Ladle Rat Rotten Hut Page 4

  “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 21st 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.”

  “What? I always wanted to be a g
irl, so I could find myself some awesome guy like me.”

  “Wuteva,” I wave my hand in the air. “So the truth is that Bianca is not a witch. Not in the sense of the bad green witch on a broomstick.”

  “Who said that’s bad? I love the green Elphaba witch.”

  “I figured. Anyway, Bianca has a power that makes her the best glassblower in Venice.”

  “Don’t tell me she is the best blower in Venice.”

  I totally neglect his constant stupid sexual innuendos. “She can create fire at will with the power of her mind,” I look him straight in the eyes. “But she never used it in a bad way. It just allowed her to create infinite amounts of precious glass art without the usual cost of fire. But sometimes, she messes up and burns thing too.”

  As I am talking, the authorities enter the streets, arresting all glass blowers without reason.

  “Wow. What you said will happen is just starting. Are you a clairvoyant or something?” Loki wonders. “Why are they so aggressive with the glassblowers?”

  This time, I pull Loki behind me and cross the streets. “Come on. We have to find her and save her.”

  “Kick ass girl. I like that,” He comments as he follows me. “For your information, the fact that you’re still a kickass girl in the Dreamworld is the second thing that makes me want to know you. I might—“

  “—like me after all. I know.” I mumble as I pull him behind me, wondering why he’s become obedient all of a sudden.

  “How did you know I was going to say that?”

  Ignore comment. Period. “You see those marks smeared with cinder all over the walls? The ones that look like the palm of the hand?” I point out at the five-finger cinder-smeared shapes all over the walls of Venice.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s called Moutza,” I explain as we run through the fire that’s spreading all over. Masses of glassblowers resist the arrests and fight back, defending themselves against being accused of witchcraft. Shards of glass are scattered all over the ground. Such a waste of beautiful art.

  “And what’s a Moutza?”

  “It’s an ancient Greek sign, a traditional insult gesture which consists of extending all five fingers and presenting the palm toward the person you want to insult. It was used for accusing men and women of witchcraft in the past, where a chained witch was paraded around town. She would be sitting, facing backwards, on a horse or a calash, with her face smeared with Cinder to enhance their ridicule and repent from the sin of committing witchcraft. It was the ceremony that took place before the locals kill her to lift the curse off the town. The locals would raise their five-finger hands in the air at her as they protest against such an act, yelling Moutza Moutza. It’s a metaphor word instead of saying Ash to Ash and Cinder to Cinder.”

  “When did they change that? Wasn’t this called Ash to Ash and Dust to Dust?”

  “Do you see any dust here? Dust was for those buried in graves. Cinder is for those who burn. That’s where the word Cinderella originally came from.”

  “Wow. Wow.” He says. “Now don’t you dare to destroy my childhood memories here. I never heard such claims before.”

  I turn around and face him. “Didn’t you ever listen to the song; A Dream is a Wish your Heart Makes in the Cinderella movie?” I am afraid this would take long days and night for me to explain to Loki.

  “What?” It amazes me how an arrogant boy like Loki cares about fairy tales. I understand though. It’s so hard to convince anyone that the fairy tales were forged.

  “Listen to the words of the song,” I say. “A Dream? We’re in a Dreamworld right now. Heart? There is a heart that weighs 21 grams we all are searching for. True? We’re here in the Dreamworld, looking for the truth.” I know my words don’t make sense.

  Loki’s face eases. He holds me by the shoulder with two gentle hands then kills me softly, looking in my eyes. “Alice?” His voice is so tender that I wonder where that comes from. “I know you’ve been through a lot,” His words calm me down. “But please, please, please,” Loki is saying please? I am melting here. “Gimme some of that Lewis Carroll Hookah you’ve been smoking … “

  “What?” I feel like I am being hit in the head with a sponge hammer.

  “This is just a dream,” He shouts. “It’s not wonder-freakin-land.”

  I yank his hands away and turn around, walking toward my goal. It’s totally my fault trying to explain to him what is going. To be honest, sometimes I think that I am living a lie. But this is the truth. “What do you care anyway? You said you’re just a Dreamhunter, helping me.”

  “But that’s Cinderella we’re talking about. The Cinderella.” He says, following me again.

  “You’re a guy. Since when do boys care about Cinderella?”

  “I don’t really care about anyone. It’s just that you’re totally messing with my brain.”

  “I know.” I sighed, as this isn’t the first time I will have to persuade someone with the fact that my ancestors altered the tales. “Here she is,” I scream. “Bianca!” I summon her.

  The authorities pull Bianca from her hair, smear her with cinder and ashes, and drag her on the ground. Her hands are chained behind her back, and her hair looks like it has been on fire. They are pulling her to the carriage to humiliate her and kill her. The reason why she is chained is that she can’t trigger fire at will unless she raises her hands in the air and does the fiver-finger Moutza sign. If they release her, she would burn them all. Maybe burn Venice.

  “So all those Moutza signs were to address that she is a witch?”

  “Exactly,” I say, running toward her. “There is a boat. Look at it. They will send all the other glassblowers to Murano island forever as banishment. But they will have to kill and torture the witch, Bianca, in public first.”

  “But she is not a witch,” Loki finally sympathizes. “She only has some supernatural power and didn’t hurt anyone.”

  “We have to stop them, Loki,” I yell. “We have to get her on the boat to Murano. That’s my mission.”

  “Why?”

  “We just have to.”

  I kick one of the arresting authorities in the back, but he hits me as Bianca screams on the ground.

  “Who is she?” One of the authorities asks the other, pointing at the strange cloths I am wearing.

  “She is a witch too,” The other shouts and kicks me while I am on the floor. He flashes a cross at me as I am trying to reach for Bianca.

  “I am not a damn Vampire!” I yell, looking up at the smoke covering Venice.

  “A vamwaht?” The man estranges.

  “Don’t you dare repeat the foul words she utters, Constantine,” One of the authorities warns him. “You’d be reciting a devil’s spell, and God forbid what should happen to those who lost their way in the dark alleys of blasphemy.”

  I want to scream and pull my hair, not knowing which bothers me more, the clichéd speech of the devil or the fact that the other man’s name is Constantine.

  “And what about him?” Constantine asks his assistant about Loki. “Look at the way he is dressed. He must be a devil worshiper too. A malevolent wizard.”

  “But of course, I am,” Loki says as he punches him in his jaw. The man falls down silently. Wow. One hit in the jaw. “Hocus Pocus Zim Zalabim,” Loki can’t help it, talking to the unconscious man lying on the floor. “That’s what wizards in jeans do to guys who call themselves Constantine.”

  As I unchain Bianca, Loki gets into a fiercer fight with the other man. He bangs the man’s head against the carriage before the man falls semi-conscious to the floor. “You have just been Avada Kadavarad, Monsieur. I wish I brought a magic wand with me to this ignorance fest.”

  “Monsieur is French, you idiot.” I don’t know why I feel the need to make fun of him. I think his attitude has gotten to me. Maybe I am scared to fail in my mission.

  “Sorry,” Loki bows down to the man in the middle of the smoke. “I don’t speak Italian, but I can speak if you like. Aww.�
� He kicks the man to sleep one more time and turns back to me. “We have to go back now, princess, or will die in this awfully ignorant dream.”

  “No. We have to get her on that boat to Murano first.” I say and pull up Bianca into the carriage. It’s amazing how she trusts me and doesn’t think we’re going to burn her or kill her. “Don’t be afraid. We will help you.” I tell her in Italian.

  “Italian much?” Loki wonders, helping her.

  “I speak a lot of languages,” I say and hand him a whip. He returns a suspicious look. “Here?” I can’t let him waist our time. “Don’t start. You can ride this carriage to the boat, right?”

  “Of course, my princess,” He smiles and grabs it. “My apologies for the misunderstanding, Bianca,” He bows his head with respect. I don’t know if he is mocking us. “Anything to get us out this damn dream.”

  I close the door of the carriage, listening to Loki hitting some other guys then ride up. As he whips the horses forward, he shouts, “Mama Mia!”

  Even Bianca laughs.

  Bianca thanks me, squeezing my hand. “If you didn’t save me, I would have felt the rage eventually and lost control of my power, and that’s not good.”

  “I know,” I nod, noticing that she is pregnant. That is exactly what I am here for. I think my mission will succeed. “We will send you to Murano. This where you will have the baby.”

  “Thank you.” She keeps repeating and wanting to kiss my hand. I guess it’s an old Italian gesture of appreciation. I try not to cry as I can’t tell her what’s going to happen to her after she brings the baby to the world.

  We arrive at the boat, and she gets on it while Loki keeps urging me that it’s about time to start the ritual to get out of the dream. He says that if we stay too long in the dream, we could stay lost here forever. I don’t tell him that I know about that since this is exactly what happened to Cinderella.

  “Ok,” I say. “Just one more thing,” I turn back to Bianca as she embarks on the boat. “Have you chosen a name for your daughter?”

  A broad and full smile arrests her features as she nods. “Cinder.” She says, raising her smeared five-finger hands in the air, then she points at the cinder covering her face in a proud way.