A voice cried out in the darkness, “Mi! Take the babies and run! You've gotta get out while you still can!”
My eyes opened, and I saw a man. He looked like a pale, blonde version of myself, and it felt like I should know him. Behind him stood a Chinese woman, her black hair cut short and curled. Through the bars (Bars? Why am I behind bars?) I could see a room with grey striped wallpaper, and there was orange light flickering through the doorway. The man walked over to me and leaned over to pick me up (Must be a crib.); he crooned soothing nonsense in my ear as he rested me comfortably on his hip. The Chinese woman held a small crying bundle close while she wrapped a long scarf around herself to hold it in place.
“You know what to do, Mi,” the man's voice rumbled beside me. “You're not of the bloodline, so you should be able to escape. Gram got away the first time, so hopefully she can too.” The man held me tighter for a few seconds, then kissed my brow. “Grow up safe, my darling Isabella. When the time comes, you'll know what to do.”
I woke with a start, still trembling from the fear that always grips me when I have that particular nightmare. Nothing about it has ever varied, and I've always wondered whether it's truly just a dream or perhaps an early memory.
My name is Isabella. I was adopted as a toddler by an older couple who had never been able to have a child of their own. Mom and Dad told me as soon as I was able to understand that I wasn't their biological child, though it was pretty obvious from my appearance that I couldn't belong to them. Mom looks a bit like a porcelain doll with her pink-pale skin and gorgeous red ringlets, and Dad has the sandy hair and perpetual tan of a beach bum. I, on the other hand, have skin the color of milk chocolate with jet black hair.
There is one thing I've gotten from my parents: they taught me witchcraft from a young age, believing that having something that important in common with them would help me feel more like I belonged.
I've had a happy childhood here. When I begged for a puppy, they obliged and insisted that I be the one to care for her, especially after the newness of Lola had worn off. They shipped me off to Dribbledine Academy when I believed with all my heart that I wanted to be a sports superstar, then convinced me to stick it out when I called home, crying that all the sports were just too darn hard. “Nothing worth doing is going to be easy, sweetheart,” my mother told me. “If you just quit now, when it starts getting a little difficult, how will you learn to handle yourself when life gets really hard?” So, I stuck it out and graduated last week. This is where things started to go haywire.
As the taxi pulled up in front of my parents' house, I could see them on the front porch talking with someone I didn't know. From the street, all I could tell was that she had short black hair and her clothes had a foreign cut. As I got closer, I thought she looked Chinese. Time seemed to stand still as she slowly turned towards me. My breath caught in my throat when I saw the recognition in her eyes, and then she spoke: “Ah, here she is now. We would like to speak to her alone, if we could.”
My throat began working again, and my eyes locked on hers as I croaked out, “Mi?”
I thought I saw the hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth as she replied, “Yes, you.” She looked to my parents, and it felt as if my eyes were dragged along with hers. My parents were beyond pale, hands clasping each other's as if that was all that held them in place. “May we? No harm will come to her, we promise.” My father nodded his head once, sharply, then turned and led Mom back into the house. When the door clicked shut, she spoke without turning to look at me, “No one has called us Mi in a very long time, child. Where did you hear that?”
She turned to look at me when I didn't answer after a moment. Her face was softer now, and I could see the beginnings of tears at the corners of her eyes. “It's a dream I've had since I was small. You were in it, and a man that looks a lot like me. It... it's not really a dream, is it?”
Her head shook slowly as she took a step towards me. “No, child. We have nightmares of that night, too. Our proper name is Mihuo Zhi Medley, and we were something of an aunt to you when you were a baby. Not related by blood, perhaps, but the bonds of love tied us to your family.” She smiled brightly for a moment. “Your father taught us to talk, in fact.”
Something about her speech tugged at the edges of my mind. “Why do you keep saying 'we?' Is there someone else here?”
“Just me, myself and I, little one. We have always spoken this way, and there are always those who call us insane for it. And perhaps you will think us insane when we finish speaking here. There is a very long story you must hear, and then you must make a difficult decision regarding the rest of your life, and the lives of your descendants.”
We sat in the rocking chairs on the front porch, and Mihuo told me about the Immortal Dynasty that my great-great-great-grandmother had started so long ago, how my great-grandmother had escaped from Appaloosa Plains when everything went so very wrong. She told me about my more immediate family in Starlight Shores, and how a wandering gypsy caravan had ruined everything there. I was only a toddler, and there was some kind of loophole in the contract that allows the youngest member of the bloodline to escape in the case of catastrophic failure. Unlike Fiona, though, I couldn't make the run myself. I needed someone to help me, and that someone had been Mihuo.
When she finished speaking, we both sat and rocked for some time, giving me some much-needed room to think. “So, what does all this really mean? Is there something I need to do?”
Mihuo dropped her gaze to her lap, then answered, “In theory, it means that you have a limited time until the Grim Reaper comes to seize you to join the rest of your doomed bloodline. Once a contract has been started, all descendants must work to complete it until the line is ended or the contract is finished. In practice, it means that you must leave here, buy an empty lot in a town your family has never been to before, and complete a set of challenges before you die. You will then be immortal so long as you continue to eat the food of the gods. Your descendants must also complete these requirements until eight immortals live in the same house. Only then will the curse on your blood be lifted. The contract states that any failed immortals will be trapped in the Netherworld for eternity, though Fiona seemed convinced that there was a way around this part. Perhaps you will find something in her notes that will point you in the right direction.”
I stared off into the distance for several moments, then sighed, “I thought you said there was a decision to make. It doesn't sound like there's much of a choice here.”
“You've always got a choice, child. You can choose to die young and doom your entire family to an eternity in the Netherworld, or you can choose to continue this dynasty and perhaps save the souls of your ancestors from oblivion. It's not a good choice, perhaps, but the choice is there.”
“Let me just say goodbye to my folks, then. Where, exactly, are we going?”
Mihuo looked uncomfortable. “ 'We' aren't going anywhere. You may go anywhere you wish besides Appaloosa Plains and Starlight Shores. And here, of course. We will be returning to our family in Shang Simla. We're not allowed to help you any more than this, we're afraid. And, sadly, neither is the watcher called 'Raven.' She used the last of her leeway in getting you safely away from Starlight Shores.”
I entered my childhood home for the last time and told my parents what little I could of the circumstances. I knew in my heart that the things Mihuo had told me were the truth, but my parents would never let me go if they knew just how little I knew about what was happening. There were hugs and tears, and eventually Dad called a taxi for me.
While I waited for my cab, the four of us stood silently on the front porch. Dad held Mom, who tried unsuccessfully to stem the flow of tears, and Mihuo stood behind me as I stared toward the street. The cab arrived, and I hugged Mom and Dad one last time. I left without saying goodbye, because I couldn't trust my voice. The cabbie loaded my lone suitcase into the trunk while I harnessed Lola into the back seat (all I was allowed to bring with me, per the dynasty contract), and when we were settled in the car, he asked me where I was headed.
“Lucky Palms,” I said.
