REND

“It’s in the same envelope as your note,” I said. “Just asking if you put this here or maybe the—”

“I didn’t have an envelope,” Imani replied, brows pressed together as she examined the flyer. “I gave my folded note to the woman at your condo’s front desk. She probably placed it in one to not get lost.”

“Oh, you’re right.” I turned over the envelope and found the condo manager’s logo on the upper right. I must’ve missed it while puzzling over its contents. “Weird that the receptionist included a flyer.”

“What’s that about?” Myra peered over the paper Imani held. “A cruise with a newly remodeled ship from New Los Angeles to Catalina and Ensenada, Mexico. Fancy, eh?”

“I’ve he-heard of this.” Imani paused, closing her eyes. We waited for her to explain. Her lips trembled for a couple of seconds. “Marco… He’s Boojum. Ma-Marco and his girlfriend wanted to get on this cruise. They were looking forward to it.”

“Sounds enticing.” Myra grinned at me. “This Marco guy got the right idea. Maybe he can recommend us an island for Erind to hide in.”

“Boojum is one of her teammates,” I whispered, not so subtly elbowing Myra. “We told you about him.”

Myra hastily bowed to Imani. “Oh, fuck! I’m so sorry!” Myra turned left, glaring at me. “Why didn’t you mention his name when telling me about them?”

“Can I see that?” Deen pulled the flyer from Imani’s hands and folded it partially crosswise to show only the top part. She underlined with her nail the line in a smaller font beneath the name of the cruise and other details.

“Royal Ceressa Cruise Lines,” I read. My eyes flicked to the name of the ship. Cogs in my brain turned.

This wasn’t an obnoxious promotion by the receptionist. This is a message. A message from a particular silver-haired and silver-eyed bitch who had been jostled off my mind by the amount of crap drowning me recently.

“Ceressa?” Myra said. “Am I crazy, or does that sound familiar?”

“Bianca Ceressa,” Deen said. “Their family owns this cruise ship line. Dario told us about this when we planned on getting close to her.” She explained to Imani. “Long story, but the short is that Bianca was trying to become an Adumbrae.”

Myra whistled.  “A freaky coincidence you got an ad for this, Erind.”

“Yes… a coincidence,” I echoed, though I didn’t think so.

In the many times I had passed through the condo’s lobby through the years, no one had ever given me any flyers or ads or whatever. And what would the condo manager have to do with cruise ships? The true coincidence was that Bianca and Imani delivered their messages around the same time. The receptionist placed them in the same envelope to give to me.

I took the flyer back. “The Islas de Sangre finished renovations three years…” I mumbled, my eyes crawling through every inch of the paper.

The ship was to dock at New Los Angeles, the smaller twin city of La Esperanza. A vast gorge separated the two cities—the path of the Adumbrae Titan, one of the most powerful in history, that sunk a chunk of California during the war. Together, La Esperanza and New Los Angeles used to be the old Los Angeles City several decades ago.

I had visited New Los Angeles for my work before law school. It was a far more relaxed place than the cramped concrete jungle of La Esperanza. I say relaxed in terms of buildings and development, but that didn’t mean it had fewer people. It was touristy as hell—not that hell would be a nice tourist spot—with the beaches packed by as many people as the grains of sand there.

An automatic no-no for me. Just the thought of the masses of bodies made me want to lash out.  

But it seemed I had to go to New Lost Angeles and get on board this cruise, another activity I hated for the same reason.

“Islas de Sangre,” Deen said. “Islands of Blood. An odd name for a ship.”

“You speak Spanish?” Myra wondered. “Are there language classes in your fancy prep school or something?”

“I don’t speak Spanish and didn’t go to prep school. Just a normal high school.”

“Normal?” Myra scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

Deen ignored Myra, continuing to explain, “Islas means islands, obviously. And Sangre probably has something to do with blood. Like the drink, Sangria? Islands of Blood—really odd. And creepy too.”

“An odd name…” I nodded, nonchalantly folding the flyer.

Islands of Blood.

Blood was red.

Red Island.

A stretch? Maybe.

If it wasn’t for Bianca offering to help me take down the 2Ms in return for teaching her how to become a true Adumbrae while retaining her human mind. Then it wasn’t so stretchy anymore. I was almost sure Bianca sent me this flyer—not personally; she was too conspicuous to walk around Vegas unnoticed. She was telling me that this cruise ship was connected in some way to Red Island.

What if Red Island wasn’t the actual name of the place of freaky Adumbrae experiments? What if it just came to be known as that because of the ship going to it? I didn’t want to share my theory with the other B’s—what B should Imani be?—because I couldn’t reveal my connection to Bianca.

“Let’s get back to the topic,” I said. “Imani, I know this is a hard time—Imani?”

She stared at me with unblinking eyes. I waited for a couple of seconds. She still hadn’t blinked or said anything or moved whatever. It was like she was frozen in place.

Deen beside her was the same, turned into a wax statue. Myra too.

I clicked my tongue in annoyance. This had happened a couple of times before. She was going to show up soon.

From an overcast day, the clouds parted to reveal not the sun but endless stars in a sea of black. Gossamer ribbons of different colors weaved above, overpowering the smattering distant lights, turning the momentary night bright. It was as if I was inside a kaleidoscope.

Turning around to observe the sky drastically change, I noticed the headless angel statue detaching from its pedestal on the fountain.

It levitated and crumbled like a cookie, the dozens of fragments reforming into a mask.

Her mask. The mask she didn’t want to lend to me.

It was half-white and half-black, a broad smile cut into both sides. Golden rays radiated out of both eyeholes. Ancient cracks—cobwebs of darkness—marred its surface. It gently rotated as it ascended.

The fountain on the ground also broke apart. The debris put itself back together, rearranging into something different—a chair. It was only briefly that the chair, adorned with beautiful, symmetrical carvings, was in one piece. Sharp lines divided it anew as stone aged thousands of years in seconds. However, the parts still held the shape of a chair, individual pieces floating about half an inch from each other.

“Wow, such an extravagant entrance,” I dryly said as the mask descended to the chair.

I blinked.

A woman now sat on the chair, wearing the mask.

SpookyErind.

She wore a fitting black suit and pants threaded with golden lines in geometric designs. Underneath the suit, she had a white dress shirt and a black tie. And on her shoulders settled a snowy white fur coat as if clouds surrounded her. A heavy gauntlet made of interlocking plates of gold wrapped her right hand. The fingers of the imposing metal glove curved into wicked claws.  

What do you think of it? SpookyErind asked. She removed her mask, revealing my own face with a few minor differences.

Her burning ruby eyes were like lasers firing through her ghostly white hair, lazily flowing about her head as if blown by the wind in slow motion. The polished, marble-like skin of her cheeks reflected the array of lights swirling around us on its unearthly complexion.

SpookErind let go of her mask, leaving it hanging in the air, then gestured at our surroundings. Do you like it? Her lips shaped words, but there was no sound. Her voice popped inside my head as if it was my own inner thought.

“Very cinematic,” I truthfully said. “Too bad you don’t have background music that goes with it.”

She held up a claw and tapped her temple. Nice idea, me! I’ll try working on that next time.

I narrowed my eyes. There was something different with SpookyErind’s gauntlet. It had a sprinkling of dents and cracks, with a few notches chipped away. It looked old and weathered, like her mask and chair.

I might not be an expert on otherworldly shit, but I could guess what was happening. I had expected this when we first met, but seeing SpookyErind’s gauntlet in this state really hammered in that there was a countdown for me. Knowing the deadline for an important project was one thing; checking the calendar as days went by was totally different.

“Are you taking over my body?” I bluntly asked.

You mean our body? I’m already in here.

“Oh, come on,” I pointed at her gauntlet. “That thing is slowly bleeding into the real world and—”

How do you know which one’s the real world?

I snorted. “My world, whatever. I don’t care if it’s real or if there are other worlds. Anyway, your gauntlet thingy is changing. I bet that’s forming on my hand in the real—I mean, my world—isn’t it?”

You don’t want it? SpookyErind said, pouting with fake hurt as if I had rejected a heartfelt gift. It looks cool, doesn’t it? And it has many uses like you can scratch your back with it.

“Yeah, it looks awesome. But I don’t want something like that permanently welded to my hand. Super obvious it’s not normal. People will call me out on that.”

They’re just jealous that they don’t have a cool backscratcher. SpookyErind waved her golden gauntlet.

“That’s not it.” It was excruciating trying to get a straight answer out of her. I tried a different question. “What happens if your whole glove materializes on my hand in my world?”

A new backscratcher!

Though SpookyErind was bullshitting me, she indirectly confirmed it’d eventually happen. I followed it up, “Then you’ll take over my body after that?”

She wrote in the air with her finger as if conducting a choir. Sing it with me! Meyoumeyoumeyou!

“Meyoumeyoumeyou,” I joined in with a random melody, my cheeks raising in a half-smile.

Right. There was no point worrying about this. SpookyErind was already in my head. As people with delusional disorders couldn’t recognize their delusions, figuring out if my thoughts were still my own was a wasted effort.

But that didn’t mean I was giving up. Our game was still on.

Isn’t it fun to sing? SpookyErind placed her fingers on her cheeks and pushed up a smile.

I shrugged. “I’m not much of a singer.”

Debatable.

“No, it’s not.”

I’m going to debate it. Meyou are a good singer.

“Even if you give me the ability to sing well, my soft voice’s not cut out for it.” I absentmindedly checked my dysfunctional dream team, still frozen solid. I had thought of punching Myra, wondering if it’d have any effect after SpookyErind left. Probably not.

SpookyErind snickered. I must say, the start of our little get-togethers has improved a lot. You’re no longer leading with dumb questions like if you’re dead.

“Am I dead?” I turned to her with a mischievous wink. There was a level of relaxedness I could reach only when with SpookyErind. Hard to explain. Getting trapped in another dimension with a sinister entity wasn’t a vacation, but I was incredibly at ease.

Hey! I was praising you. SpookyErind playfully tilted her head left. Well, asking if I’m taking over your body is also a dumb question. She snickered, parting her lips as she laughed, revealing cute bunny teeth—that also applied to mine. Narcissist, much? she said.

“I’m a very down-to-earth person, you know?” Before, I’d be wary and irritated if she read my mind, but I got used to it.

No, we’re not. SpookyErind leaned back over the left armrest of her chair, almost spilling out of it as she energetically waved her outstretched arms. We’re in space! Look!

“Very funny,” I said, scrunching my nose. “Anyway, what’s up with the visit? I was in the middle of a small meeting.”

Just checking up on you. SpookyErind righted herself in her seat.

“Did you have to bring them here?” I jabbed my thumb in my dysfunctional team’s way.

They’re not really here, duh. You do know we’re in your head. But I wanted an audience, so…

“So, you brought them along here? Just ideas of them, I guess. Speaking of bringing along, did you send Imani my way?”

No? She raised a brow at me. I can’t affect your world—your ‘real’ world, as you called it—except only through you. It’s just that you’re good at making friends. And I’m proud of you for that.

“What about my Dad? Did you have something to do with that?”

SpookyErind rolled her eyes. Fascinating to see the crimson glow partially dim as she did. Didn’t we just talk about dumb questions? I’ll retract being proud of you if you keep asking them.

“Was that him?” I insisted, figuring I had enough rapport with SpookyErind to pester her a bit. She could confirm by reading my mind that I was just messing with her.

How about you check if you’re that interested instead of asking me? Do you want to know if it was him?

I looked up, taken off-guard by the counter-question. Okay, SpookyErind was reading my mind right there. “Hmmm… not really, I think…” I trailed, unsure of my stance. “It’s just that if that was Dad, then isn’t that too much of a coincidence?”

Dunno. SpookyErind replied. Her face didn’t give away anything. I sense you have other dumb questions lined up. Get it out of your system.

“On the topic of coincidence, I met another Adumbrae who could control herself. Not sure, but I just assumed, from the way she acted, that her human brain was pretty much at the helm. It’s not an actual question.”

What is it, then?

I approached SpookyErind to show confidence. Each step was like wading in pancake syrup, bringing me no closer to her even though she was just right there. I smirked as our eyes met. “I’m just saying I’ll win our game. I will get control of my body.” This was the most direct I’d been with her, and I was steeling myself for her reaction.

SpookyErind grasped the blocky stone armrests of her chair and leaned forward. Her eyes blazed as the world dimmed. Like a brain freeze, I could physically feel her following words in my head, distinctly different from my thoughts. You think you have a chance of winning this?

“Showing your true colors?” I said, trying to keep my head high as intense pressure compressed me from all sides. But I wasn’t scared. I knew she was having fun. Because I was having fun.

Yeah, I’m kind of light purple. SpookyErind swung her legs as she chuckled. Everything returned to normal. Rather, what it was before, which wasn’t normal. And you’re right, dear Erind. It’s fun! Everything that has happened so far has been fun. Meyoumeyoumeyou!

“I’m glad you’re entertained.” 

If we were the same, shouldn’t I get that high of happiness too? Still, a sense of impending excitement was at the back of my mind—anticipation and excitement for what was coming next for me. Perhaps, I could find the thrill I was looking for there.

Tell me about it, said SpookyErind, poking inside my head again. She propped her left elbow on her seat’s armrest and cupped her chin with her palm.

“Life-and-death situations are getting stale,” I said. “They can’t give me the same kick as before. I’m not sure—I suck at psychoanalyzing myself—but I think… it’s because I’m reacting to things. Bullshit comes, and I try to stay above the flood. It might be different if I start shit myself.”

And how do you plan to go about that?

“For starters, going on a cruise ship will be fun.” I made a face. “I hate cruises, but if I could get enough people on board with it, literally and figuratively, I might change my mind. I can probably make it fun.”

SpookyErind raised a brow. Oh? Is that so?

“Maybe I can get Dario and other people from the Professor’s side there. I can also pit Big Marcy against his brother Marc. Not sure if I could get Corebrings there, but a few BID agents might be fine. We’ll have to see what I can wrangle up. I’m going to do some major cleaning operations.”

Such a responsible person you are, she said. You’re making me even prouder!

“The middle of the ocean will be a great place for it. No one can escape.” I smiled at SpookyErind, also feeling proud of myself. “Then it’s a whole new thing once we reach Red Island. I don’t even know what to expect there. For once, I’m excited about a surprise… which is surprising. Meyou are going to have so much fun.”

I bet. SpookyErind left her seat. Her gauntlet disappeared, and she raised her bare right hand.

Without thinking, I touched her hand with my right hand, palm to palm, fingers to fingers. Our hands were the same size. Warm like living human flesh.

SpookyErind curled her fingers in between mine, grasping my hand. I did the same.

Know what’ll make it even more fun?

“What?”

Use the newest mask I lent you.

“At the risk of asking a dumb question, what does it do? I kinda don’t want to use it because—"

“Erind?” Imani said. “What were you saying?”

I blinked a couple of times. The cloudy sky was above. Imani, Deen, and Myra were moving. The headless cherub with the graffitied ass had returned to its place on the reconstructed fountain.

I was back.

Not missing a beat, I continued my reality as if SpookyErind hadn’t interrupted it. “Imani, I know this is a hard time for you, but you have to make a decision.”