The Witch's Market (25 page)

“Just as I thought,” he said. “You send me away, then get yourself into trouble.”

He was right, but hearing his voice made me realize that I preferred my kind of trouble to a life with him.

I sighed, realizing the call had been a mistake. “Ivan, I'm okay, really. Maybe we'll see each other when I get back. Not for a while, though. Don't worry about me, I'm fine. I hope you're okay too.

“All right, Eileen, be safe. And think about me sometimes. If you need help, let me know.”

And that ended our conversation. For a moment I wondered if I had done the wrong thing in leaving him to take this bizarre trip.

Like Brenda said, “Don't waste a good catch, ever! Especially the big fish that has already swum inside your net.”

But this just reminded me that there are many fish in the sea.

32

Digging Up Mud and Dirt

W
hile I felt some comfort hearing Brenda's and Ivan's familiar voices, neither showed any understanding of my present turmoil. Nor was anyone helpful. Alfredo hadn't told me anything that clarified Isabelle's death. Grandpa's newspaper clipping only hinted at the solution, and Luis's disappearance was one more mystery. I wasn't getting any answers from the humans I knew, so it was time to consult the spirits again, though not without some misgivings.

While I didn't really believe the dire warning that channeling could shorten my life, it was hard not to feel nervous about it. And the atmosphere of the dim temple, the acrid incense, and the blindfold were pretty spooky, even though I was there to contact spooks. Which, according to Laolao, might hang around after I was done with them.

There were also stories about mediums going crazy. I didn't think I was crazy, but my months on the island had left me pretty confused. After mulling it over, I decided to go ahead, or otherwise I'd be haunted forever by the unsolved mystery of Isabelle's death.

During the ferry ride to Grand Canary I tried to relax by watching the waves. Once there, I got a taxi and was soon at the Luminous Spirit Temple. This time there was no crowd, only a few elderly Chinese people offering incense and muttering prayers in front of the altar. At first I was afraid Uncle Wang wasn't there, but then I spotted him seated at a table in back, writing with a brush.

He seemed to be surprised but pleased to see me. “Señorita Eileen Chen, what brings you here? Come and sit with me.”

I got straight to the point. “Uncle Wang, I need to try ghost writing again.”

“But we don't have a session today. You must need urgent advice?”

I nodded.

“Hmmm . . . in that case, we'll do a special session. However, the master of recitation and the scribe are not here. So I'll have to represent them both.”

“Will this work?”

“Of course, I've done it hundreds of times.”

“Thank you so much, Uncle Wang. You are very kind.”

Since he was going to do me this special favor, I needed to pay him discreetly. I went to the counter to buy the biggest size bundle of incense, lit it, and placed it in the bronze burner. Under his watchful eye I also stuffed a wad of cash into the donation box.

When I went back to Uncle Wang, he asked, “You know, talking with the dead is no small matter. In fact, it is a very grave matter. Are you sure you're mentally prepared?”

I nodded.

“Good. Meditate now to cleanse your mind.” He pointed to a corner. “Kneel down on the cushion and empty your head. I'll go to prepare things and ‘open' the altar. When it's ready I'll tell you.”

I did what I was told and tried to empty my mind until Uncle Wang's voice roused me. On the altar he had prepared the wooden tray filled with sand. The forked wand lay beside it. I noticed several people watching while trying to seem unobtrusive. Uncle Wang held his hand up to his mouth, signaling them to be quiet.

Next Uncle Wang gently wrapped the red blindfold around my eyes so I would not be distracted by anything in this world.

After that he said, his tone very serious and respectful, “Now invite silently the loved one, god, goddess, immortal, or whomever you choose, to come to the altar. Don't try to write in the sand yourself, but let the spirit do it.”

I nodded and picked up the wand, mentally inviting Isabelle to come. I patiently waited but didn't feel any presence. Then after what seemed an interminable wait, I felt something. Not Isabelle, but someone else. I didn't know who this being was, but I could tell it was female.

 

 

Then I was jolted back to the
yang
realm. Wang immediately untied the red cloth from around my eyes. I was dizzy and nauseous, so Uncle Wang had to help me to a chair. He and the few other temple visitors studied me curiously, as if I'd just returned from a hair-raising meeting with the King of Hell.

“You all right?” Wang asked with concern.

“I guess I'm . . . fine.”

“But you're pale and even trembling. Now come sit in my office and have some hot tea.”

Once settled in his small office, Uncle Wang poured me tea and handed me an almond cake. “Señorita Chen, you don't look well. Your face is paler than a ghost's.”

“I almost saw one.”

“I see them all the time. You need not be frightened of ghosts. They're more scared of you.”

I wasn't so sure about that last statement, as I was pretty scared myself.

“So, have you also seen
her?
” I asked.

“Yes, I saw the one who just appeared to you.”

I almost choked on my tea. “Did you really? What did she look like?”

“I just felt her presence, couldn't see her face clearly. She was haughty! Above everybody and everything—including the law. I think I knew this woman. She died in an accident. She comes back because she is still bitter. Miserable
qi.
”

“Did she also see you?”

“Of course not.”

“Why not?”

“You're the one she came for, not me. I didn't hear any words, just a loud buzz.”

“Were you afraid when you saw her?”

He laughed. “At my age, what do I have left to do? I don't need to plan for the future, so I do whatever I want. If she wants to take me with her to the other side, she can be my guest. I'll soon join her anyway. I'm prepared.”

“How do you prepare?”

“Señorita Chen, you're too young to understand. If you really want to know, come back in fifty years.”

But then he wouldn't be here anymore. Unless like Laolao and Isabelle, he would come to me in my dreams. Perhaps he would. Though I'd only met Wang twice, I felt a great affection for him, perhaps a karmic link.

He handed me a sheet of paper covered in Chinese characters. “This is what I copied from your sand writing. I think it has the answers you've been seeking.”

After I took the papers, he added, “Don't look at them now, when you're still agitated. Wait until you have meditated and stilled your mind.

I thanked him profusely.

“May I ask if you had some unpleasant experiences lately?”

I debated telling him about recent events. He was, after all, an old man and shouldn't be troubled by the dirty and bloody affairs of this world.

When the word
dirty
entered my mind, I involuntarily gasped.

Uncle Wang looked at me with concern. “Are you all right, Señorita Chen?”

I took several breaths, trying to calm myself. “I'm . . . okay, don't worry.”

Should I tell him I'd just had a realization—was the “dirt” buried with Penelope's body twenty years ago the fact that she had murdered Isabelle?

But I kept my mouth shut.

“I will give you some advice,” he said.

“I welcome any advice you can give me, Uncle Wang.”

“Good. You can come back for a chat with me anytime. But don't come back for another channeling.” He stared at me to see my response.

“But why not?”

“Most cross the boundary between the realms of life and death but twice—at birth and at death. To do so more will severely damage your body and mind, or take years off your earthly life. You are young; enjoy the life of this world and forget the next for now.

“Señorita Chen, you're a brave woman to come to this remote island by yourself. I know you seek truth with great determination and stubbornness. But even the strong have weak moments. The evil wait for these moments to drag you down.

“Let me tell you a true story. Many years ago there was a man—let's call him Señor Ho—who claimed to possess the
yin
eye and boasted about the spirits he saw. No one knew if he made it all up or if he really did see those unclean things. He fell sick, but one day, feeling better, he went to see his friend.

“He got into a taxi and saw a puny man sitting in front next to the driver. He thought to ask the driver to let off the other passenger, but decided against it because the driver was speeding and looked ferocious. Señor Ho feared that the man was the driver's friend, and that if he complained, the driver might spite him by speeding even more and endangering everyone's lives.

“When the taxi pulled to a stop at Ho's destination, he finally chided the driver, telling him it's against the law to take another passenger when he was the one who paid.

“The driver looked completely shocked. ‘Señor, what are you talking about? There's only you and I in the car! You're the only customer—of course you pay the whole amount!

“Then Ho realized something terrifying: The extra passenger was not a human. Though the driver didn't have the
yin
eye to see it, he was nevertheless affected by the creature—who had caused his crazy, reckless driving. Ho didn't go meet his friend, but turned back to go home—this time by bus, because the other people would provide protective
yang qi.

“Once home, Ho immediately knelt in front of Zhong Kui, the Chinese ghost queller. Ho burned incense and made offerings of tea, wine, and food. Then he muttered a prayer, asking for the invincible hero's protection.”

“What happened to Señor Ho? Did he die of fright?”

“Ho was fine, but he was extra careful to avoid getting sick. When one is healthy, one possesses abundant
yang
energy, so the spirits can't cause trouble, because they are
yin.
They'll pick another victim, a sick and weak one.”

When finished, Uncle Wang asked, “Señorita Chen, you understand why I told you this story?”

I shook my head.

He continued. “Because you don't look very well, my friend. I'm sure you're not sick like the man I told you about. But you've had many spirit visits lately and, even though you are young and strong, you cannot help but absorb some of their
yin
energy.”

“But the spirits have told me about important matters—they wanted my help.”

“Sometimes knowing too much is not a good thing, even for a professor. Save your help for the living. You understand?”

I thought I did, so this time I nodded.

As soon as I was by myself back in my hotel room, I said out loud, “It was Penelope all along! She killed Isabelle, not Alfredo.” I struggled to rearrange my thoughts, having been thinking that maybe it was Alfredo.

Suddenly everything seemed to fall into place. In the temple I'd invited Isabelle to come to me, but it was not her presence that I felt. Penelope must have pushed Isabelle aside so she could approach me instead. She'd tried to shut Isabelle out of her husband's life, and now she was trying to shut her out of mine as well, by pushing her back to the underworld. A heartless woman, both in this world and the next.

Given that Penelope had committed this terrible crime, her motive remained obscure to me. If it was jealousy, why hadn't she killed Sabrina instead? Perhaps she felt the younger woman would become a greater threat. And what about her own death—was it an accident, suicide, or murder?

I could go back to try to channel her again. But there was Uncle Wang's warning and I sensed he was right. As I stared at the blank wall of my little room, I realized that gratifying my curiosity was not worth another visit from the other world. I wanted to be done with the dead and go back to living my own life. Maybe the dead really are bitter, but I'd done as much as I could to solve their problems.

And even if I channeled again, how could I tell what was the truth? Ghosts were once human and probably as likely to lie. And what about if the three parties involved—Penelope, Isabelle, and Sabrina—all came to the altar at once and had a big quarrel? How do you settle an argument between ghosts? Would they kill each other in front of me and die all over again?