Ladle Rat Rotten Hut (5 page)

“Don’t
make fun of my egg … timer,” He said. “And Bella, if we don’t wake up in thirty
minutes fowhatever reason, you’ll have to smash one of the mirrors to break the
connection with the Dreamworld.”

“Ok.”
Bella said.

“But
you have to do it without entering the Dream Temple, or you’ll be sucked into
the dream, and I can barely take care of one girl. Ok?”

Bella
nodded.

“Ready,
Alice?” He tilted his head toward me as we lay on our backs with the corpse
between us.

“How do
you know my name?”

“It’s
written in your beautiful eyes—”

“What?”

“On
your necklace, I mean. Should we hold hands?” He stretched out his left hand.

“Is
that necessarily?”

“I am
afraid so. It’s the ritual's rules. In the past, we had to prick our fingers
and kiss first, but they changed that and moved it to wedding ceremonies.”

“I
can’t believe I am doing this.” I said as I stretched my hand. I lied again. I
just needed Loki to help me locate Cinderella in the Dreamworld without him
knowing.

“Yeah.
That’s what girls always say in the beginning too.” He grabbed my hand firmly
without hesitation. I liked it, but I didn't tell him.

Loki
looked at the corpse irritatingly. “Thank God, we’re not really sleeping
together, or this would have been a deadly
Ménage à trois
.”

“I
swear if you don’t behave, I’ll kick your ass.”

“Better
wait until we’re in the Dreamworld. Killing immortals in the Dreamworld is
really fun. Just like in video games,” He said. “By the way, the fact that you
could kick my ass is the first thing that makes me want to know you better.
Keep up the good work. I might like you after all.” Even though his arrogance
was unbearable, he smiled genuinely at me for the first time. “And now, I need
a word that if I whisper into the corpse’s ears, it will remind her of where
you want to go into her dream. It’s called an Incubator: a word that will
trigger a certain memory in the dreamer’s mind.”

“Interesting,”
I mused. “So we can actually get into a past memory of hers?”

“A bit
of both. A memory and dream,” He said. “So what’s the word?”

I
thought for a second, arguing with myself if I wanted to tell him that the word
was
Cinderella
. This was who I was looking for. But no. That would be
leading the corpse to what I wanted to know. Besides, this corpse wasn’t
Cinderella. This corpse, if she was who I thought she was, could only tell us
about the whereabouts of the real Cinderella who had been cursed and buried in a
dream since long ago. It was my job to find her and help her.

My
ancestors gave me that job me, to find the characters we thought were only
fairy tales and to remind them of who they really were before it got out of
hand. We had only one chance to find them once every hundred years, starting
from 1812, when my grand grand father wrote the tales.

“Murano.”
I said. “Murano is the word.”

“Isn’t
that an island near Venice?” he asked. “The one famous for manufacturing glass?
They had the best glassblowers in the world, right?”

“So
you’re not an airhead, huh.” I said.

Loki
laughed. He had a magnificent laugh, one that I’d like to see and listen to in
my dreams.

“Hey
Bella,” he said. “Are you ready?”

Bella
nodded impatiently. I suddenly got the feeling that she envied me, that she
wanted to be with Loki in the grave.

“If the
corpse snores while we are in her dream, shoot it.” Loki said. "I can’t
stand snoring humans, dead or alive."

Bella
stuck out her tongue at him. “What if
you
snore?”

“Easy.
Shoot it.”

Bella
laughed.

“It’s
time for you to use the magic dust on us,” Loki said, “And by the way, did
Edward and Jacob ever make out in that movie? Because I’ve been waiting for
this to happen all the time.”

Then I
went to sleep, entering an immortal’s dream, looking for the real Cinderella.

***

Time
feels so real and present in here.

Entering
the Dreamworld of an immortal seems too easy, I think. I just woke up,
coughing, and lying on my back in what looks like an abandoned house. I smell
cinder everywhere, as if someone is burning something nearby.

“Shhh,”
Loki grips my hand, looking around suspiciously. “Rule number one in an
immortal’s dream: Look for a killing weapon.” He whispers.

“I
smell cinder,” I say, freeing myself from his grip. “Pick yourself some.” I
stand up, and walk out of that abandoned building.

“And do
what? Swallow it and puff out fire like a dragon?” He says as he follows me
outside. “Hey you … uhm … what was your name again?”

“My
name is Alice!” I shout over my shoulder. I can’t believe how rude he is. He
called me by my name in the real world.

As I
step outside, a broad smile sweeps over my face. I guess the Incubator word
worked just fine. This is exactly where I want to be in the witch’s dream: Venice, Italy, hundreds of years ago.

“No
freakin’ wonderland,” Loki bursts out after me. “Alice.”

Even
though I know I need to find the witch and complete my mission, this boy really
gets on my nerves so I turn around and face him, gritting my teeth and clawing
my fists. I think his rudeness in the real world is different from the
Dreamworld. There, it was arrogance. Here, his is trying to cover the fact that
he is scared.

“You’re
the last person on earth to make fun of names, LOKI!” I spit accidentally on
his face. I didn’t mean to. “What kind of name is that? How can you even live
with it?"

“Wow,”
He rolls his eyes – those beautiful green eyes. So distracting. I have to get
him to wear shades in this glaring sunlight or something. “I didn’t know my
name turns you on that much.” Unapologetically, he pulls me closer again with
one hand. It’s a rough pull, but my body closes in toward him in a theatrical
way, as if this is a rehearsed move in a Tango dance. I find myself putting my
hands on his shoulder. He wraps his other hand around my waist and throws a
most-devilish smile at me. Why does he have to be so attractive? I don’t need
this. I am on a mission.

“Wanna
make out?” He blurts, titling his head seductively to one side and gazing at me
from the corner of his eyes. His gaze is different from other boys I’ve met.
His gaze wanders from my eyes to my chin then to my lips in a triangular gaze
repeatedly, as if he is afraid to miss a part of my features. Then he pulls me
even closer and whispers in my ear, “Make-outs in the Dreamworld don’t show up
in your real world resume. Making out in a dream is almost the perfect crime.”

As much
as a jerk he is, there is this sound in his voice, this tingle in his touch,
and that warmth in his palms that makes me trust him.

“You
can’t be serious, right?” I can’t tell him he is a jerk again since I have seen
how he has an instant comeback for that.

“Stay
put,” he whispers in my ears, hugging me in the middle of the street in ancient
Venice. What a perfect romantic place, even in a dream -- but maybe with the
wrong boy. “Pull me closer to you. Act as if you can’t live without me one
second of your life.” He whispers – Ok. Now this is lame.

“You
wish—“

“Just
do it.” His voice changes into firmer tone.

That’s
when I get what’s going on.

I hug
him back, looking at the pedestrians eyeing us everywhere. They are walking
past us in their centuries-old outfits. Instead of being dazzled by the beauty
of old Venice, they all stare at us.

“What’s
going on?” I ask Loki.

“We
have to act weird and outrageous as possible,” He whispers back. “We came into
the Dreamworld with our jeans and tee shirts form the 21
^st
century.
They can simply tell we don’t belong here unless we act like total loons,
kissing and making out in public, which will explain why we look so different.
They have to think that we are weirdoes, and that what we wear is some kind of
an occult costume.”

“I am
not going to make out with you in public.”

“That’s
what I thought,” He pulls my hand, and we walk cautiously through the crowd,
looking for a place to hide. We could hide in one of those abandoned buildings
on the right. “You look like a homey girl to me,” He adds. “Every dream has
those characters who for some wicked reason might know you’re an intruder.”

“At
least that means we’re sure the witch is an immortal.”

“That’s
true.”

We hide
in one of those buildings after he sharpens a piece of wood into a stake.

“She is
not a vampire.” I protest.

“I
know, but stakes always work, even with ex-girlfriends. I don’t have time to
explain to you how the Dreamworld works.”

“And
we’re not here to kill her.” I add.

“That
doesn’t mean she wouldn’t love to kill us,” He says. “So what is this place?
Where are we?”

“We’re
in Venice, around 1291, in the witch’s dream.”

“And
what is your mission here? We only have very little time for me to help you
accomplish what you want from the dream.”

“I need
to find the witch and save her.”

“Save
her? I usually get into immortal’s dreams to kill them.”

“This
one is different. Can’t you see she is already dead in the real world. This one
has one last mission in the Dreamworld to accomplish. We have to help her
finish what she was meant to do.”

“I am
not going to ask what that is. So how are we going to find her?”

“That
shouldn’t be hard,” I say, pointing out at the streets through a huge crack in
the wall. The water outside the abandoned building runs like streets with boats
sailing through it. “Look at all those glassblowers everywhere.”

Loki
peeks outside, and I imagine that he sees the endless numbers of glassblowers
scattered in the streets, men and women with an exquisite fine art, making and
selling the finest glass in the world.

“As
much I would like to appreciate the wonderful art. Why is that of importance?”
He asks.

“At
this time in history, Venice had the best glassblowers in the world. It was a
new art with new secrets that almost only the people of Venice knew about,” I
explain as my eyes look for the witch. “But if you look closer, you’ll see how
all the glassblowers use enormous amounts of fire to do that. Fire is needed to
melt the sand they use into shaping the glass.”

“I was
going to comment on that heat fuming out of the walls everywhere in such a
water-splashy city,” Loki points out. “And speaking of walls, the houses are
built of wood. Such amounts of fire will burn down the city eventually.”

As Loki
says that, we see a sudden fire eating up a house on its second floor. A woman
jumps out of the balcony down into the water while she is holding glassblowing
instruments in her hands. “Speaking of the devil—I mean the glass.” Loki raises
an eyebrow.

“That’s
exactly why we are here.”

“You
mean why
you
are here. I am just the Dreamhunter, like the guy who
stamps your ticket in the movie theatre and makes sure you get in and out
safely.”

“Anyway,”
I sigh as the locals run to put down the fire. “This is a historical day in Venice, because within minutes, the local authorities will start to transport all
glassblowers out of this city to an island nearby that is called Murano.”

“Why?”

“In the
books of history, they will tell you that it’s because of incidents like the
one you have seen of the house accidentally burning because of the glassblower
woman. The many glassblowers in the city were threatening the city to burn down
eventually. Even though it was an original art, the using of fire was too
dangerous.  Murano is an island near Venice where they could blow glass and
make fire all they want.”

“A
smart move.”

“Except
that this not the real reason. The truth is it’s because of a woman called
Bianca.”

“I
assume Bianca the
Kentucky-fried-witchen
we just entered her dream.”

“That’s
right,” I say. “You’re actually two inches smarter than most of the boys I
met.”

“Two
inches?” Loki raises an eyebrow then stares down at his crotch.

“You’re
unbelievable.” I want to hit someone.

“Thank
you,” He smirks. “Believable is so boring.”

“Didn’t
anyone tell you that you have boy’s looks but a two-year-old girl’s brains?”

“Are
you a sexist or something?” He raises a single eyebrow. “Besides, I’ve always
wanted to be a girl.”

“Wow,”
I take a step back and fold my arms in front of me. I can’t believe we’re
having this conversation while a building is on fire behind me. “I didn’t
expect that.”