchen. Jake’s
kitchen.

“I – I was in Jake’s kitchen.”

Gabe nodded encouragingly. “Then?”

“Then.. I blacked out, you came. Told me something.” I thought hard. “Ah, that the
rebirth process is complete.”

He nodded again.

“And then I — ” I paused. The flashbacks of what happened in the kitchen flooded my
mind. I stared at Gabe in horror. Oh my God. What the hell happened to me?

He looked back at me intently and added, “You were possessed.”

A thousand thoughts swam in. Possessed? What was that supposed to mean? Would I go
berserk and start killing people, turning into a mass murderer? Was I really that weak,
that I couldn’t even keep my own sanity without a spirit? Could Eddie be right, the faster
Jake died, the better it was for everybody?

I ran my fingers through my hair. No, I must not think that way. No matter what would
happen, Jake must not die; and I wouldn’t let him too.

“Don’t worry. You were not fully possessed. Not yet.” Gabe said. He must had read my
thoughts. “But you were spiralling out of control. And you were, er — harming me, so Rua
stopped you.”

My hand subconsciously reached the nape of my neck. It took the worst hit. “You mean
he was the one who slammed me to the sink?”

He nodded.

Eddie cut in. “Be grateful he did. God knows what’s gonna happen if he didn’t.”

I glared at her. I couldn’t believe I actually went gaga over her just days before. Had she
changed, or had I?
“Well,” I said sarcastically, “I suppose I should buy him dinner then. And perhaps, a kiss,
too.”

She chuckled. “Aren’t you a sensitive boy.”

I wanted to come up with a retort, but I couldn’t find any. That sucked.

I looked away and observed the room. It was roughly four-by-four, with walls painted in
soft pastel. There weren’t much inside; only a study table, a swivel chair, an antique
bookshelf, an armchair and a single bed which I was lying on. But the degree of
messiness was just right. Neither too tidy, nor too messy. All in all, the room was
pleasant-looking and cozy, despite of the haunted-house like outer appearance.

I glanced at my watch and caught the ceiling’s reflection on the glass. “What about that
circle there?” I asked, jerking my thumb upwards.

“That was to keep you from getting possessed again. Just a temporary thing, though.”
Gabe answered.

I frowned. “I thought once you’re possessed, you’re gone case?”

Gabe shrugged. “That’s what I thought. After you passed out, I didn’t know what to do. I
mean, that was the first time I ever encountered a possessed shaman.

“I made sure nobody was around and brought you here. Then a thought struck me. Why
don’t I ask for Eddie’s help? After all, she knows how to manage without a spirit. I called
her and she came over at once.

“About half an hour later, you stirred. I was worried that you might lose control again, so
I gave you a jab.” He looked at me shame-facedly. “A teeny-weeny bit too much.”

“Yeah, right. Teeny-weeny bit. He slept like a log for 20 hours straight.” Eddie snorted.

Gabe cleared his throat. “Anyway, here’s the exciting part. I was totally caught by
surprise when she told me.” He smirked at Eddie. “Why don’t you tell him yourself?”

Eddie took over. “Gabe had told you that I let go of Tanya, right? I thought by doing so,
the magic would leave too. But then I realised it didn’t work that way.”

“Wait. I don’t understand. How could you give up your magic? Isn’t it one lifetime thing?”
I asked.

She raised her eyebrow. “Well, yes, it is. But not to everyone.”

I stared at her in silence.

“I think I had better start from the beginning.”

***

5.2

Our small talk was interrupted by a knock at the front door. Gabe went downstairs. After
a while, Kate appeared at the door with a freshly-baked pie on hand.

“Mixed berries pie made with love from Gran,” she said with her trademark heart-melting
smile.
I was surprised. Why was she here?

Eddie caught the surprised look on my face and explained, “I told her about you.”

Great, now everybody knows about me turning into a freaking possessed walking time-
bomb.

Kate nodded. “Yeah. She came home yesterday looking all flustered and rummaged our
room.” I looked at her questioningly. “The two of us bunk in together, Sussie with Gran,”
she continued, “and I asked what she were looking for.”

“Turned out it was for the sigil,” she said, pointing at the ceiling. “She kinda forgot the
chants, so she looked for her note.”

Eddie shrugged. “I haven’t used it for years.”

“You drew this? How did you find out about this thing? And how does it keep me from
getting possessed again?” I asked.

“Whoa, whoa. One question at a time, dude,” she said. “Yes, I drew this. How did I find
out, Kate told me. It keeps you calm, control your desires. Keeps the magic from taking
over your subconscious mind. But it only works for minor outbursts.”

“Kate told you? Don’t tell me she is a shaman, too.”

Kate sat down at the foot-end of the bed. “No,” she replied, “but I knew a lot about
shamans.”

Eddie nodded at me. “That’s right. She knew an awful lot about shamans.”

I thought of Jake. “From books written by professors?” I said wryly.

“No,” Kate replied. Her eyes twinkled. “Better than that.”

Gabe came into the room with several plates and forks. “Don’t keep him guessing, Kate.
Just drop the bomb.”

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, okay. It’s Dean.”

“Dean?”

“Uh-huh,” Kate said. “He was obsessed in this sort of things, you know. Influenced by his
neighbour who knew practically everything on shamanry. Though the old guy never
admitted it, Dean believed he was a shaman.

“Anyway, I knew Dean since we were kids. Then Eddie popped up and shocked us all with
her magic and stuffs.” She paused for a while. “In the end, I decided to ask for Dean’s
help. His neighbour told him about this sigil.”

“Every human being has greed, however little, running in his blood. Some lusts for
money, some craves for power. But problem is, power tends to corrupt. Like how some
people, blinded by their greed of money, rob and kill; the magic, if left uncontrolled,
exploits your subconscious evil desires,” she used her fingers to indicate quotation marks
in the air, “and draws you over to the wrong side.”

“Not only that, you will lose yourself, your sanity. And your compassion, too. No love, no
feeling. It’s all about you, you and you.” Eddie chipped in.
Gabe gave each of us a slice of pie. “Yeap. And it’s even harder to control yourself when
you ain’t a shaman descendant. That’s why you need a spirit.”

I tried to discern all this info. “But you told me Eddie could survive without spirit.”

“Oh yeah. Right. Where were we?”

I thought hard. “Let me think.. She was telling me about the three types of shaman: pure
shaman, non-shaman and half-shaman. Pure shamans’ spirits are different. They were
basically assigned to each pure shaman since the ancient times. They only disperse if
there is no more pure blood descendant from the guarded family to watch over.

“As for half-shamans, they are not born with magic. The only way they could acquire
magic was through the magical objects, in which spells were casted so that only people
with shaman blood could activate it. You stopped here,” I said to Eddie.

Eddie nodded and continued. “Acquiring the magic requires a sacrifice, and this applies
to both half-shaman and non-shaman. We need spirits, too. However, here’s the crux: for
half-shamans, once it’s on, it’s on. They sort of turn into pure shamans, albeit with
weaker magic. Once the magic is activated, it will stick forever. With or without spirit.
That’s what differentiate shaman’s descendants with non-shamans.”

I had wanted to ask if she was a half-shaman since she couldn’t give up her magic, but
decided against it. Kate was around. Had she discovered that Eddie wasn’t her biological
sister?

Instead I asked, “So you were saying that shaman’s descendants can never give up their
magic, unless they die?”

“Yes.”

“What about non-shamans?”

She hesitated before finally answering. “Non-shamans can do so, but it’s not
recommended.”

“Why?”

“Because your life span will be halved,” she said quietly.

I recalled the conversation that I had with Jake. Did that mean if I broke the object, the
magic will be gone? Maybe Jake wouldn’t had to die then!

Gabe seemed to read my mind. Metaphorically speaking, since I wasn’t looking at him.
He said, “It will not work. Even though your magic or spirit is gone, the sacrifice still goes
on. It is an essential part of the magical transfer procedure.”

I kept quiet and poked randomly at my slice of pie.

“Don’t look so glum, dude. She said that no matter one shares shaman’s bloodline or not,
he can still survive without spirit. Of course, at the risk of being possessed.” He added,
“All we’ve gotta do is to figure out how to stop the sacrifice.”

He tried to sound cheerful and optimistic, but sorry, he failed miserably.

I snorted. As if that’s an easy task. “I can’t think of any other way, except for killing
whoever behind this whole magic thing.”

There was an awkward silence.

Kate broke the ice first. “Have you discovered what magic you inherit from the object?
Cos Eddie can fly! Maybe you can do so, too.”

I pondered for a while. “I have no idea. How do I figure it out?”

Eddie answered, “Mine happened out of the blue. The first time I flew, it was when I fell
down from a tree. Thought I would die, but I just sorta floated mid-air.”

“Can you heal yourself, too?”

She shook her head. “I wish. But no, there’s nothing much I could do. I did inherit some
weird habits, though, like spitting randomly, nose-picking all the time.. Completely tacky.
Thank goodness I managed to get rid of it.”

I chuckled. “I hope I won’t be like that. Nothing out of ordinary happens yet.”

“Perhaps some memories? Flashback of images that you had never seen before?” Kate
suggested.

“No, nothing. Maybe I did, I don’t know. Too many things happened recently.”

Another awkward silence. I took a bite of the pie. It tasted scrumptious, but I had no
appetite at all. I set the fork down and sighed silently.

Eddie put her hand on mine. “Don’t worry too much. We will find a way out.”

I smiled at her ruefully.

“I saw Jake yesterday. He was still unable to talk, but he looked good. Recovering fast.”

“You saw him? How? I thought visitors weren’t allowed!” I said, disbelievingly.

She winked at me conspiratorially. “With the help of a nurse,” she said, dropping into a
whisper, “Gabe have told you what I’m capable of, no?”

Kate eyed us suspiciously. “What are you two whispering about?”

“Nothing! We should bring this pie to Jake when he gets better. Sure he will love it. And
ask Sussie along, too.” Eddie beamed.

Kate casted her a doubtful glance and shrugged. “Yeah. I wonder which one he likes
better,” she added with a smirk.

All of us cackled, including Gabe who was standing next to the window.

I made fun of him. “You guys sure know how to convey your love messages to your
audience clearly, man.”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever, dude,” he said, continued munching his second slice of
pie. “Hey. Is Jake expecting any guest?”

“I don’t think so. His mum, perhaps. Why?”

“Cos somebody is knocking on his door now,” he jerked his head towards the window.

I got off the bed and looked through the window. Someone was indeed standing on the
front porch. I squinted. I knew that car. It’s Dad’s pickup truck.

What brought him here?

***

5.3

My maternal grandma had passed away that dawn. Not that it came without warning.
She had been battling lung cancer for the last few years of her life. Her condition
deteriorated further after my mum’s death. As the saying goes, it never rains but it
pours. How true. Despite of all the chemo and other treatments that she suffered
through, it just kept coming back; each time with an even more vicious vengeance.

But still, I was totally taken aback by her demise. When Chloe broke the news to me, with
her eyes slightly swollen, my heart stopped beating for a second. Everybody tried
frantically to find me last night, but my phone battery was flat. Neither could they reach
me at my house phone. I felt a pang of regret for not being by her side during her final
moments.

Gamma – that’s how we had always called her – was the best grandma that one could
possibly have. She loved all of us dearly, including Feli and Chloe. Even after my parents
divorced, she’d still come and visit us. Dad was like her son already, she said, didn’t
matter whether he and her daughter were still together. And to give my stepmum her
due credit, she welcomed my grandma with open arms, too.

As I sat next to Chloe, who was driving the pickup, I reminisced all those wonderful
memories. Gamma, with that tender expression of hers and her beautiful silvery white
hair that was always tied up in a bun. She was not only a lovely super-grandma, but also
a wonder-mum. My granddad had passed away since my mum was a kid, but she never
thought of remarrying. She devoted all her time to take care of her and Uncle Greg.

Amidst of everything, there was one question that kept nagging at the back of my head:
Why now?

Gamma wanted to be buried in SF. After all, that’s where she had came from. I wanted to
stay back until the burial; to mourn, to be with Gamma, to help with the processions and
most of all, to be with my family. They were devastated, especially Uncle Greg. He never
got married and stayed in a tiny two bedroom house at Sacramento with Gamma. Now
he was left all alone. But I gotta save Jake, too.

I was torn. Jake was my best buddy, my brother; on the other hand, my family was
equally dear to my heart. My dad seemed to understand what’s going on in my mind. He
took me to one corner and in spite of his grief, he put up his usual stern front, said, “I
know you’re troubled, son. And I can see that you’re not ready to tell me yet. Just do
what you should do. Don’t worry about us. Everything will be fine.”

Dad wasn’t one to wear his heart on his sleeve. He had this man ego thing and believed
that guys should not cry or show any emotional weaknesses; but in that split second, I
thought I saw love and concern in his eyes.
The others were very understanding as well. They didn’t probe into details; they just
assured me that everything would be fine, they could manage, no worries.

Which was why I was here, three and a half hours later, standing on the BART platform
waiting for the next train to bring me back to Berkeley. I would come back again the day
after tomorrow for the burial.

The question was still there. I could not help but wondered if I caused this mess. Had
Gamma died in Jake’s place, or was it a pure coincidence?

It was hot and humid that day. Beads of sweat kept streaming down my face and neck,
and my back was completely drenched.

I walked to the far end of the platform. There were only three people: an attractive
looking lady in pale yellow sundress, surrounded with shopping bags; an old guy who was
engrossed in his newspaper; a teenage boy clad in black hoodie, whose head was
bobbing to the loud music from his headphone.

I shook my head. Kids nowadays were as good as dead without iPod, iPhone or the like,
for more than an hour. And they insisted to share their music with the entire world. If this
dude here continued to listen at this volume, he would get tinnitus before he reached 40.

I stood next to the lady. It was quieter there. All I heard was the rustling sound of paper
being flipped and the faint background music. Good. I needed some peace to sort out my
thoughts.

Before I left, I talked to Uncle Greg. Dad thought it would be better if he stayed over at
our place, at least until the funeral was over. He was sitting on the window sill, gazing at
the clear blue sky. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked pale. Clearly he was still
shaken by Gamma’s death.

I joined him. Both of us just sat there in silence, immersed in our own world. Suddenly he
spoke in a low voice, his eyes still affixed at the sky, “If only Dad was still here. All of
these wouldn’t had happened.”

My grandpa had died in some freak accident when he was only thirty-four years old,
leaving Gamma and three kids behind.

He continued, “I wish I could change the past. Dad and Stef’s death dealt a great blow to
her, you know.”

Stef was my auntie. Stefanie Anderson. She was my mum’s twin sister. They were
inseparable and indistinguishable, too; they were identical both appearance and
personality-wise. All except for one thing. Aunt Stef was born with leukaemia. She went
for bone marrow transplant when she was ten. Complications arose and she passed away
few months later.

Uncle Greg paused and said softly, “But it was Sara’s death that totally broke her.”

My mum.

He turned to me and his eyes lingered on my face for a while. I looked away.

“Do you still hate her?”

I didn’t have the answer for that.

“Sara loved you a lot. You and Sean. You boys were everything to her. She would do
anything to protect you, give you just another second to live, even though that meant
she had to give up her life.”

My head dropped even lower.

“Sean’s death was an accident, Derek. She had been living in guilt and remorse for
years. Won’t you forgive her, after all that she had done for you?”

What had she done for us? She had changed; she didn’t love us anymore! I wanted to
shout back at him. But I held my tongue. I could feel my cheeks flushing with anger.
Control yourself, Derek, I told myself.

He sensed it and squeezed my arm slightly. “Sara never wanted to abandon you. She
was just.. frustrated. Didn’t know what to do. But believe me; all that she had done, it
was for your own good.”

I reluctantly looked into his eyes and gave a slight nod. I wanted to hear no more. Things
were bad enough at the moment without having to dig up the past.

A loud thud startled me.

I jerked my head to look for the source. A kid started to wail. He had dropped his robot
toy and it broke. His mum tried to soothe him down, while his dad was busy apologizing
and picking up the pieces at the same time.

People gawked at them. Some were just being curious, some pitied the boy. Mostly felt
annoyed by his crying, which had escalated to high-pitched scream when he saw the
smashed robot face.

The lady next to me huffed in annoyance and jabbed into her cell phone screen furiously.
No doubt updating her Twitter, Facebook or whatever status.

I glanced around me. The hoodie guy was still bobbing his head to the music streaming
through his headphone. It sounded like Linkin Park.

Several feet away from him, the old man lowered down his newspaper and was glowering
at the family of three. He clicked his tongue impatiently.

I could hear the train coming from afar. A crowd started to form around the black rubber
tiles.

The kid’s scream was drowned by the sudden noise coming from rushed footsteps and
people talking. More people rushing onto the platform.

The train pulled into the station and the doors slid open. People were jostling to board
the train. At the same time, the passengers inside tried to scuffle their way out against
them.

A fight broke out in the middle of the platform. Two station agents rushed to pull them
apart. A bunch of schoolgirls squealed in fright and avoided them as far as possible.

When I turned to my side, the lady and her shopping bags were already gone. So were
the old man and hoodie guy. That’s fast, I thought.
I was about to board the train, but I couldn’t move an inch. My feet remained transfixed
to the platform.

I heard running footsteps and the chattering sounds coming from behind. I saw the
reflection of a group of students on the train window. They were reaching soon, but there
were no sign of them slowing down.

My pulse quickened. Didn’t they see me? As I focused on the window, I noticed a guy in
the compartment jerked awake from his sleep as the announcement ‘Doors are closing’
was being made. He jumped off his seat and ran towards the door.

The students would crash into me anytime, I realised. They were not going to stop. I
wanted to close my eyes, but I couldn’t. And something really weird happened.

As my eyes followed the movement of the guy, the students whoosh-ed through my
body. Just like running through thin air.

The guy barely made it. The tip of his right shoe missed the narrow gap of closing doors
by, I don’t know, a fraction of one-sixteenth of a second?

He gasped for breath and watched the train leave. After his breathing calmed down, he
took his cell phone out from his pocket and talked into it. All this while, my eyes were
observing his every movement.

I watched his figure shrink smaller as he moved down the escalator. Soon, only the tip of
his head was all I could see..

“Sir? Excuse me, Sir?”

I jumped.

The guy was gone. Suddenly I heard the kid’s sobbing sound again. And the faint rock
music playing from the hoodie guy’s headphone.

In front of me stood a middle-aged man, who was wearing the station agent’s uniform.
He frowned and waved his hand again.

“Sir? Are you alright?”

I looked into his face and stuttered, “Uh.. Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

I took a deep breath and looked around. There was no sign of fight. The lady still stood
next to me, inching away with her bags; the old man peered disapprovingly at me; the
hoodie guy was still bobbing to the music, ignoring the whole world, both hands jammed
into his jeans pocket.

I heard the train arriving. People started to crowd around the black rubber tiles again. I
was expecting to see people running up the escalators and rushed for the train, but no, it
didn’t happen. Only an old woman carrying her bag of groceries popped up.

Perplexed, I asked the station agent who was still staring curiously at me. “Did I miss the
train?”

He raised his eyebrow. “No, Sir, if you have only been here for less than twenty minutes.
There were some disruptions. The last incoming train was about half an hour ago.”
I felt a lump rising. This is impossible.

The train stopped.

“Are you sure you are okay, Sir? Do you need any help?”

Yes, I need help. But not from you.

“Yeah, I am fine.” I added shakily, “I should be fine.”

I gave him a thumb-up and grinned a little too widely. Before he could ask any more
question, I boarded the train and strode to another crowded compartment.

Somehow I felt better blending in with the crowd. Just be an average Joe.

Just be normal.

***

5.4

Jake was staring at the ceiling. He was in the hospital, that much he knew. Pondering
hard over what had happened within these past few days.

School would start in three days time. Summer programme. Jake needed to get 6 credits
from two 3-credit modules; Macroeconomics and Organisational Behaviour; before the
fall semester began. He had got himself the textbooks from the Cal Student Store earlier
even before he started moving to Berkeley. Derek had insisted that they buy the books
early.

"You have no idea how fiercely competitive the students here are, dude. They are totally
worshipping the textbooks it's ridiculous." He had told Jake that. And Jake had told him
that it was not worshipping, that they were doing. They were merely celebrating the
wonder of studying. Jake meant every word he said. But Derek's face turned green and
looked ready to vomit anytime soon.

So Jake got the textbooks and had been reading them since then.

***

After graduation from the high school, Jake took a break for about a year; which
explained his rather late enrolment into the university; helping his father conduct some
research on texts in ancient language. Latin, Greek, Hebrew and old rune and ancient
Spanish. Jake had not known much about languages, but he'd found the idea of words
being able to control and express human's emotion, fascinating.

Jake's father is an honoured scholar in literacy work, respected professor in English

Literature in Cambridge University and Arts Institute of Chicago, an art critics in
countless galleries, and extremely well educated in various languages. German, French,
Spanish, Greek, Portuguese, Hebrew and Russian to name a few.

Strict as the spelling of a word could be, his father had been devoting his life for the sake
of keeping the languages alive. This goal soon turned almost unattainable. The upcoming
generation did not seem to bear the same passion and longing to learn the languages,
left alone loving the secret they possess in between every letter and words and phrase
they gave birth to. So Jake had tried in vain to believe in his father's dream.
"But people do take up languages, father. At school, through tuition, as leisure even
hobbies. They won't fade away. They are learnt, day by day, by us." Jake had reassured
his father, when the man was anxiously writing in his journal that was jacketed in leather
coat and smelled like old dusty book.

Jake's father had stopped writing then, he halted his jotting and set down the glassy-
brown sharp ink-pen ever so slowly, as if he was afraid to part with the writing tool. He
took off his reading glasse and leaned back.

"It's not about learning the language, Jake. It's about understanding it." He'd said with
closed eyes. Jake was raking his brain to seriously get the difference between learning
and understanding.

"The actions are inseperable, father. When you learn, you'll understand." Jake'd said. But
his father'd shaken his head fiercely, almost looked outraged. Jake was taken aback, but
instead of step backwards, he'd leaned forwards. His father was about to set his thinking
right. It was Jake's obligation to receive and believe him.

"No, never. When it comes to language, it's all about feel, grasp, to sense the language
completely. Vulnerably entrust your mind and heart to listen, to capture and ponder
sincerely the meaning, true and absolute meaning of each words and phrase, the
sentence thus formed, and its soul." His father had said, with slightly shaken voice. But
he sounded thunderous and intimidating.

"It must then leave you with the sense of fulfillment, you have hence absorbed the right
message, and deliver the unfalse message as correctly." He exhaled tiredly.

"No one, almost no one, ever wishes to listen or read anymore." The man finished. With
the voice edged with unfaltered conviction so distinct, the room had grown unnaturally
silent when he pursed his lips.

And Jake was left cold and foreign in his own thought of believing in trusting in every
word his father had said, with the knowledge that he was not capable to. He was not
capable to do that, to love the language so deep it might as well be married to himself.

The first translation that Jake fully handled was that in Portugese. His father had
scrutinised his work and pat the sheets of paper lovingly.

"Isn't this absurdly amazing, son? When one does not speak Portugese, he will still be
able to read the text." He remarked.

Jake later thought of how his father had used the word read instead of understand.

"Why the hell living in someone else's dream?" Derek had proclaimed. Jake had shaken
his head in disbelief.

"I'm not living in his dream. I'm merely trying to understand it." Jake lied. He did not try
to understand it, he already did, for god's sake. He was trying to hang onto it, to be on
the same page with it.

"He is my father!" Jake said.

"Yeah, and he is still, someone else. He isn't you." Derek said again, biting into his turkey
pepperoni sandwich nonchalantly.
And then Jake got it, and did not get it at the same time.

It was not that hard to believe in your father's dream, but it's impossible to live it the way
he wanted because you simply were not him.

He still did not get why he still tried to, though.

Derek was chewing the sinful treat when he rolled his eyes. He gulped down the coke
straight from the can and burped softly before asking, "It's fine dude. To trust in your
father." He wiped his mouth with the napkin.

Jake realised now he had actually waited, and wanted, Derek to continue his speech.

"You cannot be like him. To be not yourself, is totally insane." Derek said.

"I'm not trying to be himself, or anyone!" Jake stated firmly. But Derek raised his
eyebrows, and said, "Of course, not. You and I know who you are trying to be."

So Jake continued fiercely, "I'm just doing whatever I can, to help him realise his dream!"

Derek had nodded, almost proudly. He leaned back and grinned, "Then, you are doing
okay, buddy."

Then Jake got it.

He had not tried to be like his father, but to be one his father had wished he was. And he
could not. Nobody could. Nobody could be what they were not. He still tried, because he
thought that was the only way he could help his father achieve his ideology. To path the
way for his father to walk comfortably in planting his seeds of wisdom, of law, to be
trusted by his father, his father, with endless prizes and international acknowledgement,
yet always seemed so deep in sorrow and regret.

He had thought his father deserved that much.

Harvard had sent him a letter of invitation to enrol in their prestigious Degree
programme of History and Literature, in early fall previous year. Jake was excited. His
father had nodded in silence, and that was enough for Jake.

Jake had called Derek and told him about the news. Derek, of course, cheered him high
and happy.

But Jake's mother had come over and hugged him.

"You used to tell me how numbers make more sense than any words can." She
whispered.

"Now when facts and sentences appeal more to you than numeric symbols, I guess you
have grown up." She continued. But somehow the sentence felt incomplete, like her
mother wanted to end it with, like your father.

And Jake had wondered about combining the words and numbers. The rigidity and fixity
of a numeric symbol, had always given Jake a relief assurance that things could appear
to be what they actually were. No tricks, no secrets.

Words though, depending on what life state you were in when you read them, seemed to
portray different meanings each time. And that scared Jake. More than anything else.
Uncertainty was one thing that Jake disliked to deal with. He understood how
unpredictable one thing could be. But not when it was clearly drawn or written in one
particular way, yet it could be interpretted as a whole different meaning. It was this
deliberate uncertainty that always shook Jake's stance of what to believe in, in this life.

But then in some occurrence, numbers did play tricks, too. Profit figure in a financial
report could mean so many things. It shows how well an entity had performed, how much
the entity had expensed to achieve that profit, and when combined with another number,
could show something else.

And Jake had thought that maybe, maybe all numbers actually did not mean a thing if
they weren't explained in words. They had to exist together or none at all.

And then Jake had understood that it was not the words or numbers that mattered in the
end. It was he himself, implementing self-imposed barrier to see the world. Unnamed
rules and boxes to limit the possibilities of one single stroke of movement could produce,
in writing, in drawing, in shaping.

So he had turned down the offer from Harvard. He had wished to learn something else,
something that belonged to him, and somewhere he felt he belonged to. So he went to
Berkeley, where Derek was. Where his mom lived nearby too.

He had thought of how the love and support from his mom and Derek were of utmost
importance in making sure he was understanding things right.

"Understanding things right? Nobody could do it all the times, pal." Derek had said.

"You just need to believe in what you are seeing and where you are, once at a time.
Literally." He had continued. And Jake was relieved beyond belief when he heard it. It had
made so much sense Jake thought of how foolish he'd been all this while. To worry
without beginning nor end.

Derek had taught him the power of 'now'.

Derek had told him how reckless he was. It was after all, Harvard. And Derek had once
declared that Harvard was built to house Jake, and Jake alone.

Derek still cheered him on though, and had urged him to double-major at once. Jake had
wanted to. So he went on with Finance and Accountancy, and Industrial and System
Engineering. The two fields that seemed to promise him excitement and confusion at the
same time. The scholarship had made it clear that Jake were to excel in them.

Jake's father had kept the Harvard letter for him in his personal cabinet, when Jake told
him his decision. Jake had promised his father he'd pursue literacy once after he
graduated. He loved words, too. Everyone knew that. He sincerely understood how
passionate his father was towards literature, and Jake, as himself, had grown to love it as
well.

But of course his father had decided that Jake's love in literature was not as true as his
father's, or as what his father defined 'true' as.

He had locked his cabinet and uttered, "No one, almost no one, ever wishes to read, or
listen anymore. No one."
Jake exited his father's room and thought of what Derek had said, "Man, nobody could
ever, judge, someone else's love towards literature is not as deep as his, or as Dante's
or, or as D. H. Lawrence's, or as shitty shit. You yourself know how much you love it. And
that's enough of a truth."

He had felt better afterwards.

***

Jake noticed now, as he rested numb in the hospital bed, that he missed his mom and
Derek terribly. The thought of what injured him left him horrified and confused. He had
no idea what had exactly happened. And how he wished Derek was here, telling him
everything was okay as shit.

How he wished his mom was here, assuring him that everything would be just fine.

But he knew, that nothing was ever gonna be as fine.

He was thinking of how absurdly this shaman-thing had ruined his and Derek's life within
no time.

Shaman existed, yes. That much, everyone knew and agreed without doubt. But Jake
always thought they existed in some other universe, other realm of existence that was
not connected to his. He hardly thought of them as actually existed, too. He read and got
fascinated by their stories was all.

The knocking on the door shattered Jake's thoughts. He looked to his left side and
watched slowly as the door was sliding open after he softly said, "come in."

***

5.5

The first thing I did after I reached home was to call Gabe. He picked up at the second
ring.

I heard the busy traffic on his side wheezed by. “Dude. Will you be at home later? I need
to talk to you.”

“Naw. I’ve got to work, dude. Money don’t just fall off the sky.” His voice cracked through
the receiver.

Gabe was working as a freelance photographer. I asked him before why he didn’t make
use of his vet licence, but he didn’t answer. Maybe it reminded him of the pain; of his
wife and unborn child.

“Okay, okay. What time will you be done?”

The traffic sound had grown distant. “Five, if they finish on time. I should be at the
hospital by six. What do you want to talk about? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” I said. My heart lurched when I thought of Gamma. But it’s not the time to be
caught up in emotions. Not now. I had to press on. “Listen, dude. Something weird
happened to me just now. It gave me creeps…”
I told him what had happened at the station earlier. By the time I finished, I realised
there was no more traffic noise. His car engine was also turned off.

After a moment of silence, he suggested, “Perhaps it was a fragment of someone else’s

memory?”

“It’s possible,” I said slowly. “But why that particular memory?”

I could picture him sitting inside his car; his face contorted while he thought of a
plausible explanation.

“I think it’s because you went to the same place that the person did before. And it kinda
jog your memory.”

“You mean, like a déjà vu thing?” I asked.

“Well, not really. It’s a déjà vu if you had never experienced it, yet you find it familiar.
But this one can happen anywhere, including places that you’d been to. More like a
double vision. You see the world through two different point of views.”

Sounded more like schizophrenia to me.

I asked him again, just to make sure I didn’t hear wrongly, “You mean I gotta see through
two people’s eyes everywhere I go?”

“Maybe not everywhere. Just places that both of you had been before.”

That’s shitty enough.

He continued, “Usually only certain memories were transferred during the rebirth
process. Significant memories. But that’s just my own conjecture. I haven’t actually met
anyone like you before; all I got was hearsay. Why don’t you ask Eddie?”

“Yeah. I will call her.”

Silence. It was very quiet on his side. Maybe he was inside the car park.

Abruptly, he said, “Gotta go.” And he hung up just like that. Without a bye or see you
around. So much for being courteous.

I dialled Eddie’s number.

“Hello?”

“Hey. Derek here. You’ve got a moment to spare?”

“Sure,” she said. “Give me a sec.”

Hushed voices. Then some giggles. “Okay. What’s up?”

I recounted the station incident to her. And Gabe’s opinion, too.

She listened quietly. “You know what, I think he made sense. Reliving the previous
owner’s memories.”

Seriously? Hello. I’m sure it wasn’t stated in the contract when I signed up for this world.
I pounded my forehead lightly with my palm. “I wonder who’s that guy. Perhaps the
owner was a perverted old lady.”

She chortled. “Or a gay.”

“Ha-ha. Very funny. By the way, I need to ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

“About the sacrifice.. You mentioned that each time Jake survives, there would be
someone to stand in his place, right? But how do you who?”

“Well,” she said slowly, “someone who owes Jake his life. Or indebted to him for life. We
can never know exactly who, but we can make a guess.”

Whoever that person was, it was definitely not Gamma. She had only met Jake a couple
of times; as far as I knew, none involved life-saving situations. “Then why didn’t you try
stopping those people from dying? The kid, Tanya’s friend?” The words slipped out of my
mouth before I realised it.

“Because I didn’t know,” she answered curtly. She sounded cold and rigid.

“Sorry.”

“Never mind.” There was an awkward pause before she added, “Kate told me.”

No doubt the info came from Dean’s neighbour. He sure knew a lot about shamans.
Which was a good thing, cos it helped me a lot. But why did my subconscious raise the
alarm? It had been nagging me to be wary of him.

I brushed it aside. What a silly thought. They were just helping; there’s no reason for me
to feel threatened.

“So if we make the right guess, it can be stopped? No one would have to die, until the
next vision?”

“Maybe.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. It had been two days since the attempted sacrifice.
“How much time do I have?” I asked.

“Dunno,” she replied. “I will ask Kate. Later, though. We have guests.”

Distant sound of laughter erupted through the speaker. I heard Eddie chuckled softly.

“You must be busy now,” I said, “I ain’t gonna take up more of your time. By the way,
Gabe and I will be visiting Jake later, in the evening. Coming?”

“Sure,” she said cheekily, “shall I ask Sussie along, too?”

I grinned. “That would be great. I’ll pick you up at 5 then. See ya later.”

I hung up the phone and went to the kitchen. I still felt full from the spaghetti bolognaise
my stepmum had forced down my throat this morning. What happened recently had
taken away most of my appetite.
I added four spoonfuls of coffee powder into an empty cup. My body was in desperate
need of coffee infusion. I must drink at least one cup per day, and Gabe had deprived me
of my need for the last 20-odd hours.

As I stirred the coffee, I thought of what I had seen. If it was indeed a fragment of
somebody else’s memory, then how was it significant? The guy? He seemed to be just
another normal dude; spiky jet-black hair, stripes T-shirt, jeans and sneakers.

I set down the cup on the coffee table and sank into the sofa next to it. I missed lounging
on the sofa — reading, surfing the web, watching DVD, anything — with relaxing music
on and a cup of piping hot coffee within an arm’s reach. Just whiling the day away. Gosh.
The last time I did that was barely a week ago, but already it felt like ages.

I reluctantly pull myself away from the soft cushions and typed on the laptop keyboard in
front of me. I keyed in shaman on the search dialogue box and pressed Enter. About
11,800,000 results appeared on the top of the list.

Life sucks.

***

5.6

For as long as I could remember, Dad and Mum were always bickering. And most of the
time, it was initiated by Mum.

Dad was a short-fused man, all right. But Mum was much worse. Her temperament was
as unpredictable as the weather. One moment, she was still smiling happily and made
waffles for us; the next thing I knew, she was edgy and snapped at everyone. She would
flare up for the slightest reason - she screamed, threw things and locked herself inside
the room. She never laid a hand on me, though.

I hated it when they fought. No, I was afraid. Afraid of the fact that it happened without
warning; afraid of the unrecognisable monsters they turned into when anger took over.
Each time, I would hid inside my room and bury my head underneath the pillow to drown
out the noise.

Things worsened after Sean was born. Every single second they saw each other was
spent on arguing. Mum moved into her tiny study room and totally immersed herself in
work. By the time Sean learnt how to walk, the arguments had stopped. Dad could stand
no more of her whimsical temperament and avoided her whenever possible. Even if they
talked to each other, it would be an awkward conversation and sounded painfully formal.

In rare good times, Mum would take Sean and I out to play. She even fixed breakfast for
us, despite of her aversion towards cooking. But then, before I could feel the warmth and
love, she would retreat back into her shell and ignored us.

I couldn’t fathom why she acted that way. With the naïve perception of a small kid, I
simply concluded that she disliked us for ruining her career. I told myself that it was not a
big deal. I already had Sean, Dad, Gamma and Uncle Greg. One less source of love
wouldn’t affect my life much.

Sean, on the other hand, loved Mum with every bit of his heart. He loved Dad, but he
loved Mum even more. Whenever she ignored us, Sean would hug his teddy bear tightly
and sit outside her study room, waiting for her to come out.
As he grew older, he began to question if Mum actually loved him. I would always give
him the same reply. “Of course Mum loved you. You’re her everything. And all of us, too,”
I told him reassuringly. Sean believed my every word, but I wasn’t as convinced myself.

My parents’ decision to separate didn’t come as surprise to me. Young as I was, I knew it
would happen sooner or later. I had watched from television how couples ended up with
divorce because there was no more love between them. I was sure that my parents
indeed didn’t love each other anymore. After all, I had never seen Mum actually loving
anything.

I didn’t hate Mum. But there was a hole inside my heart that felt empty from her
abandonment. Sean filled it and my heart became whole again. Until the accident
happened. I hated myself for failing to protect him and most of all, I hated her for taking
him away from me. I refused to talk to her for years afterwards.

Although Dad remarried, my parents remained in touch. Mum went to live with Gamma
and Uncle Greg at Sacramento. I wanted to erase Mum forever from my memory, so I
stopped visiting them. Purely because she was there. Gamma would come over to SF
occasionally instead.

Then Jake taught me about forgiveness. “Everyone made mistake,” he said, “and there is
no mistake that’s so bad it doesn’t deserve to be forgiven.”

I snorted at his idea of forgiving everybody. “I am no Mother Theresa or Dalai Lama,

dude.”

“You don’t have to be one to do so,” he replied earnestly. “Just try see it from another
perspective.”

And I tried. Not just because he told me so, but he had been through it. He knew. Jake
forgave his mum for abandoning him. “If I were her, I might have done the same thing
too. She has a right to pursue her dream and lead her own life, Derek. She has suffered
enough for me.”

I hesitated for days before finally plucking up enough courage to call her. I wasn’t sure if I
was ready to see her again, but it was too late for regret; she was already at the front
door.

Looking through the eyes of a teenager, she no longer seemed to be the hateful woman
that I had always remembered. She was simply a mother who yearned and begged for a
second chance. And I gave her.

I tried my best to understand her, to be in her shoes. I forgave her for taking Sean away
from me.

We began to bond. For the first time in my life, I could feel her love. Bits by bits, I begun
to love her back, too.

But the hole remained. It just refused to mend.

I forgave, but I couldn’t forget.

***

I leaned against the soft cushion with my eyes closed. They felt dry and tired from hours
of staring at the laptop screen.
I had searched for shaman information, hoping to find out more about the rebirth
process. After 17 different keywords and at least 200 pages of search results, I gave up.
Out of 100 websites, only 6 mentioned about it. And from that 6, only 1 had elaborated
on the process in more than one sentence. How pathetic.

This had seriously changed my perception of the professors who researched into
shamanism – or shamanry, as some preferred to call it. Don’t ask me what was the
difference between these two terminology; I didn’t know and I didn’t want to either.

It didn’t mean that I would swallow up everything professors wrote, though. A doctorate
was but a legal form of qualification printed on a piece of higher quality paper that an
individual received after writing a dissertation that passed a series of tests based on the
fallible system another bunch of flawed clever human beings had created in an attempt
to quantify and categorise human’s intelligence level. Simply put, not everyone with a
PhD or Doctor in front of his/her name was as smart as they should be. The joint
hypothesis problem. It could be either the grading system itself was problematic or the
person was truly smart.. Why did I even start talking about this?

Anyway, I had learnt to appreciate professors more, in this case, Dr Inzayne and co. I
wondered how they managed to fish such detailed information.

Besides looking for shaman’s info, I also tried searching for the previous owner of Jake’s
house. No news articles on that house. I called his agent, but all I’ve got was his
voicemail. Nonetheless, I left a message, asking him to contact me ASAP.

I rubbed my temples. The freshness that came after 20 hours’ worth of sleep had
dissipated, replaced with foggy state of mind.

How I wished Jake was here. He would had known what to do. Or at least, how to find
what we needed. Between the two of us, Jake was the smarter one. Not that I wasn’t; he
was just smarter than me. Academically. But when it came to girls, I was the man. No
doubt about it.

I took a long shower and made myself another cup of coffee. It was almost four-thirty
now. I had better get going.

I dropped by Jake’s place to pick up his copy of Inzayne’s book. As I searched for other
books on shamanism in his room, I called Eddie. But it wasn’t her who picked up; it was
Kate.

“Eddie left her phone behind. Is anything the matter?”

I asked her if Eddie mentioned where she was going.

“Nope. She went out shortly after your call.”

Seriously, where had basic courtesy gone to? She should had at least called me before
she left.

I thanked Kate and hung up. I brought the pile of books to my car and saw Gabe
approaching.

I glanced at my watch. It was almost five. I asked, “Why are you here? I thought you are
still working.”

He shrugged. “Ended early. You leaving for hospital now?”

“Yeah,” I replied as I put the books at the backseat. “I was supposed to go with Eddie,
but she was not home.”

“Really? Where did she go?” he asked. Before I managed to answer, the pile tumbled;
soon, the books were scattered all over. Some dropped onto the floor. I groaned. I leaned
into the car and picked them up one by one.

“What’s with all these books?” Gabe asked.

One book slipped underneath the opposite side of the seat. I stretched my hand and tried
to reach for it. “Shamans, what else,” I said. “I need more info.”

He opened the car door on the other side and picked it up easily. “Books can’t provide
you much, dude. You gotta ask experienced actual shaman. Like Old Gary.” Old Gary was
Dean’s suspected-to-be shaman smartass neighbour.

“Yeah, I did think of that. But man, he lives in Texas! I don’t wanna stay too far away
from Jake.” I said, settling into the driver seat.

Gabe hopped into the backseat and pulled out the thickest hardcover book from the
stack. He said, ”Wow. Don’t tell me you’re gonna read this? This is even thicker than the
dictionary, dude.” He flipped the page casually. “Well, I still think it’s better if you drive
to Texas straightaway and ask him all you need to know. At least you know Jake is safe
temporarily.”

I turned the ignition key. The engine roared.

He added in almost a whisper, “If you can find him.”

And that’s the last thing I remembered.

***

5.7

I woke up in total darkness.

I tried to move, but I couldn’t. My hands and feet were bound to a chair.

Where was I?

I struggled to release myself. The bind was very tight; I could feel my skin burning as I
tried to wrench my limbs off it.

A crack of light came in. I heard a click, then the room light was on. It took me a moment
to get my eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness.

I squinted and saw a familiar figure approaching me.

“Kate! Thank God it’s you. Come and help me with this,” I said, wriggling my hands. I
looked at my feet; they were bound to the legs of the chair with duct tape. “Just what the
hell happened? How do I end up here? You have any idea who did this?” I asked through
ragged breath.

But she didn’t respond. Instead, she stopped in front of me and just stood there without
doing anything.
Hell, what’s wrong with her?

“Why are you stopping? Kate?” I asked, glancing up into her face. Only then did I realise
that she was smirking. With a sinister note.

“Well,” she said, “Give me just one reason why I should help you and I might.”

I stared at her disbelievingly. “What? Is this some sort of prank? This is not even funny.”

She leant forward until her nose was just inches away from mine. “Do I look like I am
joking?” she said in serious tone.

She stood up straight and crossed her arms. “Don’t worry. Nobody’s gonna harm you.
Not yet,” she said.

I was at loss for words. Was she really Kate that I knew?

The echo of distant footsteps drifted in through the door. It grew louder and louder; in no
time, it stopped just behind the door and the knob turned.

“Special delivery,” the person said in a singsong manner.

I knew that voice.

He pushed the door open. The face that I had known so well by now appeared.

Gabe.

I was shocked beyond words.

Gabe was carrying something huge. No, someone. A pair of feet dangled off his shoulder.

He strode in and put the limp body down. I gasped. Jake lied motionless on the floor with
his eyes shut.

“Jake! Wake up!” I yelled. He didn’t even flinch. Shit. “What have you done to him? If you
ever, ever hurt him, I swear I —”

Kate cut me off. She held up her palm. “For goodness’ sake. He’s just drugged; not
freaking dead yet!” she added, “For now, anyway.”

She turned to Gabe. With a slight frown, she said, “Everything according to plan? What
took you so long?”

“Yeah. The doc refused to release him just like that. Took us a couple of hours before he
finally convinced him. Should have went ahead with Plan B.”

I didn’t know what they were talking about. What plan did they have? What Plan B?

“Gabe?” I said, “You in this together with her? What’s going on here?” I looked at both of
them. “Just what the fuck do you want from us?”

Gabe sneered. “Gabe? Gabe who?”

I felt my heart hammered against my chest. “What do you mean by Gabe who?”

He said, still sneering, “Well. Gabe who? Gabe who’s a paranoid mute-y, or the talking
Gabe that you trusted so much?”
My jaw dropped. “You are not Gabe?”

Gabe, or whoever that was, threw back his head and laughed. Kate smirked. “Don’t
waste our valuable time explaining to him. Just go straight to the point.”

“All right.” He came closer. “We’re here to offer you a deal.”

I stared at him blankly, unsure of what this was gonna lead to.

He continued, “You find Anapey’s heir for us; we save Jake.”

It took me a moment to digest what he said. “What heir?” I said, barely getting the words
out of my mouth.

He sighed mockingly. “Aren’t you thick, dude. The guy you saw in the station. The one
who could reveal the secret ritual.”

The conversation I had with Jake was replayed at the back of my head. Schrei’s secret
ritual. The speculations that Anapey had left the secret behind before he died.

“I don’t get it. How do you know it’s him? And how am I gonna find him? I had never seen
him before until today and it wasn’t even real!” I said. My heart was beating so fast that I
couldn’t even differentiate each beat.

“Oh, you will find him alright. Just follow the memories,” he said.

This was getting more and more confusing. “What memories?”

He rolled his eyes. “What you saw today was fragment of memories, sweetheart. Haven’t
I told you before? Seriously, did you actually manage to get anything into,” he pointed at
my forehead, “here?”

I still didn’t understand, but I didn’t appreciate being insulted. I glared back at him.

“Watch your words. I can read your mind, remember?” he said.

Even better, I thought. Fuck you.

Gabe looked as if he was about to explode. He clenched his fist so hard that the knuckles
turned white.

Kate saw it, too. She put her hands on his shoulder. He took the hint and stepped aside.

“So, what do you think?” she asked.

I thought hard. Keep calm and seize this chance for more info. “Look. How am I gonna
cut any deal if I don’t know anything?”

“Fair enough.”

“First thing first. Whose memories were you talking about? How did you know it would
lead you to the heir?” I asked.

“I knew it would. The pen’s previous owner knew how to find him. And you, my dear
friend, don’t have to know the details.”

“Fine. Are you a shaman?” I asked.

“That’s totally irrelevant. But I don’t see any harm in telling you anyway. No, I’m not a
shaman.”

Good. So she couldn’t read my mind.

I jerked my head towards Gabe, careful to avoid his gaze. “Who is he? Is he the same
Gabe that I met on the first day Jake moved in?”

“Well, who else could he be? Gabriel the archangel?” she leered.

“So everything that you told me was nothing, but a big fat lie?”

Gabe chipped in. “Of course not, you dolt.”

“Then? You mean all the shaman’s stuffs were true?”

He rolled his eyes. I took that as a yes.

I didn’t get it. Why did he even bother to help me in the first place?

As if she knew what I was thinking, Kate said, “Don’t you think that everything fell a bit
too neatly into place? When you needed help, help came. Gabe suddenly talked. We’ve
been watching you ever since you found the pen, Derek. And voila! You activated the
magic.”

Gabe added, almost gleefully, “Better yet, the memories were re-created as well.”

My head swam. My mind was in a mess; everything was jumbled up. I closed my eyes
and recalled what had happened during the past few days.

Slowly, piece by piece, they began to fit into the puzzle. I found the pen and passed it to
Gabe. The next day, he came over and returned it to me. Then he realised that I had
activated the magic. When Jake got into the hospital, he suddenly talked. He helped me
to get through the awful rebirth process.. Ah. I was such a fool. He gained my trust, and I
confided everything to him. Including the platform incident.

I shook my head and smiled. “You wily foxes. You’ve got me fooled since day one.”

Gabe snickered. “The fact that you’re such an idiot made it so much easier.”

I ignored him. But the puzzle was still incomplete. “Were you the one who left the pen
there? So I could find it?”

“Yeah. It was intended for Jake initially. But turned out it was you that the object chose.”

I was about to ask if they knew how the object chose, when Jake stirred. He covered his
eyes with his palm and groaned.

“Jake! How are you feeling, dude?”

He opened his eyes slowly. Frowning slightly, he said, “Derek? Where am I?” Then he
noticed Gabe and Kate standing next to him. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Mini conference,” Kate replied with a smile.

Jake sat up. “Mini conference? For what?” He rubbed the back of his head. “I thought I
was at your house? Where is this? Where’s Eddie?”
“You were at her place?” I said. “How did you get there?”

“Gabe brought me there. He went to the hospital and healed me. Oh, did he tell you that
he was a shaman, too?” His face brightened up. “And he told me that he could help you!
Isn’t that great?”

He looked at each of us excitedly. “Then I checked out from the hospital. You should
have seen the doctor’s face!” He grinned. “By the way, Gabe had told me about the
rebirth process. He said you lost control and needed help from another powerful shaman
–”

He noticed the duct tape wrapping tightly around my ankles. “Why are you bound to the
chair?” He turned to Gabe. “Gabe? He seems okay now. Surely there’s no need to do this
to him?”

Gabe didn’t reply him. I asked, “What happened afterwards? In her house?”

“And..” Jake frowned. “Gabe had something on, so he left first. When we were about to
leave the house, I felt dizzy all of a sudden. Eddie told me to take some time to
recuperate before joining her.”

“Eddie is in this, too?” I really wondered if I could trust anyone at all. Other than Jake,
obviously.

Kate snorted.

“What are you talking about?” Jake asked. He looked utterly bewildered.

I pressed on. “Is Eddie in this, too?”

“No.”

“Then? Where is she now?”

Jake scratched his head. “We were going to look for Dean’s old neighbour in Texas.
Someone called.. What’s his name again? Gary. Old Gary.”

Gabe chuckled softly. I remembered what he said before I lost consciousness in the car.
If you can find him. What did he mean?

He continued, “Dean came over and picked us up. He said Gary could help you.”

This was getting more and more complicated. “What did you do to Eddie?”

“We’ve got plans for her,” Kate said. “Something exciting.”

My throat felt dry. “Plans? Are you planning to hurt her?”

She didn’t answer.

“How could you bear to hurt your own sister? Are you still human?”

Kate snapped. “Sister? She is no sister of mine. That little bitch. She caused Mum to die
and still had the cheek to come here, pretending as her biological daughter.” Her voice
was trembling from suppressed fury.

“How did you know that?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
“Gabe,” she said curtly.

There was a moment of silence. Jake was the one to break it. “I don’t understand. If this
is some sort of personal vendetta between you and Eddie, then how do all of us get
involved as well?”

She folded her arms. “This is not a personal vendetta, okay? We have been searching for
the heir for years. Years. Just with one freaking pen. Then you appeared and activated
it.” She paused. “As for Eddie.. She is a smart one. She was careful not to trust anyone,
but she had a soft spot for you. The moment I told her you need help from Old Gary, she
volunteered to go to Texas.” She smirked. “What a moron.”

“If only Old Gary exists,” Gabe chipped in. They both laughed.

Jake and I exchanged glances. We were both flabbergasted.

After the laughter fizzled out, Gabe said, “Old Gary is just a fictitious character, dude. We
needed someone outside the circle that appeared to be a know-all shaman. Someone
you wouldn’t suspect of.”

I felt a lump rising in my throat. “If Old Gary doesn’t exist, who is she gonna look for in
Texas?”

“Ah. I doubt she would ever reach Texas,” Kate replied. “In any case, Dean will take care
of that.”

Take care of that. A simple phrase, but it sent a cold tingle down my spine.

“Since both of you aren’t shamans, why do you need to know about the secret ritual? It
would be useless for you anyway. You have no magic!”

“Well, Dean is. With the secret, he would be invincible. Nothing can beat him.” She
added, “Just so you know, he is a Takuman.”

And Eddie was a Schrei.

“Are you a Takuman, too?” Jake asked Gabe. He still looked shell-shocked and pale,
blood draining from his face.

Gabe shrugged. “Neither here nor there.”

What did that even supposed to mean? A free man, or double-faced?

“We have wasted too much time on this mindless conversation.” Kate stepped forward
and looked me in the eyes. “How’s the deal?”

I gulped. I saw Jake mouthing ‘what deal?’.

“This- I still don’t get,” I said, “how are you going to save Jake? I thought it is
unavoidable?”

“It is. But didn’t you already find the solution? Quoting you, ‘killing whoever behind this
magic thing’.”

I heard Jake gasped aloud.

“So you’re gonna fight against the ancient magic troops, or whatever it is? Why did he,” I
jerked my head towards Gabe, “stop me then, when I wanted to do the same?”

Gabe smacked his forehead dramatically. “My goodness! Isn’t it obvious? I had to keep
you alive, you idiot. What’s the point of having you killed before you give us what we
need?”

“Are you planning to overthrow them?” Jake asked. His voice was small, but high-pitched.

Neither answered. Ignoring his question, Kate said, “You don’t have to worry about
anything else. Just find the heir and leave the rest to us.”

She nodded to Gabe who moved closer to me immediately. He took out a penknife from
his pocket and cut the duct tape that bound me.

As he was cutting, Kate continued, “Accept this deal. For your own good. He is practically
living on borrowed time.” She gestured to Jake. “His time is running out fast.”

“What will happen after you get the secret?” I asked.

“You will see.”

I hesitated. Should I? Will I be putting other shamans’ lives at risk?

The duct tape snapped. I was free. I gently massaged my wrists. The bind was too tight,
and it left them red and bruised.

“I don’t think you will want more people to die in his place, too. Dying for nothing.” She
headed towards the door. Gabe followed suit. “I expect good news from you, ASAP.”

“Wait!” Jake suddenly called out. “If you hated Eddie so, why didn’t you kill her years
ago? I’m sure you’ve got plenty of chances to do that.”

Kate slowly turned her head towards him. Then she smiled. For the first time tonight, I
sensed the sincerity of her smile.

“Revenge tastes the sweetest when it’s taken slow.”

I shuddered.

“Good luck, guys,” she added, walking through the door Gabe had opened. “Find your
own way home.”

And the door slammed shut.