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by Ella J. Smyth


  What followed was a script for tablets that made her feel drowsy and spaced out as well as many, many more meetings with Dr. Niederegger. He was a great listener and smiled at her encouragingly every time she hesitated. Adi didn’t mind speaking to him, but she learned not to talk about what she saw anymore. The drugs seemed to work, and eventually, she’d stopped seeing what others couldn’t. Mind over matter, she’d thought at the time. Until now.

  She got up and dropped her mug into the sink with an impatient sigh. She had no time for this nonsense. She had done it once and she could do it again. If she ignored her hallucinations, they would go away, just as before. Exams were coming up next month and she needed to pull herself together. She was so close to finishing her third year with near-perfect grades. Seeing animals that weren’t there was not on her agenda! Then she thought of how concerned her mother had been and her chest clenched. That had been the last year before everything had changed.

  Suddenly she had such a longing to connect with them, with her mom and dad, that she found herself on her knees, pulling a large box from underneath the bed. With shaking fingers, she pulled out a scrapbook she had created after the accident, full of memories. Her eyes blurred when she saw herself held in her parents’ arms, only a few hours old.

  Her memories had begun to fade, but she knew just by looking at their faces that she had been loved, and that her parents had loved each other. Her hand fumbled for her medallion, as it did every time she felt overwhelmed. She whispered, “I miss you guys so, so much,” before turning over.

  The next page showed her extended family at their wedding, except for her father’s mother, who hadn’t approved of the match. There was nothing she could do of course, given that Adi was on her way, but she’d made her new daughter-in-law’s life hell.

  Sighing, she wiped her eyes and let go of her necklace. There was no point dwelling on the past and every reason to look towards the future. All she had to do was hit the books hard and pass her exams. No pressure then.

  2

  Adi was so engrossed in her Manual of Germanic Mythology, she was surprised when it became harder and harder to distinguish the letters in front of her eyes. The golden light streaming through her window was weakening, and the university’s faux-Victorian streetlights were coming on, one by one, outside her hall.

  She jumped up, remembering that the library was only open until nine p.m. She banged the door behind her, then stopped. Seriously, every time! With an impatient grumble, she rushed back in to get her jacket from the back of her chair.

  When Adi finally left the dorm building, she shivered and pulled her jacket tightly around her chest. The breeze had freshened further, and she felt, rather than saw, little drops of icy water settle on her face. She stuck out her tongue and enjoyed the feel of snowflakes melting. She smacked her lips, the metallic taste pulling her back to winters walking to and from the International School back in Germany.

  For some reason, whenever she remembered Frankfurt, she thought of winter. Mostly overcast and dull, but equally often with the sun so low on the horizon that the city streets around her were silhouetted in stark black shadows.

  As a child, she’d loved wearing her little pink sunglasses, holding on tight to the straps of her backpack. This was before all the visions had started that made her doubt her own sanity and caused her parents untold anxiety. She remembered overhearing her mother crying, and her father assuring her that there was nothing wrong with their little daughter. And if there was, they’d fix it before his mother found out.

  Even at such a young age, Adi had understood that her father’s mother hated his wife and by extension, their daughter. The next day, her father had gone out and set up a trust fund that would guarantee her education. Once again, Adi silently thanked her parents for thinking ahead and not leaving her to the questionable mercies of her paternal grandmother, Mrs. Worthington. That trust fund was her ticket to independence, to the life she wanted to live.

  Of course the money was only available as long as Adi stayed sane. During the reading of the will, Adi was shocked to find that as soon as she showed sign of a mental breakdown, the trust fund was no longer available for her education but only for her treatment.

  Then she found out that Mrs. Worthington was well aware of the condition and had in fact attempted to contest the terms of the trust fund for several years. She had even gone so far as trying to have her declared mentally incompetent. Adi remembered being subjected to interviews with various doctors, but had always assumed that they were trying to help. She hadn’t had a relapse since. What she thought she’d seen earlier was a trick of the light. The alternative was unthinkable.

  Dammit, Daddy. What the hell were you thinking? All Adi could guess at this stage was that Henry Worthington III had tried to protect his daughter while not breaking all ties to his mother’s family.

  With a bitter laugh, Adi shrugged off the unpleasant memories of years spent alone in boarding school, and walked faster. It was really getting ridiculously cold, given the time of year. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a shadow that made her turn her head.

  There was another student, trying to reach the library as well. His head was down, hands in pockets, and she didn’t recognize him. What made her inhale sharply was the fox perching on his head. It was a rather small fox, and Adi looked again to make sure that it was in fact a little animal and not a hat. No, no doubt at all.

  The young man’s path converged with hers, and she met up with him right in front of the library door. The little fox was gorgeous, with a cute black button nose that twitched as its jaw rested on the boy’s head. When Adi came closer, it turned its head towards her. Adi looked into the greenest, most beautiful eyes she had ever seen. The animal looked so pretty, and like the epitome of what a fox looked like in a child’s book. Adi had seen foxes in zoos before, and they were bigger and rougher than this little creature. Their eyes met and Adi could have sworn that it smiled at her. Not a hallucination then—she could smell his fur, musky and wild.

  She slowed her pace a little and allowed the student to enter the library before her. Then she quickly caught up because she wanted to see the librarian’s reaction to the animal invading the sanctuary that was the library. Entering the warm building after breathing in the icy air made her throat tickle, and she had to suppress a cough. After she cleared her throat, she looked up and saw the boy with the fox walking past the front desk and towards the back.

  He politely greeted the elderly lady who ruled the library with frowns and stern glances. The corners of her mouth twitched and she nodded slightly to him as if she wasn’t surprised to see him here at this hour. A regular, it seemed. There was no way she could have overlooked the animal. Adi’s eyebrow rose as she watched him disappear into the back of the building without being challenged or even questioned. What had just happened? There was no way Mrs. Wosniak wouldn’t have stopped a student from bringing an animal into the building.

  On impulse Adi approached the front desk. Mrs. Wosniak glared at her. Okay, so she was in her normal mood. Then Adi started. How had she never noticed this before? On the librarian’s desk sat a parrot. A rather large, magnificent bird, its chest covered in bright mustard-colored feathers, its beak black and its face white with thin black stripes around its eyes. While Adi watched in fascination, it beat its large blue wings and screeched a challenge at her.

  She involuntarily took a step back when Mrs. Wosniak snapped, “Can I help you?” Her voice had an uncanny resemblance to the bird’s. The parrot inclined its head, and its beady eyes were fixed on her.

  Adi swallowed drily. “Yes,” she said slowly. She tried to quickly think of something else to say. “I wonder… could I bring my dog to the library with me? He gets kinda lonely…" Her voice trailed off.

  Mrs. Wosniak’s eyebrows had been steadily climbing towards her hairline as Adi talked.

  “A dog? Are you blind?” Adi tried to follow the non sequitur.

  “Ah, no?”


  “Only guide dogs are allowed in here. Honestly, have you ever seen pets in a library?” Mrs. Wosniak’s expression hovered between enraged and genuinely puzzled.

  Adi smiled engagingly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think—”

  “Clearly not,” the librarian interrupted, throwing another stern glance at her.

  Adi nodded her head and moved towards the bookshelves. Okay, that was just weird. Not only had a student just walked past the librarian with a frigging fox on his shoulder, Mrs. Wosniak herself had a parrot, large as life, sitting on her desk.

  Adi felt the first tendrils of fear rising within her chest and took a deep breath. The same questions that had haunted her throughout her childhood and teenage years started to come back to her. Am I insane? Is this reality or a figment of my imagination? How can I tell the difference?

  Adi swallowed down her panic and decided to bury herself in the paper that was due in a few days. If she worked hard, this would pass as it had before. But then she heard another squawk, and she glanced back involuntarily. The bird was still there, regarding her haughtily. Its eyes fixed on her, it seemed to grin as it followed her progress.

  Adi turned her head forward just in time to smash her nose into a pillar. Behind her, she heard a dual snicker, bird and human. Her cheeks burning, she turned the corner to get out of their eyeline.

  Dammit, that hurt! She rubbed her nose furiously and was relieved to find no blood on her fingers. Shielding her face with both hands, she bent over and leaned against a wall behind her. What a crappy day. Raising her head with a deep inhale, she wiped away the involuntary tears from the corners of her eyes and forced herself to smile. Come on, focus! Another deep breath and she was ready to come out of her hiding place. With her head held high, Adi resisted the temptation to glance at the odd couple and walked the few steps to the library’s mythology section.

  She had always enjoyed fairy tales. Her German grandmother, Oma-Adi, had told her all of Grimm’s Fairy Tales when she was little. Not the sanitized Disney versions, either. How many American children knew that Cinderella’s sisters had chopped their toes and heels off to fit the glass slipper? And that when the prince kept his word and tried to wed them, one after the other, the innocent turtle doves who’d helped Cinderella throughout the story had whispered about “blood in the shoe” and then pecked the sisters’ eyes out? Or that in one of the stories, the evil queen had been forced to dance in red-hot shoes until she died?

  Adi shuddered in horrified delight. There was something cathartic about evil being vanquished from the world and evildoers made to suffer, even though it clashed with her modern sensibilities. It had never bothered her as a child, and she was determined that her children read the real stories that were still told in Germany today as well as the pretty modern versions.

  Adi was so absorbed in her work, taking down notes, rereading passages of mythology, that she didn't realize how late it was. When a shadow fell over her desk, she looked up and it took her a moment to orient herself.

  Mrs. Wosniak stood over her and said rather gruffly, "We're closing up. Please put the books back where they belong,” and shuffled off back towards her desk.

  Adi felt like a kid being told to clean up her room. She quickly gathered her materials and tidied her work area before leaving the library. On her way out, she glanced sideways at the front desk and noticed no sign of the parrot. Mrs. Wosniak must have already taken the bird outside. With another shake of her head, Adi began her journey back towards her room.

  Honi hung up with a sigh. Part of his agreement with the tribal elders was that he call and speak to shaman John Parker at least once a week, more often if needed. This wasn't a huge burden—he really liked chatting to the man he thought of as his uncle. It helped him stay in touch with his tribe and his family, especially when he felt a little excluded from college life. He didn't have many friends on campus, nor did he have any desire to hang out with the other students.

  When he’d first arrived, he had gone to some parties, picked up a few girls, but felt so unsatisfied the next morning that he had given up on the idea of one-night stands. He didn't really feel like hooking up with girls who knew nothing about him, or where he came from. Honi's brow wrinkled and his eyes grew hard as he remembered his last experience.

  This girl had flirted with him in the cafeteria, and she was very pretty. His muscular physique made him stand out on campus, even though he was not the only Native American student. He knew she'd be an easy lay the minute he saw her look at him. Attraction and lust were written on her face. Her long blond hair and bubble butt clad in tight jeans were the only reason why he’d allowed himself to be pulled into the alley behind the building.

  Tammy, he seemed to remember her name was, had wrapped herself around him and the kissing was great. That was, until he’d come up for air and seen her spirit animal. Honi had known by then that spirit animals were reflections of their human's character and soul, and Tammy’s animal was hideous. Shaggy, neglected, not evil but indicative of such a lack of self-worth that he’d shuddered back from the girl’s luscious red lips and grabbing hands. She had taken it badly and spread the news about the “Indian freak”.

  From then on, even if he’d wanted to find somebody, he couldn't. For weeks, he hadn’t spoken to anybody other than his professors. And even though most days it didn't bother him, some nights he felt so lonely it made him ache for his family. Talking to John was the highlight of his week.

  Except that this week, he had run into a brunette girl who shared his ability—even though she didn't seem to understand what this meant. Honi hadn’t mentioned this to the shaman yet, but tonight, his mentor had reminded him once again to focus on his calling so that soon, he'd be able to help others with similar gifts. This conversation was eerily similar to Honi's thoughts over the last few days. While he listened to John going on about “gifts” this and “calling” that, Adi's face kept popping into his thoughts.

  Honi had gotten into the habit of walking and thinking. While his body automatically put one foot in front of the other, his thoughts turned and twisted with indecision. He liked her spunk and energy. She obviously had no idea about her abilities, and Honi wasn’t sure if this would cause problems for her.

  There were some in his tribe that might have had the same gift, but because hardly anybody believed in it anymore, the ability was lost. This had likely happened to Adi as well, although she was quite old to still be able to connect to others’ spirit animals. Usually it manifested in young kids but disappeared as they grew up.

  When he’d tried to talk to her, she’d clammed up immediately. Honi’s brows furrowed when he remembered how she’d directed her anger at him. She had lovely brown eyes, but when she’d shot him down, they had turned hard and cold, and he didn’t like being looked at like that.

  He shrugged unconsciously while kicking a plastic bottle cap ahead of him. Ho’neo jumped and threw a baleful glare at him. Honi smiled apologetically at his spirit wolf, then sighed. There was no point getting distracted from his studies by someone who didn’t want his help anyway.

  John had complimented him tonight on the progress he was making with his studies. His grades put him in the top of his class. Honi hadn’t told him that the reason was that he had no friends, and that he spent every waking hour studying. It didn’t matter—his shaman had talked about how distractions would weaken him and interfere with his purpose of helping the tribe. Honi sighed and tried to imagine John’s reaction if Honi told him about Adi. It wouldn’t go over well.

  When Honi opened the door to his dorm room, he stopped for a moment. Night had fallen quickly, and he took a few seconds to take in the peace and tranquility of his oasis on campus. Light from the lamps outside streamed through the window, bathing his room in a slightly off-putting yellow tinge. His bed, chair and desk were still witnesses to his need to organize the world around him.

  Not a corner of the sheet hung loose, and the bed-spread was pulled tight, his chair pu
shed fully underneath the desk. His shelf held an impressive collection of his books on Mekui’te culture and mythology, side by side with Anthropology books and folders with printouts of Sutton’s Indian Country and the Law. Honi finally switched on his light and took the time to empty out his book bag before settling down to yet another evening of course preparation and study.

  He woke with a start, confused for a moment. Staying perfectly still, he allowed his senses to reconnect to the world around him. The smell of chamomile tea in a cup right next to his bed. A car’s headlights shone momentarily through his windows, extending the shadows of the furniture to grotesque proportions.

  He blinked and his brain overrode the strange images his eyes insisted on. Honi couldn’t remember turning the lights off, but he must have fallen asleep at some point. His shirt had ridden up and his jeans were twisted on his body. His skin felt clammy and cold when he tried to sit up. It wasn’t like him to pass out like this, especially since he had slept late this morning.

  Shaking his head, he moved towards the little sink in his room. He ran some cold water over his hands, then took off his shirt and dampened a small towel to wipe his neck and armpits. His eyes stared back at him from the mirror above the sink, and Honi felt a small shudder when he saw his own spirit animal standing next to him, looking both fearful and angry with him.

  There was only one other time his wolf had looked like this, with its neck hair standing up and its lips pulled back from its fearsome teeth. When Honi had done his spirit quest as a young boy, the wolf had appeared for the first time and saved his life.

  “What’s up, Ho’neo?” he asked the animal. The wolf didn’t answer. No surprise there. He didn’t talk but sent dreams if he felt Honi was being stupid. Honi sighed. It might not happen tonight, but Ho’neo always delivered. And the way his blue eyes steadily bored into his human friend’s promised a doozy.

 

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