“Guh…” I sputtered, trying to process what I’d just seen. How was that possible? The old man had been standingright there.He’d turned his head to look at me right before he’d been runover.
And yet there was no body on the asphalt. Not so much as a single finger. It was as if he’d never beenthere.
As traffic continued on like nothing had happened, I became vaguely aware that I was clutching something in my hand. Frowning, I looked down to see that I was still holding the man’s art supplies. Ha! Proof! He was totally real. The pencil in my left hand was solid, and the sketchpad in myright…
“What the…” I mumbled, my eyes going wide as I stared at it. I brought the cream paper closer to my face, certain that the light was playing a trick on me. Butno.
The sketch was of a Japanese woman in an elaboratekimonoembroidered with largesakurablossoms, her hair done up in an elaborate style that even ageishawould be envious of. That wouldn’t have been weird, except her face was a carbon copy of mine—my long-lashed, almond-shaped eyes, my small, slightly rounded nose, my wide cheekbones and square-shapedface.
Hell, even the tiny beauty mark at the corner of her left eye was identical to mine. Had this man been sketching me the whole time? But then why had he been looking out thewindow?
“Aika!” Janet’s high voice startled me out of my state of muddled confusion, and I turned to see her hurrying down the front steps of the café toward me. Her face was the picture of concern. “Are you okay? Whathappened?”
“I…” A glib response sprang to my lips, but it died instantly as Janet’s form flickered before my eyes. Instead of a young woman in her twenties, I was looking at a creature with sunken lips and eyes, leathery skin that looked like it belonged on a mummy, and an enormous distended belly that threatened to burst her orange uniform dress open. My mouth dropped open, and the image flickered away, replaced by Janet’s normal, prettyface.
“What are you staring at?” Her eyes narrowed, and a chill ran down my spine. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was looking at me withsuspicion.
“Nothing.” I pressed a hand against my stomach as nausea roiled in my gut. Why was I hallucinating? “I… I guess I don’t feelwell.”
Janet’s expression softened. “Of course. You’ve been super stressed. Go home and spend some time with your mom,” she said, and her face changed again, back to the leathery mummy. I choked down a scream as she reached out with an impossibly long, narrow arm and patted my shoulder with a stubby, four-fingered hand. “Make sure to get plenty of rest. We need you backtomorrow!”
“Y-yeah, sure,” I stammered. Janet turned around to go back in, and I swallowed at the sight of her long neck and bulbous head. Had I eaten something strange today? Had Shota put something weird in the sushi? A chill ran down my spine at the thought. What if he’d druggedme?
Don’t be ridiculous,I scolded myself. Shota wasn’t that kind of guy. Sure, we didn’t know each other that well, but I was a decent judge of character. Shota might want to buy my mom’s business, but that didn’t mean he’d resort to dirty tricks like this to get it. Besides, I hadn’t noticed anything off about the food he’d givenme.
Shaking my head, I went back inside, grabbed my stuff from the closet behind the bar, and headed out. Maybe Janet was right, and the stress was finally getting to me. A cup of tea and a good night’s sleep were all I needed, I assured myself firmly as I hopped onto mybicycle.
But as I pedaled up the narrow streets toward the apartment I shared with my mother, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something significant had happened to me this afternoon. And that the universe wasn’t quite done doling out surprises for meyet.
3
“This can’t be real,”I muttered as I stared at a cat-woman chatting on her cell phone across the street. No, not the Halle Berry Catwoman. That wouldn’t have been weird, not in SFO. This fine lady was dressed in a cardigan and jeans like a normal Jane, but she had the head of a calico cat and a matching tail waving behindher.
Did Halloween come early?I wondered. I supposed she could be wearing some kind of mask that covered her whole head, but I couldn’t figure out the waving tail thing. Was itanimatronic?
Blue eyes with cat-like pupils met mine from across the street as we both waited for the light to change. I gave her a weak smile, but her eyes narrowed in suspicion, just like Janet’s had earlier. Swallowing, I looked away, my heart hammering in my chest. What was goingon?
Oh crap,I thought as the light changed.You’re gonna have to pass her in thestreet.
Gripping my handlebars tight, I pedaled into the street and forced myself to look at the woman. I almost toppled off the bike as our gazes met again—her blue eyes were perfectly normal now, and there was no sign of a cat’s head or tail. My heart rate ratcheted up, and I pumped harder, wanting to get away before she changed back into acat.
A block and a half later, I forced myself to astop.
What is wrong with you?I scolded myself, leaning against a wall. My lungs burned like I’d run a marathon, even though I’d pedaled maybe three blocks total. My heart was trying to pummel its way out of my chest, my skin was clammy with sweat, and I feltfaint.
You’re not feeling well,I told myself firmly.You’re obviously hallucinating. Maybe you’ve caught some kind of weird bug.Yeah. That was it. Cat people didn’t exist, and neither did goblins, or whatever I’d seen when I’d looked at Janet. I was gonna go home and sleep off whatever this was so I could resume my lifetomorrow.
And if it turned out that Shota had given me a bad case of food poisoning, I was gonna rip him a new one the next time I sawhim.
Decided, I resumed the rest of the journey on foot, walking my bike alongside me. If I reallywashallucinating, I had no business steering any kind ofvehicle.
“You don’t want to do this,” a low male voice said, and I froze. Something about it was familiar, tugging at my chest like a long-lost ghost from the past. Turning to my left, I saw a tall, athletically built guy standing in the alleyway. He was confronting a masked girl in akimono, who was clutching akatana. For a moment I wondered if maybe she was akabukiperformer—Japanese theater performers were traditionally men, but times were changing—except thatkatanalooked wicked sharp. The sliver of sunlight that managed to filter in through the alley glinted off the edge of the blade, making the folded steelshimmer.
That’s definitely not a productionblade.
The woman let out a high-pitched giggle that caused the hair on my arms to rise. “Am I pretty?” she asked coyly in Japanese, canting her masked head to theside.
The man’s broad shoulders stiffened. “There’s no need to go down thisroute—”
