Heroine's Journey

by Sarah Kuhn

  KA: Is this something you do often?

  CC: Yeah, I got a pretty sweet seashell collection, if I do say so myself. And I do. [laughs] I’m training to be a professional wrestler, and I want to have, like, a thing, you know? A trademark. I thought maybe it could be seashells.

  KA: Like you’d make a costume out of seashells or . . . ?

  CC: Nah, girl, how uncomfortable would that be? I mean I’d just be known as, like, the wrestler who collects seashells.

  KA: Oh, uh, okay. Cool! So you were leaving behind the sand dollars and . . . ?

  CC: Yeah, and then I stood at the edge of the shore for a minute, looking out at the water.

  KA: Contemplating your day ahead, that sort of thing?

  CC: I was actually imagining how that pose and scenery would look in my official publicity shots. Gotta start practicing that shit now so I’ll be ready when the time comes, ya know?

  KA: Totally! And how did you go from practicing PR photo poses to—

  CC: Being in the water, screaming my dumb head off? Well, Doc, at first I didn’t remember at all, it was just this big, blurry gap. But then I sat down and really tried to recreate my mental steps, ya know? And I do remember this: I was thinking about wrestling. I mean, I’m always thinking about wrestling to some degree.

  KA: It’s your passion, sounds like.

  CC: Definitely. But that day, I was specifically thinking: What if it doesn’t work out? What if I’m never good enough to go pro, what if I never get my shot? I had a bad practice the other day, like, really bad. There’s this guy I spar with, he calls himself the Teriyaki Terror, because— You know what, it’s not important. What is important is that he kicked my ass. And it made me wonder what would happen if I never made it. I mean, I don’t really have a back-up plan.

  KA: There’s nothing else you want to do? Nothing else you love?

  CC: Eh. Not really. I mean, I love eating loco moco, but I don’t know if there’s a career in that, really? You like loco moco, Doc?

  KA: Love it.

  CC: Try Okazuya and Deli, best loco moco ever. Anyway, I was thinking about this really hard, and then all of a sudden . . . This is gonna sound really ridiculous, Doc.

  KA: It’s okay. Don’t be afraid to say it, this is a safe space. And since demonology is my area of study, ridiculous is my business.

  CC: Hey, that’s catchy! You should get it on a business card.

  KA: I did, actually. Most people didn’t find it very amusing.

  CC: Aw, man, I would have given you mad props for that, Doc, I think it’s hilarious. Anyway, I’ve tried to remember this moment over and over again, and it’s still kind of hazy, but I swear the ocean was, like, whispering to me, Doc. Telling me that if I walked into the waves, I’d be guaranteed success as a wrestler. I’d achieve that dream no matter what.

  KA: So you got a sense this voice was coming from the ocean. Was there any other source you could see?

  CC: Nah.

  KA: And was it saying these exact words to you or . . . ?

  CC: It was more like this overwhelming feeling. Like all of a sudden I was convinced that if I walked into the water, I’d get the thing I wanted most in the world.

  KA: That must have been very powerful.

  CC: It was. It took over my brain. There wasn’t room for anything else. And it was like . . . like it was also telling me I was special, Doc. This force, whatever it was, focused on me. Let me know those other wrestlers weren’t important. I don’t feel important very much, Doc. But in that moment, I felt like whatever was happening was all about me. I was the center of the universe. It was awesome. And the next thing I know, I’m floundering around in the waves, yelling for help. That part wasn’t so awesome.

  KA: Have you had any reoccurrences of this, felt the same message from any other sources?

  CC: Nah. I’ve been back to that beach a few times, too—nothing.

  KA: Really? You went back to that beach? Even after your experience?

  CC: Well, yeah, Doc. We gotta live, don’t we? And nobody ever lived a full life staying home, avoiding everything that scared ’em. I mean, I did invest in swimming lessons, though.

  KA: Sounds like a wise choice.

  CC: I’ve gotten so many more seashells for my collection. I’m thinking my pro wrestler name’s gonna be The Shellinator. What do you think?

  KA: I like that very much.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  I KNEW WHAT I had to do. Well, sort of.

  I still didn’t have all the pieces yet. But I had enough of an idea of what was maybe going on and what might work. Considering that I’d pretty much torpedoed my entire life, I had nothing left to lose by putting stock in mights and maybes. If I could save some innocent Bay Areans from being imprisoned in a shitty pocket prison dimension of the Otherworld . . . well, my life would still be torpedoed and I’d probably never be a true superhero, but at least I’d have accomplished something.

  In a weird way, my loss of hope was freeing. From this point on, anything even remotely positive would be a nice surprise.

  I didn’t know if what Carmelo Cruz—aspiring pro wrestler and loco moco fan—had experienced was directly connected to what was happening here. But his words brought some things home for me, things my brain had been dancing around this whole time. For one, humans will do just about anything to get what they want. Even if it doesn’t make sense, even it’s dangerous, even if it fucks up other people. I don’t know how I could have entrusted my hope to a species as broken as we are.

  And as for the rest . . . well, I’d just have to try my latest experiment and see if I was right.

  It was early morning when I slipped out of HQ, the sun slivering its way through the marine layer. I burrowed into the folds of my woolly cardigan and caught the bus to It’s Lit. It was way too early for the store to be open yet, so I let myself in, disabled the alarm, and surveyed the scene. It looked like things had been mostly cleaned up after I’d left. The remnants of broken furniture were piled in a corner, books had been arranged for re-shelving in haphazard stacks on the floor, and there were a few paint splotches on the walls. And of course the porcelain unicorns were lurking in all kinds of random places, although they appeared to have reconstituted themselves and gone back to being inanimate. Being surrounded by them now made me shudder. I felt like their beady little eyes were staring at me from every angle.

  I stood in the middle of the store, put my hands on my hips, and addressed the empty air.

  “Okay, listen,” I said, making my voice firm and clear. “I don’t know exactly how it works, but here’s what I think I know. One of you Otherworld assholes figured out how to access certain locations in San Francisco through humans connected to said locations. You got the Wave Organ through Poet, you got the Market through Kathy, and you got the hospital through Bernard. You gave them a version of my power so they could mind-control people and get whatever they wanted most in life: high school popularity, or be rid of a nemesis, or more alone time with a beloved collection of writing implements. And that power also helped them lure other humans into your freaky demon prison dimension—because you need some kind of human sacrifices in order to solidify your connection to these locations and truly weaponize them.”

  I waited, thinking maybe I’d actually get a response. I didn’t, so I kept going.

  “They all took you up on your offer,” I continued. “Because some humans will do anything to get whatever their dearest dream is. I almost did. And that brings me to the other major piece of this that I think I’ve figured out: For whatever reason, this grand demon plan . . .” I paused. Was I really going to say this next part out loud? I pushed doubt aside and bulldozed on. “This grand demon plan was all about me.”

  I waited again for a response. Still nothing.

  “Look at the people you targeted,” I said. “Kathy, my mother’s old fr
iend. Bernard, who worked at the hospital where she died. And Poet, a girl who reminded me of . . . well, me. When I was younger. You gave them a version of my power. You played on all my insecurities. And you put out clues that would send me on a wild fucking goose chase, because you knew I wouldn’t be able to resist the chance to get what I want most in life: my mother.”

  My voice wobbled. I straightened my spine, determined to stay strong. “I don’t know if that’s really my mother that’s been talking to me. I was so sure it was. But now I’m not sure of anything. I don’t know if you want me because I can give you access to It’s Lit—if the bookstore is some kind of key in taking over San Francisco. I don’t know if you want me because of my power or . . . or if you’re just making me feel special because you know I’m extra susceptible to that. I mean. I almost banished Nicole Yamamoto to a demon prison for you. And she may be my nemesis, but she most certainly does not deserve that. So I’m standing here, talking to the empty air like a dork, because I want you to let me into the Otherworld and tell me what the ever-loving fuck is going on.” I drew myself up taller, trying to look fierce. Yes, I still looked like a cartoon character—mermaid hair, goth-y makeup, slip dress/cardigan combo. But I would not be underestimated this time. “Let me in. Now.”

  I stood there, trying to maintain my power pose. Silence permeated the room, and I should have felt silly. But after spitting all of that out, I was too pissed off to feel silly. Rage bubbled through my veins, thick and toxic, overwhelming everything else.

  “Let . . . me . . . in,” I hissed. I reached out with my mind, trying to find the brain plane. I felt that bright light again, ran toward it, embraced it. And before I knew quite what was happening, a veil descended over everything and that blurry spot appeared in front of me in the air. I didn’t hesitate. I ran toward it and jumped through.

  I landed in that huge meadow again, my mother standing over me.

  “Oh, Bug,” she said, beaming with pride. “I knew you’d figure it out. You were always so smart.”

  “Who are you?” I said, scrambling to my feet. “What are you? Because . . .” My voice wobbled again and I struggled like mad to keep it steady. “My mother would not manipulate me this way.” I’d been afraid to say that out loud, to admit that whatever was standing before me was most definitely not my mother. Because then I would have to admit that yes, my mother—my real mother—was actually dead. There was no magical, miraculous resurrection to be had. No warm, fuzzy scenario where she came back to Evie and me and somehow mended our dysfunctional relationship and made everything better. She wasn’t going to fix me. None of this had been real. My stupid hope had led me down the most wrong of paths.

  “I am your mother,” she said, taking a step toward me. I took an instinctive step back. “In all the ways that matter.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I said, rolling my eyes. “So are you a shapeshifting demon robot or a hologram that has all of her memories or something? Because that’s what someone says when they are totally a robot or a hologram with human memories.”

  “It’s more complex than that,” she said. She gestured to a small stone bench next to us. “Why don’t we sit down and talk?”

  “Uh, did you just make that appear?” I said. “I don’t remember it being there before. Seriously, is this the demon dimension version of the holodeck?”

  “Sit next to me,” she said, settling herself on the bench.

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “No.”

  “Suit yourself,” she said. “I do love that stubbornness. My darling, the first thing you need to know is you were right: this has all been for you.”

  “Why?” I demanded.

  “I wanted to bring you here. To be with me,” she said, smiling angelically.

  “That . . . can’t be it,” I said. “Let’s go back to the beginning. How did you figure out you could access humans in our world—and through them, locations in our world—in the first place?”

  “It was just as you theorized with your brilliant boot hole analogy,” she said, angelic smile in place. “There are places where the walls between your world and mine are rubbed so very thin. One day, I realized I could see through them. And I saw you. That’s one of my powers—to be able to connect with others’ minds that way, though I can’t influence them the way you can. But I could see into your brain, access all your memories, hear your every thought and feeling: your astonishing power, your hurt, your longing for me. I knew if I could bring you to me . . . well, I could make you even more amazing. Help you reach your full potential.”

  “And here I kept hoping for someone to finally see my full potential,” I muttered, shaking my head. “Of course this is how it turns out.”

  “I did so many experiments, trying to reach through the walls and communicate with you,” she continued. Her voice still had that musical quality. Now instead of being soothing, it was disconcerting. “But your power made your mind so strong, I could never quite get there. I couldn’t get past simply seeing your mind. You were always thinking of your mother, your past. I saw a memory you had of Kathy, so I went in search of her.” Her smile widened, and I saw a glint of maliciousness in her eyes. “And she was perfect—so lonely, so vulnerable. Vivian was her only friend. All she had left in life was that sad little craft stand. And when the pretzel booth went up . . . well, it was so popular, people started passing her right by. She was so afraid the stand would be taken away from her, too. It took me a long time, but her mind was susceptible, and I finally got through to her. I convinced her I could give her everything, if she would just help me get to you. I helped her remember she had that box of your mother’s letters—”

  “Wait.” I shook my head. “Were those letters invented solely for my fake quest here or—”

  “They’re real,” she said, giving me a nod. “Kathy didn’t want to give them to you. They were her treasured mementos and all she had left of Vivian, even though they rightfully belong to you and Evie. I convinced her they were the perfect thing to get you started on your journey.”

  “How did you give her and the others a version of my power?” I asked. My brain was whirling, trying to piece it all together.

  “Another one of my experiments,” she said, beaming. “Really, we’re so alike, you and I. I had a version of your power perfectly copied and preserved, and once I was able to connect with Kathy and the others directly, I realized I could pass it on to them.”

  “How did you have a version of my power just lying around?” I sputtered. “And why—”

  A shadow passed over her face. “We’ll get to that in a bit.”

  “All right, so you were trying to get to me,” I said, reaching for another piece of the puzzle. “Was that . . . I mean, what are all these voices I’ve been hearing? Because sometimes they’ve helped me and sometimes they’ve done the opposite, and I’m just so . . . confused.”

  “The voice you heard when you first went to the Market, telling you not to buy a pretzel—the one you thought might be me—was actually Kathy testing the waters, trying to discourage people from partaking of her rival’s pretzels. And the voice at the hospital—”

  “Bernard?” I guessed. “Trying to get me to go downstairs so I could find Mom’s file?”

  “Which he had already removed pieces of, to pique your interest,” she said, nodding with approval. “And then gave to Kathy for safekeeping.”

  “But what about the second voice at the Market?” I said, trying to make sense of it. “The one that took me to the Ferris wheel? I thought that was Pretzel Guy.”

  “It was,” she said, her eyes darkening. “That was an unexpected complication. The walls between worlds were so thin, he too was able to reach through and communicate with you. He tried to lure you away, to that empty carnival area, hoping Kathy wouldn’t notice. But she was so connected to her location by then, she felt it, so she used her connection to—”
<
br />   “—to make a carnival ride stomp me to death in the between dimension?” I spat out. “If all this was to lure me in, that doesn’t seem like the most effective tactic. And you know, Bernard also kind of tried to stop me from getting any information whatsoever.”

  “Everything we’ve done that seemed antagonistic was all to lead you down the path, my darling, to lead you here. Because I still couldn’t reach your mind directly—it was just too strong. I was able to leave you a little note at the bookstore—the writing on the wall, which I copied so perfectly from the letters Kathy was holding on to. I spoke to you through young Poet. And your friend’s spell in the bathroom helped me to talk to you briefly.” She smiled. “I know you so well. I knew exactly how to hook your curiosity, how to get you to investigate things and push the boundaries of your power—”

  “And my power has grown and morphed every time I’ve visited the Otherworld,” I said. “The whole thing where I could suddenly implant direct thoughts in people, control them—”

  “You can do so much,” she said, her voice dreamy. “I suspected, but I didn’t know for sure that the Otherworld would enhance your power. You haven’t even begun to explore just how much yet. Just look at what you accomplished at the Art Jam—”

  “Um, nothing,” I said. “I accomplished nothing after Kathy and Co. showed up and made Charlotte’s porcelain unicorn collection come to life—”

  “No,” she said, beaming at me. “They pushed you to make the porcelain unicorn collection come to life. You may recall a bright light, calling for you to embrace it. Because you’re the one connected to It’s Lit—you’re the one who can weaponize this location. You did that. Even though you didn’t quite know it.”

  “Um, how?” I said, rolling my eyes. “I haven’t given you your precious human sacrifice yet, so technically I shouldn’t be able to—”