The Girl Between Two Worlds Read online

  THE GIRL BETWEEN

  TWO WORLDS

  KRISTYN MASLOG-LEVIS

  THE GIRL BETWEEN TWO WORLDS

  by Kristyn Maslog-Levis

  Copyright to this digital edition © 2016 by

  Kristyn Maslog-Levis

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any

  means without the written permission of the copyright owner and the publisher.

  Published and exclusively distributed by

  ANVIL PUBLISHING, INC.

  7th Floor Quad Alpha Centrum

  125 Pioneer Street, Mandaluyong City 1550 Philippines

  Telephones: (632) 477-4752, 477-4755 to 57

  Fax: (632) 747-1622

  www.anvilpublishing.com

  Book design by Dani Hernandez (cover) and Joshene Bersales (interior)

  Illustrations by Marrow Jerry Cabodel

  ISBN 9786214200306 (e-book)

  Version 1.0.1

  For Inara,

  when she is old enough

  Engkantos are forest spirits that appear in human form. People have believed in their existence for centuries.

  When you walk in the forest, say “tabi apo” (excuse me) lest you kick an Engkanto sitting on the path.

  Offer something to the Engkanto before you cut a tree so you do not get slapped.

  When you cannot find your way home and the road seems to change, wear your shirt inside out to appease the Engkanto.

  Never fall in love with an Engkanto. It will take you to their kingdom and you can never return.

  Chapter One

  June 2015

  T he creature was outside the house. Flapping batlike wings. Trying to find a way in. I dropped to the floor and started crawling to the window, hoping it wouldn’t spot me. If it was a dangerous thing that I had managed to attract, then I needed to do something to stop it.

  It was so close to the window that I inhaled a whiff of rotting meat. The full moon illuminated the creature as it flew past. I froze and looked up in time to see a pair of red eyes staring at me from the other side of the window. There was a collective gasp from my friends. It was definitely not a bat. There was a faint trace of a human figure—no, the upper half of a human figure with bat wings the size of a sail.

  It defied all rational explanation. Despite being cut in half, the monstrous creature was flying in the middle of suburban San Francisco. Its entrails were hanging out of its body. There was nothing where its lower half should be.

  There were books I had read about scary folklore when I was a little girl in the Philippines. Creatures that could split their bodies into two. The upper half—head, torso, and arms—would fly across the night sky and hunt for babies to eat, while the lower half remained on the ground. Right now, I desperately wanted to believe those stories were just products of eccentric writers trying to scare little girls and boys. But it looked like they were true sightings.

  The creature looked female with long dark hair and pale skin. But what scared me the most was its face. The red eyes bulged and glowed in the dark, like a crocodile sneering at its prey. Its face was like a wolf’s snout skinned down and dripping with blood. Its teeth were like broken glass and its tongue was a meter long and several inches wide. It was wearing a white blouse covered in blood. Was the blouse a part of its disguise during the day so it could blend in with the humans?

  I could not move from my spot. None of us said anything, afraid to breathe, shaking in fear. I knew immediately I was in big trouble because I had no idea how to overpower this creature. I was not even sure if it was what I thought it was. I was warned that dark beings would try to kill me, but this monstrosity was more grotesque than what I had imagined.

  There was nothing in the room that could be used as a weapon. The creature outside was becoming more aggressive. It was trailing its claws on the walls. We could hear the screech of its nails against the bricks. It was taunting us.

  A whip slammed through the windows, pushing it open. We staggered away, half crawling, half stumbling to the other end of the room. The whip sliced through the blinds, except that it was not really a whip. It was the thing’s tongue, stretching longer and longer, trying to reach us.

  A thought entered my head, as clear as daylight: I was going to die tonight.

  Chapter Two

  San Francisco Tribune, May 2012

  New Migrant Goes Missing

  The disappearance of new migrant from the Philippines, Marie Harris, from her home in San Jose has left authorities baffled.

  Initial investigation has revealed no evidence of forced entry to the home she shares with her Australian husband and daughter. According to a police spokesperson, Harris arrived in her home on the May 24 and had dinner with the family before heading off to bed. When her husband woke up, Harris was not in the bed or in the house. Her wallet, phone, car and house keys, and clothes were all found in the same place she left them the night before. All the windows and doors were still locked and there was no sign of footprints surrounding the house.

  Sniffer dogs were used to track her down but without success. The family’s neighbors say they didn’t hear or see anything that night. Harris arrived in California only weeks before her disappearance. The police are asking anyone with information to come forward by calling the Crime Stoppers hotline 1300-333-000.

  June 2015

  M y name is Karina Harris and I had had the worst couple of months of my life.

  I lived a quiet life. No monsters with batlike wings ever followed me around. I didn’t even have a pet.

  That creature with the wide tongue and half a body was never part of my life. No creatures were ever part of my life.

  Let me start from the beginning—the night before my sixteenth birthday.

  I dreamt of Mama. I knew it was a dream because Mama was with me. Not missing nor dead, like the police believed.

  In the dream, she was with other people in a place I had never seen before. It was hazy but I could make out the gray concrete floor and chipped bricks surrounding them. I couldn’t see much of anything else. I was shaking. It felt like I had just seen something I wasn’t supposed to see. Mama looked at me. Suddenly, we were back in the house.

  She was telling me they had decided to give me a car. I was jumping and hugging them, so ecstatic to have both my parents there. But Mama started fading—her feet turned to dust, blown away by an invisible wind. Her legs disappeared, then her arms, until nothing was left of her. I tried to scream for her to come back but I couldn’t speak. I woke up, sweat trickling down my face, my heart pumping so hard it felt like my chest was going to explode.

  I clutched my necklace in the dark. It was a simple leather string with a small red rock pendant. It was the last thing Mama gave me before she disappeared.

  “No matter what happens, never take this off. Ever. Do you understand me?” Mama instructed me, wearing the most serious look I had ever seen on her face.

  “I promise, Mama. But you’re scaring me,” I answered.

  “I’m sorry, Karina. Don’t be scared. It’s just important for me to know that you will carry this with you always.”

  She kissed me goodnight then left the room. It was the last time I saw her. I had never taken the necklace off, not even once.

  Looking in the mirror that morning, I saw myself as the splitting image of Mama. The same brown hair and light brown eyes that turned hazel when light hit it. When I smiled, it was Mama’s smile that stared back at me. Dad even said that sometimes when I get annoyed and raise my eyebrow, I looked exactly like Mama.

  I was heading for the shower when my window opened with a bang, making me jump. And then I heard it, the faint sound of h
er voice.

  “You look beautiful, Karina.” I looked in the mirror and saw Mama in her nightdress. It was the same one she wore the night she disappeared. I turned but there was no one there. I looked in the mirror again but she was gone.

  I thought I had gone crazy, that my mind was playing tricks on me. It had been three years since we migrated to the United States. It had also been three years since Mama vanished into thin air. The police had given up hope finding her. Their investigation ended nowhere. They tried pinning it on Dad for a while. They made it seem like he was some weird Australian guy who impregnated an Asian woman just for the heck of it. But with no evidence to back their allegations, they had to let him go.

  Dad insisted I throw a party for my birthday. Maybe he thought a party would distance me from the infamy of Mama’s case. I knew he did not want me to know about it but I had seen him on the computer every night. His browsers were opened to missing persons’ websites and forums. He had hired a private investigator recommended by some of the people he met online. He had not given up hope and that gave me some comfort.

  Where was I? Oh yes, the monster. I really thought I was a goner then. You would, too, if you saw and smelled that disgusting tongue inches from your face.

  Before it could reach us, a bright light shone from outside. The thing turned around and let out a screech. I could smell its burning flesh as it quickly flew away, smacking against a few branches.

  My best friends, Mark and Alyssa, let out a huge sigh of relief. We quickly looked out the window to see where the light came from. I caught a glimpse of my grandfather disappearing into the night like a true superhero.

  It was funny how only a couple of weeks ago I did not even know my grandfather was alive. Lolo saved us but he might as well be a stranger. I only met him after I turned sixteen. He showed up at my door the same day my powers emerged.

  It was the morning after my birthday party. I was happy to have just my best friends there, Mark and Alyssa. I didn’t want a big party. It wasn’t like I didn’t have any friends or I hated everyone. It was just that Mama’s case had followed me everywhere, especially at school. I had only been going to Rose Garden Private for a couple of weeks when Mama disappeared. They treated me differently after that, like I was a leper. Like my sorrow was contagious. I knew what they said behind my back. Stories had circulated and changed over the years mainly because of the lack of conclusive evidence as to what really happened.

  Some kids said she was a prostitute in the Philippines and that she ran off with a rich Australian businessman. Some stories said she had psychological problems and was kicked out of the country. Others believed my father killed her and buried her in our yard while I was sleeping. Hanging out with those kids was not my idea of fun on my birthday.

  The house was quiet the morning after the party. No parents with their coffees and Sunday papers. I heard a beep and looked at my phone. It continued to buzz but it was an unfamiliar number.

  “Hello, Karina speaking.”

  I heard a buzzing sound at the other end, and nothing else. For a moment, I thought it was a wrong number. But then a man’s voice came through, solid and authoritative, like the voice of a commanding officer in one of those war shows on TV.

  “Karina? Is that you?”

  “Yes. Who is this, please?”

  “This is your grandfather.”

  “Knoppy?” I asked, thinking it was a long-distance phone call from my father’s dad in Australia.

  “No. This is your Lolo, your mama’s father.”

  I froze. Mama always said my Lolo died a long time ago. Was I getting a call from the grave? My heart raced as fear gripped my body. I sat down, not trusting my feet to hold my body up.

  “It can’t be. Mama said you died a long time ago. Are you … dead?” It was a ridiculous thing to ask, but I had to. Could ghosts use mobile phones?

  “No, I’m not, little one. I just arrived from a long journey and now I’m here to see you. I will see you very soon.”

  The line went dead. I had always wondered why Mama never talked about her family. I had never met a single relative on my mother’s side and I never questioned that.

  She said she ran away from home after her parents died and that she didn’t have many relatives growing up. Mama said there was a huge fight and she was afraid something bad would happen to her so she ran away. Every time she told me the story, she would make them all sound so horrible that I used to pray as a kid that they never find us. Sometimes I imagined my grandparents were spies and Mama had to run away to protect their identities.

  I had all these thoughts swirling in my head when I saw the yellow flowers Dad bought for my birthday. Yellow flowers always cheered me up. It was a shame that some of them were already wilting.

  I touched a yellow rose that had started to go brown. Slowly, the brown parts changed color, firming up to my touch and becoming golden yellow again. I pulled my hand away and quickly stood, knocking the chair down in the process.

  The healthy yellow rose was wilting just a minute ago. Now it stood straight in the center of the vase, fresh and vibrant. I touched another flower that was starting to go brown in the edges but nothing happened. I started touching all of the flowers—still nothing.

  But I knew it happened.

  That was how it all began. I turned sixteen, Lolo called, and then the yellow flower came back to life.

  That was how I got myself into trouble.

  I was instructed not to use my new abilities outside of our home because of the possibility that our enemies would sense me. I didn’t listen. Whoever they were, they tracked down where Alyssa lived. I shuddered at the thought of what the monster could have done to us had Lolo not arrived in time. I knew Lolo would tell Dad what happened. No amount of grounding would make me feel as bad as I felt.

  After the attack, we locked the windows and drew the curtains, seeing the traces of claws against the wall outside. I walked back to the bed where Mark and Alyssa were huddled under the blanket, staring at me with wide eyes.

  “What was that?” Alyssa whispered in the dark.

  “I’m not too sure, but I have a feeling I’m going to be getting some really bad news when I get home tomorrow,” I said, still whispering.

  “That looked like the ugliest vampire I’ve ever seen,” Mark said, moving closer to us.

  We all tried to go back to sleep. No one talked after that. We were all frightened by the vision we saw outside the window. Minutes later, Mark moved his sleeping bag closer to our bed. We continued to stare at the ceiling, waiting for the sun to come out. We drifted in and out of sleep. We woke up every time one of us moved, scared that the monster was outside the window again.

  Life just got more dangerous. I had to be more careful, more responsible. That incident had made it clear that I would be responsible for more than just myself.

  Chapter Three

  San Francisco Tribune, June 2012

  Husband of Missing Migrant Arrested

  The police have arrested the husband of the Filipino migrant who went missing last month, shortly after arriving in California.

  Marie Harris left no clues behind when she suddenly disappeared from her San Jose home. Her husband has been taken into custody as the primary suspect.

  The police are refusing to comment whether they have evidence against Harris’s Australian husband. Last month, the case baffled authorities as they found no trace of Harris leaving the house the night she disappeared. They are asking anyone with information to come forward by contacting the Crime Stoppers hotline.

  June 2015

  T he first time I realized I had abilities, I tried making it happen again. I remembered what I was thinking before I touched the flower. I was thinking that it was sad that such a pretty flower was dying so soon. I felt an intense desire to make it pretty again but at the same time I felt sad I couldn’t do anything to bring it back to life.

  I leaned closer to the vase. I looked for the sorriest flower in the
bunch and saw a limping yellow gerbera. I took a deep breath and thought about how much I wanted the flower to be pretty again. I pictured how I wanted it to look in my head and slowly touched its bowing stem. The flower started to lift, the stem turning greener and slowly firming up. Fresh color spread to the petals, like ink spilled on paper.

  I took the flower out of the vase and stared at it. The yellow gerbera looked like it had been freshly picked from the ground.

  At the back of my mind, I knew it was just the beginning of something bigger. The first thing I did was go to Mark’s place with Alyssa to figure things out.

  “This better be good,” said a very cranky Mark when I called him.

  “Alyssa and I are outside. We have pancakes. Come down and let us in.” I heard Mark grunt before the line went dead. He loved sleeping in.

  I heard footsteps from inside the house, and Mark opened the door. He was still in his pajamas, his hair sticking up on one side and flat on the other. Despite my nervous post-birthday morning, I couldn’t help but laugh. Alyssa also burst out laughing as we entered the hallway leading to his room.

  “Shut up, Mom’s still sleeping,” he whispered.

  Mark’s mom was so used to having us in the house that she didn’t really care how often we dropped by, even when it was unannounced. I think she was hoping one of us would end up as her son’s girlfriend. But the thought of Mark having romantic feelings for me or Alyssa sent chills down my spine. It wasn’t like he’s ugly. As a matter of fact, I knew some of the girls at school had a crush on him. But Mark was like my long lost brother, and that was how I’d always see him. He’d been my sidekick ever since I arrived in San Jose.

  Mark was a dorky version of the nasty brother in The Vampire Diaries. He had the potential of becoming a hunk, but somehow he was missing an ingredient—coordination. He was a big klutz and totally hopeless at sports or anything close to physical movement. His superpower was his brain. Mark was a genius, although not a lot of people knew about it. I liked him because he was the only one I knew who could top my addiction to books. He was someone who understood why hanging out in secondhand bookstores was better than going to the mall.