Ashes to Ashes and Cinder to Cinder (4 page)

“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 of 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 filling the walls everywhere in such a water-splashy city,” Loki points out. “And speaking of walls, the houses are all 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 being accidentally burning by 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 and 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 girl 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 with 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 messed up and burns thing too.”

As I am talking, the authorities swarm 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 make me want to know you. I might—“

“—like me after all. I know.” I mumble as I drag him behind me, wondering why he’s become obedient out 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 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 before she killed 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 before they killed the witch.”

“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 said. “Now don’t you dare 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. The best I can do is pretend that truth is only retellings and twisted fairy tales.

“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 faces 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 came from suddenly. “I know you 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 out of a sudden. “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 it has been on fire. They are pulling her to the carriage to humiliate her and kill her. The reason why they have chained her is she can’t trigger fire at her will unless 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 back as Bianca screams on the ground.

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

“She is a witch too,” the other accuses me 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 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 worshipper 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 taunt him sarcastically. I think his attitude has gotten to me. Or maybe I am scared to fail at my mission.