Vengeance

by Michelle Madow

  CHAPTER 3

  Mystic Pathways hadn’t changed since the time I went in there a few years ago with Lizzie. The thin carpet was forest green, the walls were dark wood, and the lighting was so dim that it took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust. There were no ceiling lights, only lamps on top of the multi-level wooden tables that held strange knick-knacks. The shelves on the walls were stocked with old books, and there were spices and herbs near the back. Two college-aged girls dressed in earth-toned clothing perused crystals on a nearby table, but other than that, the store was empty.

  “Is your aunt even here today?” I asked, keeping my voice low so I wouldn’t grab the attention of the girls. The last thing I needed was for them to walk up to us and try to start a conversation about potions and herbs, or whatever they talked about for fun.

  “She’s probably in the back,” Shannon said. She headed toward the old wooden desk at the back of the room and pressed the bell next to the cash register—the kind they have at hotels when you want to get the attention of the concierge.

  The door in the back creaked open, and an old lady hobbled out. She moved slowly toward us, balancing on the cane she held in her shaking hand. Her wrinkly skin was so pale it was almost translucent, and even though it was dark in the store, I could see the blue veins popping out on the top of her hands. She wore one of those shapeless dresses fat women wear, even though she was so thin that a breeze could knock her over. Her wispy gray hair was cut above her shoulders, and when she looked at me I shuddered at the sight of her milky eyes. It didn’t seem possible she could see, but she managed to continue forward, the cane clomping against the floor with each step she took.

  When she reached us she studied me, then turned her attention to Shannon.

  “I see you’ve brought a friend,” she said, her papery lips quivering as she spoke. “Would you care to introduce us?”

  “This is Chelsea.” Shannon motioned toward me. “We’re in school together. Chelsea, this is my great-aunt Genevieve. She’s the one I was telling you about—the one who owns the store.”

  The way Genevieve looked at us both at once was creepy, like she could focus on different things with each eye. Goosebumps prickled over my arms, even though it wasn’t cold.

  “Any particular reason why you brought Chelsea to me?” Genevieve asked Shannon. She did a motion that I guessed would be raising an eyebrow, if she had any hair where her eyebrows should be.

  “Yes.” Shannon cleared her throat and continued, “Remember a few months ago when you told me you wanted me to bring someone in to meet you? I think Chelsea’s the one you were referring to.”

  “Really?” Genevieve turned her attention to me, and her cloudy eyes took on a sharper quality, as if she was seeing me for the first time. She stepped forward and grabbed my hand, her skin cold and coarse. I flinched, surprised by her touch, but her grip was stronger than I expected. Then she pressed her fingers into my palm and closed her eyes, deep in concentration.

  I was starting to wonder why I’d agreed to come here in the first place. It wasn’t like this old lady could do anything to improve my situation. Still, I would bear through it, because Shannon wanted me to.

  “I sense that you’re angry,” Genevieve finally said. Her voice was calmer than before, as if she was under a trance. “You’ve been betrayed by those you trusted the most.”

  “Yeah.” I shifted from one foot to the other. I didn’t know if she wanted me to believe she was psychic from one observation, but I wasn’t that gullible. I tried to tug my hand out of her grip, but she held on firmly, not allowing me to let go.

  “Not so fast,” she said. “This isn’t the first time you’ve lived out these experiences. There was another time, nearly two centuries ago, when something similar happened to you. However, there was quite a different ending to your story then. Now you have been reborn, and things aren’t working out the way you hoped.”

  Reborn? That was impossible. I tried again to pull my hand out of hers, successfully this time.

  “Seriously?” I said. “That stuff is cool in stories and all, but just … no. No way. That’s not possible.”

  “You said you would keep an open mind,” Shannon insisted.

  “That was before I was told I had a past life.” I threw my hands in the air, amazed by the ridiculousness of all this.

  “You’re the one who said you couldn’t shake the feeling that everything happening to you was wrong, and it wasn’t supposed to end up this way,” she pointed out. “What if you do have a past life? My aunt can help you remember.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “It’s too out there to even think about it.”

  “Come on, dear,” Genevieve said. “Shannon’s right. Listen to what I have to say. There are ways I can help you. You can regain control of what’s going on in your life, and change things back to the way they were supposed to be.” I remained silent, which I suppose she took as a hint to continue. “Come with me to the back room, and I will do everything within my ability to help you,” she said, coaxing me to follow her. “I might be the only help you have. It would be such a shame for you to turn down the opportunity I’m giving you now.”

  I swallowed, trying to absorb what she was saying. “Do you mean you can help me get Drew back?” I asked.

  “That might be something I can help you with.” She leaned closer to me, her eyes taking on a sinister quality. “If you’re willing to listen.”

  Shannon seemed as intrigued as her aunt to hear my decision, and from the determination in her eyes, I got the feeling I might risk losing her as a friend if I didn’t listen to what Genevieve had to say. I would hate if that happened. Now that Lizzie had gone behind my back and destroyed any trust I had in her, Shannon was the closest thing to a friend I had. I always dated lots of boys, but never had any close friends who were girls besides Lizzie. I hadn’t needed anyone else. Now if Shannon got mad at me, she might tell everyone in her group not to be friends with me. Then I would have no one.

  The thought of being alone frightened me more than I cared to admit.

  “Alright,” I decided. “Let’s do this.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Genevieve led me into the back room, which was the size of a large walk-in closet. It smelled old and musty, like it hadn’t seen fresh air for years. A dark Persian rug was spread out on the floor, and there was a small wooden table with colored candles on it and a crystal ball in the center. Around the table were two worn red velvet chairs. The room was dim, the only light coming from the standing lamp on the side of the room with a pink cloth shade. Next to the lamp was a cabinet with a teakettle on top of it.

  “Please take a seat, dear,” Genevieve said, motioning to the chair farther from the door.

  It was only the two of us now. This talk about what Genevieve referred to as “past life regression” was a private matter, so Shannon had to wait in the store while Genevieve did whatever witchy-voodoo thing she was going to try with me.

  At the very least, this situation had entertainment value. Not like I would be able to joke about it with anyone. That would require admitting I was here in the first place, which was out of the question.

  I followed Genevieve’s instructions and sat in the chair, resting my elbows on the armrests. She leaned her cane against the wall and dimmed the lamp. Then she went into the cabinet, pulled out a blue ceramic mug, and poured some tea into it. After she finished, she picked up the steaming hot mug and maneuvered into her seat.

  “So, how do we do this?” I asked, not bothering to hide my amusement. Just because I was going along with this wacko plan didn’t mean I had to pretend to believe that what she said about past lives was possible.

  She placed the mug in front of me, then struck a match, lighting the three candles on the table. The strong smell of incense filled the room. I looked down into the mug. The drink inside of it was colored like cinnamon tea, only it didn’t smell like cinnamon. It smelled sweet, but a little bitter, too. I had no idea what it
was. I didn’t have anything against tea, but I’d always been more of a coffee girl.

  “First you have to drink the tea and try to relax,” Genevieve said, blowing out the match and placing it in the tray beneath the center candle. “I understand you’re skeptical, and you don’t believe what I have to tell you. However, I want you to open your mind to the possibilities. If you do, then you may receive the help you desire. Can you do that for me?”

  I pressed my lips together, thinking about it. What if Genevieve could help me get back together with Drew? Wasn’t it worth giving her a chance?

  “I guess I can,” I answered.

  Genevieve looked content with my response. Then she motioned to the tea. “Drink,” she said.

  I picked up the mug, blowing in it before taking a sip. The tea was hot, and it didn’t taste terrible. It wasn’t good, either. It reminded me of berries, but how I imagined they would taste if they weren’t quite ripe yet. Genevieve watched me as I drank, and I drank it quickly, since it was awkward sitting there drinking with her not talking to me. Once finished, I placed the empty mug back down on the table and waited for her next instructions. The tea was warm and soothing, and even though my head felt foggy, I couldn’t remember ever feeling so relaxed in my life.

  “Now I want you to close your eyes,” Genevieve said. “Put every thought you have out of your mind, relax, and focus on what I’m saying.”

  I followed her instructions, closing my eyes and leaning back into the velvet chair. The candles had a raspberry smell, and I sank into the seat, easily falling into complete relaxation.

  Before I knew what was happening, images from the past few months filled my mind. I remembered when Drew walked into class on the first day of school with his black leather jacket and dark mussed up hair. I remembered the fun times we had together—hanging out at my house after our first date at the movies, sitting on the back bleachers during the Beech Tree vs. Derryfield soccer game, and when he told me during lunch that I was the only person he wanted to eat with. He even played guitar for me when I was over his house. When I was with him, I felt wanted and special. I remembered how he said we could go to his house in Palm Beach over winter break, and skiing at his house in Aspen in the spring. With Drew, life was full of adventure and possibilities.

  Now those things would never happen.

  At that thought, the darker memories sunk in. How he used to zone out and refuse to tell me what he was thinking, how I caught him watching Lizzie during the soccer game, and the way he ran after Lizzie at Shannon’s party, not thinking twice about me.

  “Are you relaxed?” Genevieve’s voice interrupted my thoughts.

  I nodded, not moving as I waited for her to continue.

  “Picture a white light surrounding you,” she instructed. “See it in your mind first, and then around your arms, hands, body, legs, and feet, until it’s enveloped you completely.”

  The image of a glowing white light instantly formed in my mind. It felt warm and tingly, and I could envision it spreading over my skin, making a protective cocoon around my body. It was like armor, as if it could stop anything bad from reaching me.

  “Now I want you to picture a long hallway in front of you, with a large door at the end,” she continued.

  I didn’t have to concentrate too hard before an image of a hallway formed in my mind. It looked like something from another time, with pale yellow walls and light wooden floors. Portraits of fancily dressed people who were too serious for their own good lined the walls, all within elaborate gold molded frames. They looked like they belonged in a museum. Most of the portraits were of individual people—women in high waisted gowns with their hair styled in curls atop their heads, and men wearing jackets and white shirts that went all the way up to their chins.

  At the end of the hallway was a door, and it was more beautiful than any door I had ever seen. White marble columns flanked both sides, and an arch designed with intricate carvings formed over the top. On both sides of it were small wooden tables holding golden candelabras. It looked like it led somewhere majestic and magical.

  “I want you to walk toward the door.” Genevieve’s voice sounded far away and dreamlike, like an echo through the hall. “When you get there, turn the knob and enter wherever it may lead.”

  I did as she said and took a few tentative steps toward the door. The white light around me grew more intense, as if it was trying to protect me from whatever I was about to walk into.

  I reached for the golden knob, gave it a gentle turn, and slowly opened the door.

  CHAPTER 5

  On the other side of the door was a beautiful ballroom from another century. The floor was tiled with white marble, and the two-story walls were lined with Ionic columns. Huge windows filled the far wall, surrounded by heavy, gold-colored drapery tied back with large tassels. It was dark outside, and since there was no surrounding light I guessed the location of this place to be somewhere in the country. I looked up, amazed by the glass chandelier hanging from the ceiling—I’d never seen a chandelier so large in my life. But the strangest thing about it was that instead of being electric, it was lit by candles.

  I didn’t have time to think about it anymore, because people started to appear, blurry at first, and gradually coming into focus. They were dancing, and dressed from a different time. The women wore long, flowing dresses with empire waists, and the men wore fancy tuxedos and jackets. Most of the dresses were pastel, with puffy sleeves, and lots of the girls wore gloves that went up to their elbows. Many of them wore ribbons around their waists that tied in the back and went down the length of their dresses. A string orchestra played in the corner, and the classical music was so familiar—like I’d heard it before, but couldn’t remember when. Even the dance felt familiar, with the women and men standing in lines across from each other, occasionally bringing their elbows together as they circled around each other. They were all talking, laughing, and having fun.

  No one acknowledged me though. I supposed that even though I could see them, to them I was invisible.

  The whole scene has a dream-like quality. I could hold onto it, but it felt like it could slip away without a second’s notice.

  I caught sight of a girl who looked like I might have if I’d lived back in that time. She didn’t look exactly like me, but close enough that we could be sisters. Her hair was the same color as mine—dark brown with a hint of red—but piled into a mass of curls on the top of her head. She wore a beautiful red and gold gown, with an empire waist that flowed dramatically to the floor, and she had on white gloves that went all the way up to her elbows. She danced with a guy who resembled Drew, except his hair was longer. He was wearing a white shirt with a ruffled front that went up to his neck, underneath a fancy black jacket. They seemed to be the center of attention, smiling at each other like they couldn’t be happier. The scene felt so familiar, like it was something I had once experienced myself.

  Then a girl walked inside the ballroom who looked strikingly similar to Lizzie. She had the same golden curls, and her long white dress was plain compared to the others in the room. She wore no gloves or jewelry. Drew saw her as well, but before I could see more of the scene, it blurred and shifted, turning into something else.

  Now the girl who resembled me and the guy who looked like Drew were walking through a garden, talking about something serious. The scene wasn’t as clear as the one in the ballroom, and I had no idea what they were discussing. Something was pulling me back. It was like being underwater, where everything sounds fuzzy and when you open your eyes to see, the world has a surreal, blurry quality.

  I wasn’t supposed to be there, but I held on, wanting to know more.

  The scene flashed to my and Drew’s lookalikes inside an old house. He looked devastated, and I couldn’t imagine what had happened to him. Then it switched again, and what I saw in front of me was unmistakable. It was a wedding. My and Drew’s past selves stood at an altar in a magnificent church as they exchanged vows. The fuzzin
ess made it hard to see their exact expressions, but it didn’t matter. I knew what I was seeing, and it meant I was right.

  Drew and I were supposed to end up together.

  Then I was yanked back to the present, to the room in the back of Mystic Pathways. My eyes snapped open, and I gasped as though I had emerged from the water after trying to see how long I could stay under.

  What had I seen? I watched the flames of the candles flicker in front of me as I reoriented myself, sorting the images as they played through my mind. I knew they couldn’t be real, but they felt like it. It was like they were memories, but ones I hadn’t experienced myself.

  It could only mean … but no, that was impossible. Still, I couldn’t shake the thought.

  The memories were ones I had experienced in another lifetime.

  “What did you see?” Genevieve asked. She watched me closely, her eyes glowing in anticipation as she waited for me to respond.

  “It’s impossible.” I shook my head, unable to accept it. However, the images remained in my mind, as real as if they had actually happened. I had no idea how to handle this. I wanted to forget what I’d seen, but I couldn’t force the memories out of my head. There was no turning back.

  “Rare, but not impossible,” Genevieve said. “Reincarnated souls don’t come around often. It’s my job to help them recall their past lives, and help them in their current one. And you, my dear, are in much need of my help. So tell me…” She leaned forward, pressing the tips of her gnarled fingers together. “What did you see?”

  Unable to keep it to myself, I told her about the scenes, giving as many details as I could. She listened intently, nodding here and there, pleased as I described everything. The strangest thing was, as much as I barely believed it, I couldn’t deny what I’d seen.

  I lived a past life, and in that life I married Drew. Even though every logical part of my brain told me it was impossible, it felt real. I told myself it was ridiculous, but that didn’t matter. The feeling wasn’t something I could make go away. And I wasn’t sure I wanted it to.