Double Life - Book 1 of the Vaiya Series

by Vaiya Books

  About ten minutes later, torment filling Ian’s mind, the pirate returned with a glass flask filled with a bubbling red liquid. By now, Ian’s heart was racing and he thoroughly regretted telling them that he was a Chardin. If he’d simply not spoken, he would’ve merely been a rower. Even if he were treated like a slave, this would be far better than the fate he faced now.

  Watching the captain approach him, Ian saw his eyes gleaming with mockery.

  “Time to prove if your words sink like an anchor or float like a barrel of rum,” said the captain jeeringly, as he took the flask from the pirate’s hand and held it up, examining it. He’d looked at it for only a scant second before he spoke again: “Better hope this doesn’t work like in the legends.”

  Before Ian had time to consider what these legends told, the captain hurled the vial at one of the lead weights attached to the net. Upon impact the vial exploded, a column of fire engulfing the net completely and shrouding Ian’s body in ten feet of reddish flames.

  Yelling in startled terror as the flames swept over his body, Ian suddenly stopped, as he noticed that the flames didn’t hurt him at all, or even burn through the nets, and that he could actually see through them. The sensation he felt at that moment was one of amazement, as if he’d just found out that he had superpowers. Watching the pirates staring at the wall of fire in suspense, he heard the captain shout:

  “What’s happening in there?”

  But before one of the other pirates could reply, Ian felt a volt of electricity instantaneously course through his veins as a blazing light enveloped his vision. Underneath his shoes, he felt the sand become more solid, gradually turning into hard tiles. Soon the brightness faded and he could see clearly again. He was once again in the bathroom at Shadowcrest Manor--all alone as before.

  Leaping off the floor in an excited daze, adrenaline rushing through him, Ian ran towards the sink hurriedly, intent on fixing his hair, cleaning his face, and brushing the sand off his shirt and blue jeans before anyone could see him.

  Heart pounding with frantic anxiety, he quickly stuck his hands next to the faucet, activating it, energy coursing through him like a power plant, and looked into the mirror.

  But what he saw nearly made him fall backwards--a shock of startled terror jolted through his whole body. His knees buckled. His heart fluttered as if it were filled with luna moths. There was no way he was this handsome. Only movie stars looked this good.

  Everything about him had changed: his hair texture had thickened and become much fuller; his slightly crooked nose had completely straightened out; his pimples, two of which had been a constant bother to him this week, had vanished, as had his faint blemishes; his slightly thin eyebrows had thickened and grown darker; his complexion had become much softer and smoother, his slight wrinkles had all vanished; his dark brown eyes had gone from being somewhat sharp to being very attractive; even his teeth had become whiter and straighter. It didn’t take any stretch of his imagination to envision Hazel calling him Prince Charming now, and if she said it this time, she’d be right.

  Hands pulsating and sweaty, eyes twitching with agitation, he racked his brain for answers to this madness. After half a minute of debating pointless theories and speculations, he suddenly remembered the poetic words of the mermaid Taeria and everything clicked. Now he fully understood why she’d said his face looked like a pearl shining in pale moonlight. It made way too much sense.

  Panting, he nervously cupped his hands under the running faucet, before splashing it onto his face, desperately hoping to remove the magic liquid. Not that he hated his new appearance; far from that, he loved it. But having to explain himself to every person who asked was way too much for him to handle, as he couldn’t tell them the ridiculous truth, and coming up with a believable lie would be anything but easy.

  Rigorously scrubbing his face with his hands until it turned red, he peered up into the mirror, gasping at the uselessness of his task. He might as well be trying to build a sandcastle to the moon or trying to dry up the Niagara Falls. Besides the redness, his face hadn’t changed at all, not one bit.

  Drying off his face with some tissue papers, his heart pounding even faster, he quickly surveyed his yellow-collared shirt, blue jeans, and white tennis shoes. He brushed the white glittery sand off the back of his jeans and shirt, gave the mermaid’s necklace a deeper shove, making sure it stayed hidden in his jean’s pocket, and observed his other pocket, noticing that the stone jar of beauty cream given to him by Rai didn’t make his pocket bulge out too much.

  A little bit of sand on him, the hint of a necklace sticking out of his pocket, the jar somehow falling out of his pocket … any one of these occurrences would hang extreme suspicion on him, and if he couldn’t think of any good responses to the questions he’d likely be asked if one of these things were to happen, he might as well say goodbye to his reputation.

  Done examining himself as he’d fixed everything that could be fixed, he sighed in bitter relief; at least everything else about him looked normal. Fortunately, the magical fire didn’t even singe him and there was no smell of smoke anywhere. Having to explain this on top of everything else would simply be a disaster on top of a chaos.

  Finished preparing himself for the dreaded encounter as best as he could, Ian hurried out of the restroom to get back to his friends, his chest heaving within him as he imagined what they’d say to him. It wasn’t fair. Nobody should have to deal with these awkward situations. How could he walk up to his friends and pretend that he’d merely washed off the barbecue stain on his clothes when so much more had happened? He couldn’t. Blocking all these thoughts was a lost cause only a Hollywood actor could pull off.

  Breathing deeply, hoping that he didn’t smell like the ocean and that his unnatural vanilla-scented breath wasn’t that noticeable, Ian slowed down his pace as he gazed at Hazel, Tianna, Amanda, and Eddy, sitting on the booths and chatting with each other, smiling and laughing like they were having a great time. Jimmy, interestingly enough, was absent.

  Approaching his friends with a weak smile, a wave of nausea sweeping over him, Ian was half-tempted to just run back into the restroom and wait there for a few minutes to see if his face changed back to its normal state. But that was the timid approach. Deep down, he knew his face wasn’t going to change any, and so he might as well face his fears sooner rather than later.

  So, taking a deep breath and putting on a cool composure, Ian slid onto the booth next to Eddy and chuckled softly. “Hey, I’m back. Miss me?”

  But the girls just gasped, unable to pry their eyes from him, their eyes widening utter amazement, their mouths falling open in astonishment.

  As soon as Hazel had recovered enough to speak, she wiped her hands nervously on her napkin and looked up at him sheepishly. “What’d you do to your face, Ian?”

  A lump arose in his throat. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean...” she stammered, her own face turning the hue of a salmon crayon. “How do I put this … you--”

  “I what?” Biting his lip in agony, he fought back the fear that sought to devour him, feeling he might gag. He’d never seen her stutter before, yet here she was stumbling over each word. This was definitely a bad sign of things to come.

  As he waited anxiously for her to respond, she twirled her long blonde hair in her fingers as her light blue eyes narrowed in fright, her sweet voice weak and uncertain. “I think...” she finally murmured, before breaking up and starting a new sentence. “Um … did you put on some kind of makeup just now?”

  “Makeup?” A flush of red swept over his whole face. First, he was accused of wearing a dress, then wearing perfume, and now this. What was he becoming … a girl?

  “Yes, makeup,” here she trailed off again, unable to continue, as she looked up at him and blushed. “It’s just...” she continued, her words soft and nearly inaudible, “you look so cute now.”

  His head spun into the clouds. This was even more humiliating than the time his sister had tr
icked him into putting red lipstick on and he’d gone to school unaware of how he looked. Sure, he’d been called a girl for weeks afterwards, but at least he had a valid reason for why he’d done it--it was his sister’s fault. Now, however, he couldn’t think of even one realistic explanation for why his face looked so different, and in spite of his preparation, his face continued to burn hotter. “Cute?” he murmured, somewhat angrily. Only a girl should be called cute.

  “Handsome, whatever,” she muttered, lowering her blonde eyebrows and avoiding eye contact with him. Amanda’s mouth still remained wide open in astonishment. Tianna kept studying his face, bewilderment drawing lines on her forehead.

  He had to break the mountainous tension. “It’s simple, really,” he began, trying to overcome this crushing experience by adding a touch of humor. “All I did was rub some magical liquid onto my face and voila--you see me now.” He grinned widely, like a successful magician.

  They didn’t buy it, but at least their moods lightened. “Come on,” said Tianna in disbelief, laughing softly, stacking her dirty empty plate on top of two others. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “It’s the only explanation you’re gonna get.” After ten seconds, Ian began to fidget,

  growing steadily more uncomfortable. When a question popped into his head, he gladly verbalized it. “So, where’s Jimmy anyway?”

  “He went to the restroom to wash his hands,” replied Hazel in a whisper, not looking a bit interested in Jimmy’s fate, as she stared at him as if she were trying to solve a complicated jigsaw puzzle. But Ian was anything but disinterested.

  So he went to the restroom? he thought, puzzling over Jimmy’s whereabouts, as he got off the booth and was just about to head over to get some salad, the only thing he felt he could handle right now. That’s weird. I don’t remember seeing anyone in there.

  But Hazel didn’t give him time to think about this for long. Her eyes, swirling with puzzlement, fixed themselves onto his blue jeans and sweater, beaming with deep interest. “Hey, man, why aren’t your clothes wet? Didn’t you just wash them?”

  Disturbed and somewhat startled by this new topic, he looked down at his clothes, his completely dry clothes. “Uh...yeah,” he muttered, as he grinned slightly. “But you’ve gotta understand, I didn’t use that much water, and I dried them off thoroughly.” Sadly, both of these statements were lies, but it couldn’t be helped. The true story was so implausible that even he had a hard time believing it.

  “Those hand dryers must be pretty high tech then,” she murmured sarcastically, not willing to back down from her argument. “Most don’t dry clothes that quickly.”

  He smiled wryly. “Why do I even try? You caught me.” He shrugged nonchalantly, as Hazel gave him the weirdest look. “I used my superpowers to speed-dry my clothes.”

  Confusion in her eyes, she chuckled, a nervous blush on her cheeks, as if she’d thought Ian above making such silly excuses. “I don’t think you can do that, Ian,” she replied hesitantly.

  But he just laughed, “Amazing, isn’t it?” He placed his hands on the table in direct view of Hazel, as he suddenly realized that he was definitely not acting like himself. Whether it were the necklace’s power or the merfolk’s culture, something had changed him--he was never this weird before. If he didn’t snap out of this quickly, he might say something really foolish … not that he hadn’t already, but it was best to not even go there. What was said, could not go unsaid.

  Unfortunately, though, Hazel didn’t give him any time to change back to himself. Staring at his hands, she just shook her head in bewilderment. “What’s wrong with your hands?” she asked, sudden concern in her voice.

  Her abrupt change in topic deeply unsettled him. “My hands?” He looked down at his hands and noticed that they were bruised--his knuckles scratched. Remembrance dawned on him, but it was too late to hide them now. He faked a smile, realizing that rescuing the mermaid hadn’t come without a cost. “Oh, they’re fine,” he said assuredly. “Just a few scrapes … that’s all.”

  “But they weren’t like this a little bit ago.”

  He chuckled nervously, growing rather annoyed at Hazel’s keen observations. “What, do you watch everything about me?”

  She shrugged off his comment. “Did you cut yourself in the bathroom or what?”

  “Yeah, you caught me,” he said sarcastically. “That’s why the cuts are already healed.” Really, even he wasn’t sure how they’d healed so fast. It must have had something to do with mermen healing faster.

  Whatever the case, though, Hazel was completely perplexed. Folding her hands, she just continued staring at his hands in a daze. “But how could they heal so quickly?”

  He responded without even thinking, “More of my magic, I guess.”

  At this comment, Eddy grimaced--he’d had enough. Nudging Ian’s side fiercely with his elbow, Eddy put the last two bites of cinnamon apple pie on hold. “Come on, man--what’s Jimmy doin’ to you?”

  “Nothing.” Tense, Ian tacked on his most casual smile, hiding his tumultuous inner emotions. This was going much worse than he’d expected. He just wanted it to end.

  “Nothing?” questioned Eddy, eyebrows raised. “Then what’s with the weird attitude recently?”

  “Weird attitude?” asked Ian, as he felt his full stomach trying to reject his mission of getting a plate of salad. Why did he have to eat so much in the merfolk kingdom?

  “Yeah, you’re suddenly into Halloween, you try out girl’s perfume, you keep talking about magic, and now you put on makeup.” He pushed his glass to the side, dry humor in his voice. “What, are you auditioning for Sabrina the Teenage Witch?”

  “Real funny, Eddy; you know that show’s not airing new episodes.”

  “That’s beside the point,” he said, chuckling only slightly before facing his friend, seriousness now in his eyes. “But really, man, what’s goin’ on?”

  “I’m not sure,” he replied, biting his tongue to keep his face neutral.

  “Well, find out.” Eddy sat back, as he studied his friend’s face again. He frowned. “I feel like I don’t even know you anymore.”

  Ian’s heart throbbed. He stood up, trying to jest about his worries. “Lighten up, man; it’s no big deal. We all have our off days.” Pausing, as Eddy frowned at him again, he added, “Yeah … so how about we grab some food?”

  His face lightened a bit, a faint sigh escaped his lips. “Sure, man.”

  Grabbing a plate, Ian silently ground his teeth together in agony as he headed off to the salad section of the buffet with Eddy tagging behind, the girls whispering among themselves at the table, likely about him. Never mind that he was as stuffed as a pirate’s treasure chest after eating all that food at the merfolk palace; he’d make this work.

  Scooping some lettuce onto his plate, followed by green bell peppers, spinach, broccoli, and squeezing a mesquite lime-marinade onto it, he commented to Eddy about him going green. Eddy actually laughed. Ian smiled inwardly--he could turn things around.

  Taking his time filling up another plate with various junk foods like butterscotch pudding, raspberry tapioca pudding, and a blob of vanilla ice cream, he began to sprinkle various candy pieces onto his ice cream, taking his time. Hopefully, the waitress or Jimmy would come back to the booth before he did. Either way the attention would switch off him--at least temporarily. It just had to.

  Chapter 22

  Will draw my eyes to it? thought Jimmy fearfully, replaying Commander Gavar’s words, as he turned into yet another dark alleyway, hoping to get out of this maze, and find the inn entitled the Apple Orchard, oblivious to the fact that he was in Sarette Village and not Copperstone’s Creek where the desired inn was located. Then why haven’t I spotted it yet?

  Ever since he’d left the barracks, everything had gone wrong: he’d been robbed by a rough band of thieves, who took his whole burlap sack of money, his wallet, fortunately not containing more than twenty dollars, and his cell phone; he’d been stung on his a
rm by a flying centipede type of insect; and he’d somehow taken the road into the bad part of town--the slums--which he couldn’t seem to escape from.

  If anything, he should be glad to still have the keys to his truck, which the thieves didn’t seem to take any interest in. Yet, as he’d probably be stuck here forever, these keys wouldn’t likely do him any good.

  As he walked uneasily down a dusty narrow path surrounded by dirty patched houses with tattered clothes hanging on the sides of them acting as windows, loose shingles on top, and garbage piles consisting of moldy fruit, raw meat, and other disgusting things near their bases, fear trickled inside of him. Around every corner, behind every window, on every roof, a murderer could lurk, waiting for the opportune moment to slash away his life. And he wouldn’t even have a chance. Adrenaline rushing through him, he quickened his pace, his eyes growing more alert. He wouldn’t die without a fight.

  Starting to feel a bit braver, he suddenly heard low coarse laughter, the sort exhibited by drunkards, coming from somewhere near him. Crouching behind a stack of wooden crates, keeping his blue jeans off the repulsive dirt and his body hidden, he then peered through the crates and noticed to his horror a band of well-clad thieves with knives, daggers, swords, and other paraphernalia attached to their belts; the same ones who’d robbed him earlier.

  As they drew closer, he made out a symbol of a red axe sewn onto their cloaks. He held his breath as they scuffled past him.

  “Heh, heh … ole blacksmith Garvi’s gonna get it again. When we’re a done with him, he ain’t gonna have any money left for his poor daughter.”

  “No dowry, no marriage,” said another in an acerbic voice. “She’ll remain unwed til’ she die.”