Heroine's Journey

by Sarah Kuhn

  I let out a long, gusty sigh.

  “Feeling pretty awkward here!” I called out. “Can we get this going? Whatever this is supposed to be? Because otherwise, I’m outta here. I have to get back to the mission I was on, talking to Kathy Kooper.”

  Nothing. No response. Just that eerie silence that made my skin crawl.

  “Fine,” I said. “Thanks for the wild goose chase. I’m leaving.”

  I turned on my heel, trying to be extra dramatic about it, and started back toward—

  Get on the Ferris wheel.

  I stopped in my tracks.

  Excuse me? I thought back. I don’t know if you heard, but all the rides are having technical difficulties right now. It could be dangerous.

  Get on the Ferris wheel.

  The voice offered no further explanation, but there was a firmness to its tone this time. Like it wasn’t about to take any back talk from me.

  I’d come this far, hadn’t I? Gone to the trouble of mind-mojo-ing the guy out front and left Sam to make endless small talk with Kathy about cat-hair knitting or whatever, right?

  I strode over to the bottom car of the Ferris wheel. The rusty metal bar made an ominous creaking sound as I unlatched it and climbed inside. And then I just sat there, once again feeling vaguely ridiculous. Was the thing going to start up all by itself? Was I about to be trapped on top of a Ferris wheel with no way of getting off and no one around and no people within screaming distance? I’d had a fantasy in my tween years about getting trapped at the top of the Ferris wheel with whatever dorky, floppy-haired boy or mysterious gothy girl I’d been crushing on at the time. It had seemed devastatingly romantic. Now it seemed like a really stupid way to die.

  But the Ferris wheel wasn’t starting. I was still just sitting, waiting for something to happen.

  I slumped back in the seat, running my fingers along the multiple rips in the cheap vinyl lining of the car and wondered how long I should wait around before I declared this tangent to my mission a proper failure.

  “This isn’t the weirdest situation I’ve been in the past few days,” I said out loud, “but it’s certainly the most—”

  WHOOM

  The blast of sound whooshed through my ears, making me gasp. It was just like the sound in the It’s Lit bathroom and was followed by the same sensation: falling and falling and falling, surrounded by a starless spacescape. I couldn’t see . . . couldn’t see . . .

  SMACK

  This time, I landed somewhere instead of being suspended in mid-air. I felt around—the surface I’d landed on was soft and cool and had a velvety texture. Just like the surface I’d reached out and touched earlier today at Pussy Queen.

  I struggled to get to my feet, but attempting any kind of movement was slow going. The air was thicker, the gravity greater, weighing all of my limbs down. I managed to get myself upright, but I couldn’t stand up totally straight. I was sort of stooped over, like the atmosphere was pressing down on my back. I tried to move forward and only managed the tiniest of steps.

  Where the fuck am I?

  I tried to look around, but all I could see was blackness. The starless spacescape again, but now I could walk through it, sort of. And I realized if I squinted really hard, I could make out vague, shadowy shapes here and there, but I had no clue what they were.

  Beatrice.

  A voice echoed in my head. I squinted with all my might—was it one of these vague shapes? Were they talking to me? It didn’t sound like my mom . . .

  Hello? I thought back. Who are you? Am I in the Otherworld? Really, any direct answers would be—

  Don’t trust Kathy Kooper.

  Okay, so that was a direct answer to a question I hadn’t actually asked.

  “Why not?” I said out loud. My speech came out slow and watery, like it had been run through one of those distortion machines they use to disguise people’s voices on reality TV shows.

  “She has done unspeakable things,” the voice said out loud, and I nearly jumped out of my skin—or I would have if I’d been able to move with any kind of ease. The voice was slow and distorted, like mine, but I could tell it was coming from somewhere on my right. With great effort, I turned in that direction. One of the shadowy shapes I’d made out earlier seemed to be coming into some kind of focus. Or I was delirious from being trapped in this freaky demon spacescape. You know, either/or.

  “What kinds of things?” I said, trying to step toward the voice. It seemed like I was starting to move a little easier, but every motion I attempted still felt like pulling teeth. “Did she hurt my mom, somehow? Please, tell me the right questions to ask—”

  “She banished me,” the voice spat out. “She is hateful. She . . . she . . .” The voice sputtered, trying to compose itself. I was starting to make out its form, which seemed to be coalescing before my eyes, the shadowy blob turning solid and person-shaped. The voice was also starting to sound more familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m gonna need more than that.” I realized that I had to raise my voice to be heard, that I was practically shouting. I shook my head, trying once again to find my bearings. There was a dull roar in my ears, like a plane trying to land. And getting closer and closer, louder and louder . . . “What’s that sound?”

  “Our time is drawing short,” the shadowy figure said, nodding its blobby head sagely. “Don’t trust her. And ask her about . . .”

  The figure trailed off and the roaring got louder, making me want to put my hands over my ears. I tried to lift my arms, but my body was still weighed down by the heavy atmosphere of this strange place.

  The roaring was so loud it drowned out everything, and I couldn’t tell if the figure was still speaking, if I was missing some crucial piece of info. Frustration clawed at me, and I wanted to scream loud enough to drown out the overwhelming roar.

  “What?” I yelled, desperation lacing through my voice. “Ask her about what?!”

  “Pr . . . ellllsssss . . .” The shadowy figure was trying to yell over the roaring, but I still couldn’t hear them.

  “What?!” The roaring sounded like we were right under a freakin’ plane now.

  “PRETZELS!”

  All of a sudden, the blobby figure came into focus, and I could see him clearly. It was none other than the guy in the big foam pretzel costume—the one Sam and I had seen on our last visit to the Market. He was still wearing that ridiculous costume, but now he looked haggard, distressed. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his mouth was open wide as he screamed that last word at me. His costume looked raggedy and frayed around the edges, like he’d been wearing it for a while.

  “What—” I started to say.

  WHOOM

  There was that gust of wind crashing through my head again, and now I could move way more easily. I clapped my hands over my ears, and then my eyes flew open and I was back in the stupid Ferris wheel seat, the rest of my question dancing on the tip of my tongue.

  That loud roaring was still overwhelming me, forcing me to keep my hands over my ears. I looked around wildly, trying to pinpoint its source. But something was wrong. The carnival looked like it had a weird film over it, like . . . oh, holy shit. It was a foggy veil, like the one I’d experienced earlier at Pussy Queen. Was I between worlds again?

  Wherever I was, that loud sound was more distinctive and layered here. It had a metallic aspect to it, like gears grinding against each other or a squeaky wheel that needed a major dose of oil. It also sounded like . . . crashing. No, stomping. Like a dinosaur or some other gargantuan monster was bulldozing its way through the abandoned carnival.

  I slid under the metal bar, wriggled my way out of the Ferris wheel car, and jumped to the ground. I looked around frantically, my heart racing, adrenaline spiking my blood. The sound was definitely getting louder . . . closer . . . what the fuck . . .
/>   CRASSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHH

  Through the veil, I saw the games booth—the one with the freaky rows of beady-eyed stuffed animals—go down, crumpling like a used up tissue. And then I saw . . . it. Rising out from behind the wreckage.

  It was the ride from before—the Spider, the Octopus, whatever animal you wanted to call it—and it was crashing its way through the carnival, stomping things to the ground with its thick metal legs.

  CRASSSSHHHHH CRASSSSHHHH BOOOOMMMMMM

  A hot dog stand went down. Then a ticket booth. Then a kiddie ride with cars shaped like ladybugs.

  I ran.

  As if sensing my presence, the Spider turned and altered course, its metallic parts squeaking and creaking with the effort. And it started stomping and crashing and booming its way toward me.

  Fuckfuckfuck

  I tried to run faster, cursing my lack of athletic prowess and the fact that the fog-veil thing was impeding my ability to see very far. Occasionally, my hands brushed against something that felt like that odd velvety texture, but I barely registered that. My breath wheezed out in rapid gasps until I was practically hyperventilating, and my heart kept up its million-beats-a-minute pace. Sweat poured down my face, and I couldn’t summon up a single coherent thought. Just, Get out get out get out.

  I risked a quick glance over my shoulder and then was sorry I had, because the thing was gaining on me. Its black paint gleamed malevolently in the late afternoon sun, and I felt my terror intensify, consuming me, every pore of my body emanating fear.

  Goddammit, I wish Evie and Aveda were here. I wish . . . I wish . . .

  Wait.

  Wasn’t I the one who’d kicked ass at the Wave Organ? I had powers, too. I was strong, too.

  I stopped in my tracks, whipped around, and let out the most ear-piercing scream I could muster. I had a fleeting moment of panic that it wouldn’t be loud at all since I’d expended so much breath on running, but it was loud enough to claw my throat raw, to make my ears ring. And yes, to shatter the giant Spider monster in front of me, which made one last heaving step and then crumbled to dust at my feet.

  I fell to my knees, breathing hard, nearly face-planting on the ground. Tears of relief and shock streamed down my cheeks. Holy shit. Holy fuck. I’d just been chased by a gigantic mecha carnival ride. Evie and Aveda would be disappointed to hear they’d missed out on so much excitement.

  I’m not sure how long I stayed in that position, sprawled out on the ground, trying to regain control of my breath. But when I finally looked up, I did a double take—the veil had cleared. It looked like I was back in the real world. There was no shiny black Spider detritus at my feet. No wrecked carnival in front of me. Everything was totally back to normal. I got to my feet slowly, and cautiously began to retrace my steps. The hot dog stand was back. Ditto the game booth with the creepy stuffed animals, who were back to staring at me with their creepy beady eyes. And the Spider? I turned around and saw it—back in its original spot. As if nothing had happened.

  What. The. Hell.

  Had everything I’d experienced after the Ferris wheel happened in that weird space between our world and the Otherworld? Was the carnival located in a spot where the walls were super thin? And if so, how had I managed to jump back to the real world myself, without any help from Scott’s spells?

  I made my way back to the carnival entrance, trying to remain hyper-vigilant and aware of my surroundings. But it didn’t matter. The carnival was back to being its creepy, empty self. No mechas chasing me and destroying everything. I slipped under the chain at the entrance and saw the guy from before, who was back on his stool, scrolling through his phone.

  “Hope you had fun, Miss!” he said, giving me a jovial smile.

  “I guess that depends on your definition of fun,” I muttered. But he was back to being engrossed in his phone and didn’t hear me.

  I stomped back toward Kathy’s booth, my head swirling with everything that had just happened. Where did I even begin to try to make sense of all of this? I only had one clue: Kathy. And I needed to treat her as more of a hostile witness, because if anything Pretzel Guy had said was true . . .

  What had he said, exactly? I shook my head, replaying our conversation. She couldn’t be trusted. She’d banished him there.

  Holy frakballs, Kathy, what have you been up to? And what does all of this have to do with Mom? What did you do to Mom?

  I finally reached Kathy’s booth and saw Sam leaning against one of the tables displaying her wares, looking bored. Kathy was helping a customer, showing them one of her cat-hair creations. I felt a wild, irrational stab of anger. How dare this woman act like everything was totally freaking normal, going on and on about her dumb crafts and looking pleased as punch about it, while I was getting my ass chased through a creepy carnival by a giant Spider mecha?

  “Bea!” Sam spotted me and stood up straight, looking relieved that we could finally leave. I stomped past him and elbowed my way into the space between Kathy and her customer.

  “Beatrice,” Kathy said, looking appalled at my rudeness. “As you can see, I’m with a customer—”

  “And they were just leaving,” I said, my voice flat. I snatched the cat-hair craft out of her hands and passed it to the customer. “Here, you can have this. On the house.”

  “Excuse me,” Kathy said, eyes wide with indignation. “It certainly is not free, that one-of-a-kind creation is three hundred and—”

  “Free,” I repeated loudly, grasping the customer by the shoulders and meeting their eyes.

  I love it and I’m so grateful and I have to go now, I projected at them.

  “Wow, I love it and I’m so grateful and I have to go now!” the customer sang out, waving and trotting off into the distance.

  “I’m not sure what you think you’re doing,” Kathy said, her voice laced with quiet fury. “But—”

  “Tell me,” I said, whipping back around and glaring at her. “What did you do to my mother? What did you do to the pretzel guy? Tell. Me.”

  “Bea,” Sam said, putting a hand on my shoulder. I shook him off.

  “You’re going to tell me everything,” I hissed at Kathy. My voice was low and growly and full of so much rage, I almost didn’t recognize it. But I was practically shaking with anger now, I couldn’t believe this woman, this woman who claimed to be my mother’s best friend . . .

  Anger pulsed through my veins like hot, molten lava—throbbing against my skin, like my whole body was about to explode. I couldn’t think, couldn’t form coherent emotions beyond being totally fucking mad. I wasn’t completely aware of what I was doing, I just knew I wanted her to feel that, to understand the full force of my anger, so I picked out a tiny thread underneath: fear.

  I gathered that up and projected it at her harder than I’d ever projected anything before. I blasted fear at her. I wanted her to go all remorseful and tell me everything. But even more than that, I wanted her to cower. To shrink from me. To fucking fear me.

  I saw it hit, saw her eyes widen. She took a step back.

  Yeah, that’s freaking right, lady.

  “I . . . I . . .” she said, blinking rapidly.

  “My mother,” I said. “The pretzel guy. What. Did. You. Do?”

  She swallowed hard and took another step back, and I felt a vicious stab of triumph. This was it. I was going to get my mom back. And I was going to get revenge on whoever had trapped her in the Otherworld. Power thrummed through me, deep and dark and potent. Yes.

  She swallowed again and something I couldn’t quite grasp flickered across her face. Then she drew herself up tall and her expression turned steely.

  “You’re being very rude, Beatrice,” she said. “I think your mother would be extremely disappointed in you.”

  My jaw dropped. What the frak. She was supposed to cower and go all meek and apologetic and tell me everything sh
e knew.

  “Bea, maybe we should go,” Sam said. I ignored him.

  Okay, I was just going to have to try harder. I rolled my neck, gathered up all that fear, and pushed it at her with all my might. I waited for her to step back again, for the fear to take hold.

  Instead she moved closer, until we were practically nose to nose. “Stop that, Beatrice.”

  Before I could even register that, I felt something shove against my mind. Hard. It was like the feeling I was projecting was being thrown back at me.

  What . . .

  Did Kathy . . . could she do what I did? Did she have my power? Was she secretly an evil being from the Otherworld?

  Well, whatever was happening, I needed to kick her ass . . . brain. Ass-brain? Brain-ass? “You stop it,” I growled, mentally shoving the fear back in her direction. “And tell me what you did to the fucking pretzel guy.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” she said, giving me a sweet-as-pie smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “He simply couldn’t handle the competition—”

  “That’s so odd. Because it seemed like he was doing bang-up business, while you’re barely selling any of these ass-ugly cat-hair crafts—”

  “Whatever something seems like isn’t always the reality,” she said, sounding out each syllable.

  “What? That doesn’t even make sense!” I pushed the fear at her hard—and felt that responding shove against my mind again.

  Okay, seriously. What the fuck.

  I shoved back with all my mental might—and then we were simultaneously pushing each other, our minds deadlocked, trying to find purchase. I redoubled my efforts. I wasn’t about to back down.

  I’d never had to fight back against someone else trying to emotionally project at me. Sweat beaded my brow, and a red haze descended over my vision. Everything was going fuzzy around the edges, like the world had narrowed and now only consisted of me, Kathy Kooper, and our mental stand-off. A high-pitched whine echoed through my ears and I winced. Everything hurt.

  I was vaguely aware of the sound of glass shattering somewhere to my right, and I hazily wondered if it was the sound of my brain breaking apart. Then I heard Sam’s voice in my ear, though it sounded like he was so far away, trying to yell at me through a tunnel.