19. weird, world.
Don Julian has welcomed me to the island. Partly because I have made it clear that I believe his claims, and partly because he is so starved for companionship. While not impossibly far from the city, this place has a forlorn and desolate air about it-a sense that it is remote in a spiritual if not physical way. There is much sadness here. It has permeated the very swamp. The trees grow crookedly, and in a fit of fancy I half imagine it is the work of loneliness and lost souls rather than a strong wind or a natural flaw in the wood.
From afar, it seems there is trash covering the island. It is not until the boat glides closer that the details become obvious: it is not trash hanging from the branches and scattered across the moss, but dolls. Hundreds-thousands-of them. Plastic, porcelain, cloth, wood, many now missing limbs or clothes or even eyes. It is a macabre and unsettling sight, but Julian’s hesitant smile holds no threat. This is not some profane shrine built by a madman, but rather a very poor and sad man’s attempts to be kind to forces beyond his full reckoning. Julian apologizes frequently for the state of disrepair so many of the dolls have fallen into, explaining that he hasn’t the time nor money to replace or restore them, and that he fears removing even damaged dolls will upset the girl.
I have brought two dolls with me, as per Julian’s instructions, and will use them in the séance in an attempt to connect to this girl. One was Patricia’s favorite; I am hoping that the emotional connection will facilitate the conversation.
“Starting to think I should limit your time with that thing,” Charlie said, leaning against the windowsill. “You’re like an addict, the way you obsessively pour over it. Rob? Robin?”
He jumped as if electrified when her hand slammed down over the page he was reading. “Jesus! What?”
“I’m going to take this and I’m going to sit on it if you won’t listen to me when I’m talking to you,” she warned. “Understood?”
“I’m sorry, Red. It just… Pulls at me. The same way my visions do. It’s like an itch you just have to scratch.” He glanced around the room as if seeing it for the first time. “Al and Annie not back yet?”
“No. I’m giving it another thirty minutes before I do something drastic.”
“Like what?”
“I dunno. Walk into the nearest bar and demand to see the Godfather. If he’s such a big deal here, somebody’s gotta know how to find him. And your sister’s still asleep-think we should start worrying?”
Robbie glanced at the closed door that lead to the other room. “She’s been afraid for so long, wound up until she almost snapped. And she’s just lost her father.”
“So did you.”
“No. I didn’t lose anything. You can’t lose something you’ve never had.” He sighed and rubbed at his temple. “You know how exhausting gifts can be, how much they take from you.”
“Yeah, I do,” she agreed vehemently. “Energy, and time-and in Harry’s case, sometimes your whole life.”
“At least mine is something that comes and goes, and I’ve learned how to control it a little. Anticipate when it will strike. For Akiko… I can’t imagine having to live with it every moment. Having to hold up barriers every waking hour and being mindful of what you touch and how close you get to someone.”
“…You have a point. When you consider everything…”
“She’s in pain and she’s terrified. And you’re not the sweetest peach sometimes either, you know. Give her more time and the benefit of the doubt.”
“Okay.” Charlie paced across the room and leaned against the windowsill again. A car honked on the street below and a loud, staccato argument began, the voices carrying easily on the wind and filling the room. She grimaced with a squint and contemplated slamming the window closed, then thought better of it. In this heat, it was better to have a little air flow, even if it was noisy air flow. “…I’m hungry,” she announced a moment later. “I’m going out and getting a bite. Be back in a few.”
He didn’t bother to tell her to be careful; she could handle herself, and it wouldn’t do any good anyway. Several minutes ticked past, and he sat with his back against the wall, the journal lying in his lap and fingers absentmindedly rubbing the leather edges of the cover. Even with the clamor outside, he heard the click of the door as it opened.
“Waited until the coast was clear, huh?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied with bald honesty. “Your girlfriend has a very hot aura-right now, it’s too overpowering.”
“And I’m not too loud or hot?”
“Not usually.” Akiko pulled out a second chair and sat down, keeping her limbs tucked in tightly as if trying to minimize her contact with the world. “Yours is a lot steadier and even. She’s like a tsunami and you’re ripples in a pond. If that makes sense?”
“It does. What’re Alberto and Annie like?”
“He’s like you, much more controlled. He only projects when he wants to, otherwise it’s all tightly lidded. And she’s like Charlie, very messy. Very open.” She rubbed at her temple, brushing back her loose hair. “I’m sorry if I’m being antisocial. But in a city this large, it’s harder to block things out.”
“I understand. When I’m in the grip of a vision, it’s difficult to discern what’s real and what’s only in my head. It’s hard to breathe, hard to think properly, and afterwards I feel like I’ve run a marathon.”
“Sounds awful.”
“It can be. …If you ever need anything, Akiko, doesn’t hesitate to speak up.”
She pulled her legs up, curling her feet over the edge of the chair and tucking her knees beneath her chin. Wrapped her arms around them and stared at him thoughtfully. “You surprise me. Consistently.”
He closed the journal and set it aside. “How so?”
“When I imagined you, I never thought you’d be kind. Why are you so nice to me?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because I’m a stranger. An interloper. An albatross hanging around your neck.”
“I’m only cruel to people who have done something to inspire cruelty from me. I… I understand what it is to feel alone and frightened and out of your depth. Since the accident that sparked my abilities and killed my cousin, I’ve… I guess you could say I’ve found a calling. It may not be a proper career, but it’s the only way I can live and still look at myself in the mirror. So don’t think of yourself as a terrible burden-if you hadn’t come along, I’d still be striding head-first into danger, somewhere else on someone else’s behalf.”
She regarded him thoughtfully. “…At least let me make you a deal. For my conscience’s sake.”
“Alright. What are the terms?”
“Should there come a moment when I tell you, with absolute certainty, to go-you will. No arguing, no hesitation. You’ll turn around and walk away. And if there’s ever anything you want to know-about our father, about my life, whatever-you only have to ask and I’ll answer truthfully.”
Even with only a handful of days’ worth of acquaintance, Robbie appreciated the full weight of what she said. Akiko was like him in that she valued her privacy; she was not one to make light and idle chit-chat about personal affairs. She would never open her heart or past to anyone she did not fully and deeply trust. Essentially, she was offering him a skeleton key for the locks in the walls she’d built around herself in self-preservation. She was giving him her word, and that came with no small amount of power over her.
So he nodded soberly. “Alright. Deal. And you have to stop apologizing. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
There was a chirrup of police sirens outside; someone had arrived to finally sort out the mess on the street below, and the arguing voices promptly shifted into the wheedling tones of men trying to plead their case.
“…I do have a question for you.”
She straightened in her chair. “Yes?”
“When he was with your mother-when you were all together-was he happy?”
She blinked, mouth falling open in her surprise, but then she swallowed loudly and nodded. “Usually. Dad wasn’t the type to be satisfied with anything for long. He used to blame his itchy feet-said he’d never be comfortable stuck in one spot forever.”
“That’s one thing, at least,” he said softly. “That I can understand…”
*****
“Man, I just need to come to Mexico for everything from now on,” Charlie grinned, slapping her new passport-still hot from the press-against her thigh. “In and out, no lines, no muss, no fuss.”
“Where’d you come up with Savannah Rogers?” Annie asked.
“Always liked the name Savannah-used to joke with Liv that I’d use Savannah Georgia as my stripper name. And Roger was the first mechanic who taught me the ropes, back when I was fifteen. Paid me under the table until he could legally hire me. I think it suits me.”
“I could see you as a Savannah,” Alberto agreed. “Something about it just feels loud and brash.”
“You’re such a charmer, Al,” Charlie said, sticking her tongue out at him as she slung an arm over his shoulders. “Or I guess I should say Rodrigo Velasquez.”
Annie flipped open her passport and sighed. “I can’t take a nice posed photo to save my life. Even when it’s for a fake document. I look like I’m constipated with this smile.”
“You’re just in character,” Robbie said. “That’s the sort of smile a Mary Singing Dove would make. And at least yours is better than mine-I look like I’m a serial killer with my hair like this. And the name Jeremy Brent Bitner even sounds like a serial killer.”
Akiko tucked her newest passport-emblazoned in gold with the name Suki Shizumi-into her bag, careful to slip it into a separate pocket. “Okay, so we’ve got a couple names and faces to watch out for and new passports. What next?”
“Leaving town would be high on my list of priorities,” Alberto said earnestly.
“Joseph said the book was more a map-that it would lead us to something the Order wanted,” Robbie said. “So we go where it takes us, find whatever’s hidden, and then we destroy whatever it is.”
“Sounds like a brilliant course of action,” said Charlie, smacking her fist into her palm. “Gives us something concrete to aim for rather than pointlessly wandering around hoping we’re not picked up by shadowy men in hoods or something. Where’s the compass needle pointing to first, babe?”
“La Isla de las Muñecas.”
“Island of the-”
“Island of the Dolls,” Alberto and Annie said in unison.
“Is that a… literal name?”
“My cousin Marisol’s told me stories about the place,” Alberto continued. “She went there a couple years back with some friends on a dare. People leave dolls there to appease restless ghosts-they hang them from trees, tie them to the shack on the island. It’s supposed to be unsettling, at best.”
“Ah, fuck. Why can’t some mysterious artifact be hidden at the Island of the Gumdrops or something…”