chapter 15.

I informed dad that I was going to visit Elaine after dinner, which was a white lie but there was no way I could leave the house now without him thinking that I was about to go back to my apparent sex cult as Frank Moon implied. I mentioned that Elaine was feeling a bit under the weather and that I simply wanted to check on her before she went to sleep. I did want to check on Elaine, but not because she was feeling sick, and it wasn't the main reason that I was going out. Instead I was going to find where Mahala was hiding out, hoping that she hadn't skipped town after all of her weird behaviours.

I didn't know who this woman was, but the fact that she knew so much about my premonitions unnerved me. I had never in my twenty-three years on this planet been in contact, or even knew of, someone else who could see the future. Obviously there were charlatans, for lack of a better word, like palm readers, mediums, and other types of pseudoscience that could be seen in the back pages of the newspaper or on late-night infomercials. But their method was easy to see through – they used cold and hot readings, sleight of hand, as well as numerous other forms of illusion and, more importantly, delusion. I had to admit that I couldn't be the only one, that somehow there had to be other people to know of predictions and premonitions. Long ago, and even still to this day, psychic premonitions could be seen in Native culture, as well as many other cultures in the past. It seemed to become more mainstream in Europe as they took a wholesome practice and tarnished it to make a profit, which wasn't unheard of with Europeans. I wasn't sure where my roots came from, but there had to be someone with answers as to why I had been given this gift. If Mahala knew anything, then I would have to get the answers from her.

I drove aimlessly around town, hoping to see her on a park bench or maybe even peering into someone's window. She didn't belong in Harrow Hall, that much I knew, because people like Mahala don't integrate well with the hard-headed, no-nonsense folk that reside here. I had only mildly stepped out of line, and in the most innocent way possible, yet I had been ostracized from the time I was a little girl. Besides, Mahala isn't easy to miss walking down the street, so there was no way that I hadn't known her. Everyone in Harrow Hall knows each other or at least knows of you, it isn't easy to go unnoticed.

The streets were damp from the rain of the day before, noticing the small buds that were quickly blossoming on the trees. It wouldn't be long now until the grass came back to it's normal vibrant green and that the trees would be full of lush leaves. The winter had been long and violent, as it usually is. Most of Harrow Hall wished we lived closer to the California coast, but instead we were tucked away in a small bowl that was surrounded by jutting mountains and forest on the northwestern side of the Rocky Mountains.

I didn't know where else to look, feeling like I would never find Mahala. I parked my van outside of Beans & Brew coffee shop, heading inside to grab myself a hot tea. I was about to place my order at the counter when the idea snapped into my head like a whip of lightning crashing down – the Eight Ball Motel. The barista stared at me dumbfounded as I quickly spun around and ran out of the store, hopping into my van to speed out of the small parking lot. The Eight Ball didn't see much business due to the many ski resorts in the area, which usually brought in the majority of the tourists, but it somehow managed to keep its doors open for over two decades. The outside appearance left nothing to the imagination; it was in dire need of renovations or, at the very least, a new paint job. At first I thought it was supposed to be painted yellow, but dad told me a few years ago that it had actually been white at one point and the yellow was due to the paint tarnishing over time. I hated to think what the inside of the rooms looked like, and instead decided not to put too much thought into it.

When I pulled up I could have sworn the building had been abandoned years ago, but the neon light flashed vacancy as if they ever had to use the no vacancy sign, implying that they had a problem with turning customers away. I wasn't sure if Victor Treble had taken over the business for his parents, though I wondered why he would throw his life away on the Eight Ball, but there he was, manning the front desk. He almost looked shocked when I opened the door, a gentle chime ringing through the small lobby. He dogeared the page in his book, shuffling to his feet as he tried to tuck his shirt into his pants. I motioned for him not to worry, and he sighed with relief.

"Sorry, it's been a quiet night," Victor said, obviously trying to maintain that his business was doing well. I knew otherwise. "What can I help you with?"

"I just had a quick question for you," I said, watching his reaction as he tried not to look disappointed. "You wouldn't happen to have given a room to a woman named Mahala by any chance? She has darker skin, long dreads, no top teeth?"

Victor flipped open his scheduling book, trying to appear as though he had reason to check. He finally looked up, shaking his head but quickly retracting his initial dismissal. "Wait, no teeth?" He asked.

"Yeah, well, top teeth. Have you seen her?"

"I think so, I mean you don't really forget someone that distinguishable," He paused to laugh, closing his scheduling book as he relaxed back into his seat. "She came in about a week ago or so wanting to – I don't know – buy a room, I guess, by selling me used jewelery. Some of it was nice, mind you, but my parents would be livid if I took it."

"Jewelery? Like necklaces and rings?"

"Yeah, there were wristwatches and bracelets, I think I even saw a filling for a tooth," He shuddered. "She was definitely a strange character, sounded like she was speaking in riddles."

"So she didn't get a room?"

"Of course not, there's no way I could try to explain that to my dad, and he would know if someone was staying in the motel," Victor replied.

I cursed under my breath, taking a moment to look around the lobby as I thought through what I was supposed to do now. If she hadn't taken a room at the motel, then where did she go?

"Have you seen her since?" I asked, crossing my fingers that he had.

Victor nodded, pointing out towards the road. "Unfortunately. Every time I drive home on the bridge just over on concession six she seems to be hanging around, like she knows that's the route to my house."

I wanted to laugh, but at the same time it wouldn't surprise me at this point if Mahala did know where he lived. God only knows what that woman was capable of figuring out, or more alarmingly, what she already knew. I thanked Victor for helping me, wishing him good luck with the motel before departing.

When I got back onto the road the sky was so dark that I had to keep my headlights on as I drove out of town, hoping that I wouldn't hit any deer that decided to cross with the little bit of light that my van provided. Concession six wasn't far from the motel, but it was down a lot of gravel roads that were still very slick from the heavy rain on the weekend, causing my vehicle to lose traction more than once. I knew the exact bridge that Victor had been talking about because it was a hotspot in the summer time for diving off of and the stream underneath was great for swimming, not to mention the infamous red bridge parties that happened every weekend underneath it. Jannie and I had spent almost every day there when we were kids, soaking up the sun and swimming until it was time to head home for dinner. There were a lot of great memories at the red bridge, and now I wondered why Mahala had apparently been hanging around it.

I pulled my van onto the side of the road just before the bridge, leaving the headlights on but also flicking on my four-ways just in case anyone happened to drive by, as unlikely as it was. At first I was afraid to step into the darkness, trying to walk in front of my van so that I could stand in the illumination of my headlights. The bridge was constructed of two different materials – the iron that had been painted red many moons ago and the wooden slabs of the flooring. I wondered how the integrity of the bridge had stood up this long, but somehow it had. As soon as I stepped foot onto it, the wood creaked and cracked underneath me, still skeptical about how it hadn't come crashing down. I walked to the center, peering over the side to the slow moving waters of the stream below. I gripped onto the bannister, noticing how everything looked much scarier at night. There were soft chirps of animals nearby and the occasional sound of bushes rustling, but nothing that seemed out of the ordinary. I sighed, taking in a deep breath of the night air. As I did, I caught a whiff of what smelt like wood burning. I almost dismissed it, but something told me not to.

I walked back to my van, opening the trunk and then my roadside kit that dad had made up for me years ago. The contents inside were for if I ever ran out of gas or if I was stuck on the side of the road due to a storm, preparing me for all of the elements and situations. I rifled through it until I found the flashlight, flicking it on and off to no avail. I smacked it against my hand a few times and suddenly it kicked back to life, flickering a few times before keeping a steady stream of light.

Cautiously I made my descent down the steep hill that led me to the side of the stream, trying my best not to lose my footing with the slick mud that had formed. Once I reached the bottom, I scanned my flashlight down to my right to see if there was anything near the water. I slowly focused the light onto the left side which happened to be under the bridge, noticing that I had, in fact, smelt wood being burnt. I walked over to the makeshift campfire, bending down on one knee to get closer to it. I could still feel heat emanating from it, which meant that someone had been there not long ago. There was a lot of garbage laying around, which wasn't unheard of, but I noticed there were also a lot of cans that looked as though they had been cut open with a knife. I picked up one of the cans, turning the label around to see that it had been peaches at one point. The expiry date wasn't for another few months. I tossed the can back onto the ground, once more searching underneath the bridge to see if there was anything else that would point me in the right direction. But there wasn't.

Defeated and tired, I made my way back up to the van. I almost slipped coming back up the slope, hitting my knees off of the mud and covering my jeans. Once I was back on level ground, I swiped as much of the mud from my clothing as possible but it was definitely going to need a good scrub before I put it in the washing machine. My dad always recommended club soda because his mother used to rely on it no matter what the stain was, and as far as he was concerned his mother had never been wrong. I opened the van door and slid into the drivers seat, staring over the dashboard at the red bridge in front of me.

"Where are you at?" I whispered to myself, placing my hand on the shifter.

"Always near," I heard a voice reply from behind me, causing me to scream at the top of my lungs as I shoved the door open, scrambling to get away. I heard her chuckle from inside, immediately causing me to take a deep breath as I collapsed onto the road. I wanted to scream out a number of profanities, but instead held my tongue. I could now see the outline of Mahala's figure as she sat in the back seat of my van, staring at me from the window.

I jumped to my feet and slid the door open with so much force that I thought I broke the door handle. "Get out of my vehicle right now," I said, motioning for her to move.

Her toothless smile greeted me in return, relaxing into the seat as if the vehicle was her own, kicking her feet up onto the back of my chair. "You've come to talk, yes?"

Once more I pointed away from myself to tell her to get out of my van, but she didn't even flinch. I sighed, turning around to scream internally before looking back to her. "Did you break into my friend's house?" I interrogated, but she simply looked at me like she didn't have the slightest clue as to what I was talking about. "Have you been hanging around my house? I have reason to believe that you have, and if that's the case, I need to know why."

She shrugged, pulling out a cigarette from some unknown location. It looked to be hand-rolled, using a match to light it. She took one puff of it before I leaned in and snatched it away from her, throwing it on the ground and stamping it out. "I'm not going to play these games with you anymore. You need to start talking," I demanded.

Mahala seemed less than enthused, staring down at my foot which now covered her cigarette. "That was my last one," She mumbled, flicking away the smoldering match. "My only one."

"You're in my van, lady, I don't care what it was."

"Why are you so mad? You're not mad at everyone else, are you?"

"I'm mad because you've attacked me three times and threatened my life."

Mahala paused, again shrugging at me as she sat forward, crossing her ankles over as she gently hopped out of the van, her bare feet smacking against the cold gravel. "This isn't what we're supposed to talk about."

She was about to walk away from me, but I quickly grabbed her by the arm, attempting to pull her back but with one glare from her I immediately let go. She straightened her dress for a moment, licking her lips as she took a gander at me. "You pay the price for the moments you take, you know," She said, contemplating something before letting out a deep sigh. "Cause and effect, tit for tat, up and down, left and right – so the story goes. Can you do that?"

"I don't understand. What price am I going to pay and what moments am I taking?" I replied, reaching over to slide my van door closed. The door slamming echoed throughout the woods nearby, causing a crow to squawk uneasily from its treetop.

"I'm not the teller," She muttered again, leaning down to pick up a stone from the ground as she examined it between her fingers, "I'm just here to put it back together."

"Put what back together?"

She stayed quiet for a moment, turning the stone around in her fingers before tossing it to the side, standing up to face me once more. "What you take apart."

I motioned for her to continue, but she seemed less than interested as she slowly began to put one foot in front of the other before twirling around delicately, her hips swaying gently to the side before straightening her shoulders, as if there was some sort of music playing that I couldn't hear. She came to a halt, her body motionless as she stared at me. "Sisters we may be, but I owe you nothing."

No matter how hard I tried I wasn't going to get any information from her, she was a puzzle with pieces from a hundred different sets. "Fine, if you don't want to talk about that, at least tell me how you know what I know."

"What do you know?" She said dreamily as she began to dance again, closing her eyes as she spun around a few times. Her movements were oddly melodic, almost like they were lulling me into a sleep that I hadn't realized I was craving.

"When people will die, don't act like you don't know."

She smiled as she continued to dance, raising her arms up above her head as she twirled them around before bringing them down once more. "I've always been able to see it, I can't remember a time in my life when I haven't. You know that I have, but how do you know that? Can you see the premonitions, too?" I asked.

With one quick spin, she almost reached out to grab me as if she was beckoning for me to join her, each movement more graceful than the last. "I see a lot of things, mostly things that need placing and sewing and rearranging."

"So you do see things – like the future?"

She paused, her movements stopping as though someone had turned off her batteries. "Yes," She answered monotonously.

"And is that why you broke into my friends house?"

She didn't reply. I balled my hands into fists, feeling the blood rush from them as I thought through my next question carefully. "Did you have to place something for Elaine?"

Still no reply. I felt like I was working with a ticking time bomb that was giving me so little to work with, all of the cords coloured the same. "Is there something I'm doing that you need to put back together?"

As if the song had ended, Mahala curtsied gently and smiled at me that sent shivers down my spine. "I'll be waiting here for what we're supposed to talk about," She concluded, turning away from me and walking around the van towards the slope. I followed after her, but realized that she wasn't going to tell me what I wanted to know.

"Wait," I said, and she looked over her shoulder at me, "at least tell me that you have this gift, too?"

She looked straight ahead, her shoulders tense as if she was holding her breath. She didn't bother to look back at me again, simply nodding her head yes.