Emily's House (The Akasha Chronicles) (2 page)

You probably think I was mad at Muriel. And I was a little. But mostly I was mad at my mom, Bridget.

It had been seven years since she died, and I felt mad as hell at her. The more I lay there the more I thought about how she had up and left me. And the more I thought about how she cut out on me, the madder I got. And the madder I got at her, the more I cried. I was starting to hate my mom as much as I hated Muriel.

“Mom, why did you leave me?” I whispered to the emptiness around me.

The soundless emptiness of my room was suddenly filled with a low hissing sound.

“Mom?”

No answer, just the low hiss that sounded like steam coming through an old radiator.
What the heck is that?
I thought. I opened my window and listened. It was coming from my old tree house, still perched in the large oak tree right outside my window.

I went to my bathroom and wiped the tear tracks from my face. My eyes were red and puffy and my face blotchy from crying. I pulled the wads of toilet paper out of my nose. I put on a clean T-shirt and went to my window, opened it up and eased out onto the large oak tree branch just outside my window.

I didn’t know it then, but scooting myself across that branch was the beginning of a long journey.

2. Emily’s Visitor

My dad had built a large tree house in an old tree, in our backyard, before he became a zombie. Neither he nor Muriel had ever bothered to tear it down so there it stood, wedged amongst the large branches of the old oak.

My legs were still a little wobbly from my run in with Muriel, but I stayed low and climbed across the branches until I got to the tree house. The closer I got the louder the hissing noise.

I sat on the branch at the opening to the tree house, looking in to see what was making the noise. I didn’t see anything. It was dark and dusty, the only light coming from the small opening. I crawled inside, my five feet six frame barely fitting through the hole that was made for a small child. But once inside, there was plenty of room, and I sat to the side trying to let my eyes adjust to the darkness.

The hissing grew louder, and after a few minutes, I saw a faint light appear in the middle of my tree house, right in front of me. It started small like the light from a mini flashlight. Then it grew to the size of a softball, and as it grew, it became brighter.

I thought Aunt Muriel had knocked my head around good and that I had a concussion.
Great, now I’m losing my hearing and seeing weird lights,
I thought

I blinked my eyes, rubbed them and tipped my head and tapped the other side, like you do when you’re trying to get water out of your ears. Nope didn’t work. I still heard the hissing sound and the light ball was growing bigger, soon about the size of a large dog. Then the hissing changed. It became a low, slow hum. The light got so bright; I had to shade my eyes from it.

Suddenly, POP! The bright light disappeared, and the humming became low and soft – more of a droning background noise. I squinted my eyes to see through a kind of misty, silvery fog.
What’s there?

I saw the outline of something. As my eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness, the image became clearer. What I saw there made me want to scream.

I wanted to scream, but I didn’t. If I screamed Aunt Muriel would find me and then I’d have more trouble. I thought about shimmying back across the tree branch and into my room. But something about the thing drew me in.

Before me stood a small furry creature. It was about four feet tall but seemed fully-grown. Its head was doglike, with a dog nose and whiskers, but its ears were more like a wild boar. His eyes were the oddest thing about him. They were large and dark brown, almost black, but seemed to be stuck in a perpetually sad look, with bags and wrinkles underneath.

The creature’s body was hairy all over like a dog, but he had hands like a man and wore clothes. He wore a collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a brown tweed vest topping dark brown wool flannel pants.

I should have been scared. I mean this alien creature – clearly not from around here – had just landed in my tree house. I thought I was hallucinating though. Aunt Muriel had popped me a good one! Anyway, his eyes were so warm and with his cute little tweed vest, he didn’t look frightening.

“Can you see me, child of Brighid?” said the creature.

“I. . . I see you, yes, whatever you are,” I said.

“I am Hindergog, Bard of the Order of Brighid, keeper of the tales of the High Priestess, servant to her majesty in the Netherworld,” he said.

“Well, I guess that answers it,” I said. After I said it, I realized my sarcasm. I enjoy being a smart aleck to my aunt, even though I pay for it, but I immediately regretted being so smirky to this creature.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to be sarcastic with you. My aunt always tells me that I have an awful mouth.”

“There is nothing awful about you, daughter of Brighid. It is your lack of training that is awful,” he said.

“Training?”

“You have reached the age of fourteen Beltane fires, have you not?”

“Well I don’t know anything about Beltane, but I’m fourteen years old,” I said.

“Then you are four years late for the start of your training. But there is no time to waste. We must start now. You are the last in the lineage of the Order of Brighid. You are the only one with the powers to defeat Dughall the Dark One, but you require training,” Hindergog said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. And that is truly strange since you are a figment of my imagination, you’d think I’d know what my own imagination is talking about,” I said.

“Daughter of Brighid, I am not of your imagination.”

“Then you are real?”

“Real? What is real? In your world, you are all about this ‘real’. That is quite the wrong question you know.”

“Now I’m getting thoroughly confused. Well, whether you’re real or not, you seem kind, and I could use a friend, so it’s nice to meet you Hindergog,” I said. I reached my hand out to shake his.

But when I reached for his hand, my hand went right through him. He wasn’t flesh and blood after all.

“So you are a figment. Too bad,” I said.

“In my world, I am quite ‘real’ as you say. But I can only come to you in this form through the use of the Crystals of Alsted. I am, what in your world might be called a ‘hologram’,” said Hindergog. “A projection of sorts.”

“Where is your body then?”

“My body resides in another realm called the Netherworld. In your world, it is called another dimension. My body cannot travel to your realm without damage so I must meet with you this way.”

“Are you serious? So you’re using some sort of cosmic telephone?”

“I don’t know this ‘telephone’ of which you speak. Please listen child of Brighid, as I do not have much time. It took what in your world would be several hundred years to collect the amount of crystals needed to project myself to you. I should have about one hour of your time, but no more. And I have much to tell you as you have had no prior education in these things.”

Just then I heard Jake and Fanny talking to each other down below. They were at our meeting place, the tree, just like we’d planned.

“Wait a minute little dude,” I told Hindergog as I crawled on my knees over to the opening of the house. “Hey guys – up here,” I whispered to Jake and Fan. They both came over to the ladder that led up the tree.

“What ‘ya doin’ up there?” asked Fanny.

“You’ll find out in a minute. Get up here. But listen, when you get up here,
don’t scream
.”

Jake and Fanny looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders but were totally silent as they climbed up. Jake came first. I could see his spiky blond hair and coke-bottle glasses when he reached the top. As soon as his eyes cleared the top rung, he gasped. He didn’t say a word and he didn’t scream, but it looked like he stopped breathing altogether.

Fanny was right behind Jake, her dark curly hair contained under a ball cap. When she got to the top, she let out a soft cry of surprise and then quickly caught herself and covered her mouth with her hand. She climbed in too and Jake was on one side of Fanny and me on the other. All three of us sat there silently and stared at the creature. When Hindergog broke the silence, all three of us jumped a little.

“Daughter of Brighid, who are these others? This will not do. My message is for you alone.”

“First of all, stop calling me Daughter of Brighid. My name is Emily, and if you want to talk to me, you can get my name right.”

“Yes, as you wish, daughter of, I mean. . . Emily.”

“Second, this is Jake, and this is Fanny. They are my two best friends and anything you want to say to me, you need to say to them, too.”

“Oh, Mistress Emily, I do not have time to argue the point. This is likely to cause severe problems. But my time grows ever shorter and with so much to tell. . .” His voice trailed off. He looked like he was thinking and he looked plenty worried.

“So be it, they can stay. But listen well, all of you, as I have much to tell you.”

“What is this. . .thing and why is it here?” asked Jake.

“His name is Hindergog,” I said. “And I have no idea what he is or why he’s here. He says he’s a holographic projection from another dimension.”

“Shut up!” said Fanny.

“
Please
hear me humans of fourteen Beltane fires,” Hindergog pled. “I will tell you all that you are required to know. And when I am done, the one who calls herself Emily must be prepared for her journey to the Sacred Grove.”

“Emily, you’re leaving?” asked Jake.

“I wasn’t planning on it Jake. I have no idea what the hell this little dude is talking about.”

“I ask your patience Younglings,” Hindergog pled. “It is most urgent for all of you, and all in your world, that Emily, descendant of my Saorla, last High Priestess of the Order of Brighid, learn of her heritage and of her destiny.”

“This sounds heavy, Em,” said Jake.

“What are you talking about Hindergog? What destiny?” I asked.

“Miss Emily, you know of your own unique abilities.”

“What’s he talking about?” asked Jake.

I felt squirmy. I didn’t say a word and Jake and Fanny were both staring at me, waiting for me to explain what the little alien guy was talking about.

“Spill it Adams,” commanded Fanny.

“Look, it’s nothing spectacular or anything. It’s just that. . .well, I have these visions – like seeing the future.”

“GET OUT!” shouted Fanny.

“Shh, Muriel,” I warned as I put a finger to my lips.

“But there is more to it than that young one, much more,” Hindergog said.

“More? You can do more than see the future?” queried Jake.

“Oh crapballs! I
so
didn’t want anyone to know this stuff,” I said as I tried to weasel out of talking about it. The three of them stared at me in silence, and it was clear that Jake and Fanny weren’t going to let me out of this.

“Alright, here’s the thing. When I was little I could hear what my mom was thinking, okay. It was like a radio station playing in my head. I only had that with her, and when she died, her radio station went off the air permanently. Now I don’t even get static.”

“And. . .” said Fanny.

“And?”

“You said you could see the future. What’s up with that?” asked Jake.

“I don’t know. Look, I hate talking about this.”

“Have you seen my future?” asked Fanny. “Am I like a famous sports figure?”

“No, Fanny, I haven’t seen your future. I haven’t seen anyone’s future, not since. . .”

“Since what Em?” asked Jake.

“Since my mom died.”

The crowded little house was silent. The only sound was the low drone of Hindergog’s cosmic telephone. Sometimes it seemed like it was more painful retelling it than it was going through it in the first place.

“You saw your mom die?” asked Jake.

“What do you think she saw nub – fluffy bunnies and flowers?” said Fanny.

“Yes Jake, I had a vision, and I saw my mom die. I was holding her hand one day and there it was, just like a movie in my mind’s eye. I saw her hooked up to machines and saw her eyes sunken into her drawn, pale face, and I saw her take her last breath.”

“Good job Jake, making Emily go through that,” said Fanny as she rubbed my back and glared at Jake.

“It’s okay Fanny, really.”

“Sorry Em, I didn’t mean to make you sad,” said Jake. “I’m thick I guess. You saw that one vision, and then it just stopped?”

“Well, sort of. I started to have another vision. With Greta.”

“Greta!” said Fanny. “What the hell?”

“Remember my first day back to school after my mom died?”

“Who could forget it? You ran out of the school like a maniac. I never did understand what that was about,” said Fanny.

“Well it was about Greta. She came up to me and was saying she was sorry about my mom – blah, blah, blah – and she put her hand on my shoulder all sincere like. But that turned on my T.V. receptor, and I started to see a vision of the future - Greta’s future. I screamed for her to get her hand off me, and I ran. I didn’t want to see what that movie was about. Bought myself a trip to the guidance counselor.”

“That’s when Greta started calling you ‘Freak Girl’ and being mean to you,” said Fanny. The puzzle pieces were finally falling into place for her.

“Yep.”

“I guess you don’t rebuff Greta-the-Charming without consequences,” said Jake. “Now I get why you don’t play sports and try to avoid. . .”

“Being touched. Yeah, I don’t want to see anyone die.”

“There is more Miss Emily, so much more,” said Hindergog.

The little blabbermouth.

“More than seeing the future?” asked Jake.

I didn’t want to say anymore. I’d already had to spill enough. But Fanny wasn’t going to let it go.

“Out with it Em,” demanded Fanny.

“I can move things with my mind too,” I said.

“You cannot!” said Jake.

“Yep, I can.”

“I don’t believe you,” he said.

“Show us Em,” said Fanny excitedly.

“I’m not a show dog!”