Page 30 of Tear of Destiny

But Rosie’s already opening the door, and for a moment, I’m paralyzed.

In the room, I see a hospital bed and several medical devices beeping quietly. But my eyes are drawn to the person in the bed. She’s a little older, much paler – almost sallow. But I recognize her at once.

“Patricia,” I murmur, staring at the woman. “But how… how is this possible? She died.”

Rosie clicks her tongue and shakes her head. “No, she’s not quite dead. Just in a coma. The other guy was just as surprised as you.” She shifts her weight from one foot to the other then turns around and says, “I’ll leave you two alone. That’s what he wanted too. I’m sure you have things to talk about.”

This confuses me too, and I watch Rosie leave and close the door behind her. As soon as I’m alone with Patricia, I get a weird feeling. It’s strange being in here with her. With someone I assumed was dead. With someone Frida supposedly killed.

“So Frida didn’t do it,” I mutter quietly to myself. “Or at least she didn’t see it through. Whether intentionally or not, I guess I’ll never know.”

Did Charles bring her to this home? Rosie keeps talking about a man who came here recently. But then why would he looksurprised when he visited Patricia? No, it doesn’t add up.

I slowly approach the bed. Standing beside it, I look at Patricia for a long time and listen to the beeping machines she’s hooked up to.

“What happened to you?”

Once again, I’ve found a puzzle piece, but instead of bringing me closer to solving it, it just throws up more questions.

I slowly stretch out my hand and touch her arm. “I wish I knew what happened and what my great aunt did to you.”

Her skin feels warm and dry, like parchment. It’s strange to feel the warmth of this woman who until now was only a macabre story in the life of my great aunt.

I sigh and pull my hand back. And at that moment, her pale, waxy hand shoots out, grasps my arm, and holds me in its iron grip. I cry out in shock and try to jump back, but Patricia grasps me tightly, not giving an inch.

I stare at her hand and there’s only one thought in my mind: this can’t be happening. And it’s true because her arm is still lying on the bed, motionless and peaceful. But above it hovers another, transparent arm like that of a ghost – there’s no other way to express it.

“What… what?” I croak. This can’t be real! It just can’t be.

“So you found me,” says a rasping voice like something out of a horror movie. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and I wish I could command my eyes to stop staring at this thing in front of me. But they automatically swivel toward the voice and look Patricia right in the eyes. Her actual body is still lying there motionless, but a second, transparent version slowly sits up and looks at me. It’s like I’m watching her ghost leave her body.

“Oh my God,” I mutter in a panic, trying to pull my arm free.

“Ha, trying to leave already? Just when you’re so close to getting some answers?” Patricia looks at me with a chilly smilethat gives me goosebumps all over. “You actually look a bit like Frida. Has anyone ever told you that? I figured one of her descendants would show up here eventually. This means you’ve found her display wall and know the truth.”

I gulp, unable to utter a word.

“You know I’m a goddess of destiny,” she continues.

“A… a goddess of destiny,” I say, horrified.

Her eyes narrow into slits. I have to force myself to keep looking at her.

“That’s right.”

“So Frida was right,” I gasp. “When she tried to warn Charles that he’d been taken in by a goddess.”

“She got it wrong so many times. But even a blind hen finds the corn eventually. Yes, despite everything, my life changed completely that day. I wound up here in a coma, and I can’t wake up.” She runs her transparent hand over her reclining body. “Nothing I can do, even with my power. Although it’s been a long time since we goddesses were as powerful as our predecessors once were. But I guess you know that.”

I nod slowly. “Every time one of you dies an unnatural death and is reborn, your power is diminished.”

She nods again. “But that doesn’t keep us from continuing our work. This here,” she waves her hand in the air, “doesn’t stop me.”

I just keep staring at her, totally confused, at the same time trying to overcome this paralyzing fear. I’m standing beside a goddess of destiny, and I have no idea how powerful she is or whether she could be a threat to me.

“Oh, don’t be afraid. I can’t do anything to you – at least, not physically,” she continues, as if she can read my thoughts. “As you can see, my body is out of action. But my spirit is free, and with that, I can continue my work.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, alarmed. “Are yousaying you can still determine people’s destinies?”

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