I'm Not Who You Think I Am

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  By Felicitas Ivey

  Visit Harmony Ink Press

  Copyright

  I’m Not Who You Think I Am

  By Felicitas Ivey

  Mykayla van Wiernen’s summer starts out not with the bang she wanted, but with her parents announcing they’re sending her to stay with her Uncle Yushua in Boston while they go away to work on their marriage. She’d rather spend her time with her best friend Xiu, figuring out why she doesn’t feel much attraction toward anyone—boys or girls.

  It’s clear right away that something’s off with her uncle—his coworkers are odd, way too friendly, and refuse to leave him alone.

  But things get really messed up when a mysterious ancient being appears, claiming Mykayla is his reincarnated soul mate and is in danger from someone called the Shadow Pharaoh. She finds herself caught up in a war between Egyptian deities—alongside a pushy jerk who doesn’t understand personal boundaries.

  This is for Betty, who was so excited I wrote this novel after how dreadful the first six months of 2017 were for all of us.

  Acknowledgments

  THANK YOU to Anne and Harmony Ink for publishing this book. Much thanks for Dawn and her dealing with my odd schedule. Pat and Jo, thank you for dealing with my edits and notes. Thanks to Jaime, for putting up with my last minute changes.

  Thanks to my family and friends for all their support while writing this, to Ed for betaing and giving me feedback, to Tim, who didn’t know what I was talking about most of the time but nodded a lot like he did, and to Tamazusa, Mason, and Phoenix for putting up with fighting the iBook for lap time.

  Chapter One

  I STRETCHED as soon as the train pulled into the station. It’d been a long ride from New York City, because for no apparent reason, Amtrak decided to stop for an hour just past the station in Danbury. Just one of a long line of delays in my trip. Luckily I wasn’t too much behind schedule, or Uncle Yushua would be worried. I’d wanted to call him, but Mother hadn’t given me his number, and neither parent was answering their phone, so I couldn’t ask them. I’d have been worried that they were in some sort of trouble, but I had the impression they were just avoiding talking to me.

  I worked the kinks out of my body, waiting for the rest of the passengers to clear out. This was the last stop for the train, so people were taking their time getting off. I gathered up my things, placing them in my purse, and tidied the area I had been camping out in for the last several hours. Once I finished flexing, I took the time to look up Uncle Yushua’s address and see how far he was away from South Station. Thankfully he wasn’t far, only a couple of minutes’ walk at a brisk pace.

  I grabbed my backpack from the overhead bin and settled it on my back before getting my purse. I had knitted it over the winter break, and it looked like an undersized carpetbag. But the important thing was that I could fit a whole lot of stuff in it. I put on my hat and was ready to go when one of the porters stopped to check on me.

  “Are you going to be all right, miss?” he asked me, looking worried. “It’s late.”

  He was in his fifties, maybe. I never could figure these things out. He’d been keeping an eye on me since we left Penn Station in New York. Not in a creepy way, but more like to make sure no one acted weird with me.

  “It’s barely ten at night,” I protested, even though I felt like I’d been awake for days. “I’m a New York City girl. The night’s just starting then. I’m going to be fine.”

  “Girl is the right word,” he scolded.

  “I’m old enough to travel alone.” That was a lie, since I wouldn’t be sixteen until the end of the summer. I needed to have someone meet me, as an unaccompanied minor. “And it’s not like my parents don’t know where I am.”

  My voice trembled a little at the word parents, but that issue was one I was going to shove into the back of my mind until I had time and privacy to deal with it.

  I smiled at my protector, who thankfully ignored the quiver in my voice earlier. “Where I’m going is, like, five minutes away. I promise I’ll stick to well-lit streets and be very aware of my surroundings.”

  I wasn’t going to tell him as soon as I hit thirteen my parents had decided I could go a lot of places by myself on the train, no matter what time of night it was. I’d take a taxi once in a while, but those guys made me more nervous than traveling in a crowded train car did. The back of a taxi felt like a very vulnerable place to me, because the driver was in control and the plastic screen between the two of you could trap you as well as protect you.

  “Are you sure you don’t need a taxi?” he asked. “If it’s a matter of money….”

  I shook my head. Money was never an issue with my parents, and I don’t think they ever checked what I was using my credit card for. Well, maybe my yarn shopping, because… well because. Knitting took time away from studying or something like that. I was very careful to keep my hoard limited to a small plastic storage container in the back of my closet, and that kept the peace.

  “I’m going to the Leather District,” I said. “According to the directions on my phone, it’s not more than a half mile away. I’ve been cooped up on this train for hours, so I want to walk around for a bit.”

  He frowned, so I lifted my foot a little. “See, sensible shoes for running.”

  The flat ballet-slipper–style shoes had been hidden by my long skirt. I wasn’t going for style points here, and I didn’t need heels because I was tall. My long-sleeve, red tunic was comfortable and loose and fell to midthigh. I thought I looked all right. But my best friend, Xiu, always told me I was never going to be a fashion plate. It might have been the hat that was causing him trouble. It had a wide brim to protect me from the sun and was one of my earliest knitting projects. Knit roses, most in colors not found in nature, were scattered around the crown and brim. It was a sight and I loved it.

  “Are you going to be all right?” he asked. “You look tired.”

  “Tired” was being nice. I looked like a wreck, but it had been a long day for me. A long, horrible day, but I wasn’t going to unload my trouble on a stranger. It seemed too much like therapy.

  A couple other people were going through the train to clean it and looked upset we were in the way.

  “Thanks for worrying,” I said. “It means a lot more than you think.”

  With that I slipped around him, wanting to get to my uncle’s place and just stop moving. Maybe even fall apart a little. I swear I’d been trapped in this train since the beginning of time.

  I strode through South Station, heading toward the exit for the post office, the one closest to the Leather District. I walked fast and looked like I knew where I was going. It worked because people just got out of my way. Before I left the building, I checked my phone’s map, and now I concentrated on keeping an eye out for traffic. I’d heard how crazy Boston drivers were and didn’t want to become a smear on someone’s bumper.

  There were some people walking around but not a lot. For a Monday night, it was really quiet. There was the smell of the ocean, and a stiff breeze
to threaten my hat, but the thing was firmly on my head and heavy enough to disregard it. There was the faint scent of Italian cooking too, and my stomach grumbled at the thought of food. I hadn’t eaten a lot the last couple of days, and it was catching up with me. I ignored it, keeping an eye out for weirdoes.

  I walked fast, and in about five minutes I got to Uncle Yushua’s. His home was a converted old factory and didn’t look friendly. I checked the address twice before I looked for his name on the doorplate and rang the bell next to it.

  “Can I help you?”

  The voice over the intercom was male, but it didn’t sound like Uncle Yushua. Did I have the right place?

  “Is there anyone there?”

  “Um… Uncle Yushua?” I sounded tired and frightened and I hated it. I took a deep breath and continued, strengthening my voice. “Is this Yushua Rostami’s residence?”

  There was silence, the intercom clicking off. I practiced deep breathing and resisted the urge to start searching on the internet for hotels, while also watching the street for strangers. Not that I was actually old enough to rent a room, but I wasn’t sleeping on the streets either. Calling my parents had been a waste of time for me today, so I knew I wasn’t going to get much help from them. That thought made my stomach hurt. Or the hurt might have been because I really hadn’t eaten enough for a couple of days. The wait seemed endless, but it was probably less than a minute before the intercom crackled to life.

  “Mykayla?”

  “Uncle Yushua? You sound different than when you’re on the phone,” I said. “I thought you’d sound the same since it’s almost the same tech.”

  The door buzzed, and I pushed it open fast, before he changed his mind. Uncle Yushua’s two-story loft entrance was on the third floor, from what I was told. I’d never been here before, since he came down to us when he visited for holidays. My parents always claimed they were “too busy” to travel up to Boston and visit him.

  I knocked on the door and was surprised when a strange man opened it.

  The man was a little taller than I was, but built, looking like he could haul a tank or something. His dark hair was buzzed short on the sides but gelled and long on the top. He was tanned the color of amber, which made his pale gray eyes stand out. He wore dorm pants and a T-shirt with a faded picture of an old band on it.

  “I don’t think I have the right place,” I said, stepping back out of grabbing range.

  “Your uncle’s inside.” His accent sounded Midwestern.

  “I’m not walking in there until I see him,” I said. “How dumb do you think I am?”

  “You are wearing that hat,” he drawled.

  “And that comment is making me feel so much better,” I said, moving toward the stairs. I’d find someplace else to stay, even if I had to camp out in the nearest hotel’s lobby.

  “Stop being such a worrywart,” Uncle Yushua said, peering around him. “That’s my niece. Let her in, Rat.”

  Rat half turned, keeping an eye on me while talking to him. “You sure? You didn’t mention she was coming.”

  “I didn’t know,” Uncle Yushua said. “Mykayla, is there anything wrong?”

  “Didn’t Mother call you?” I quivered. “She said….”

  I hated myself, but I started crying then. I’d spent the last couple of days feeling like if I said or did the wrong thing, my world was going to shatter more than it already had. I spent most of it in my room, splitting the time between packing and talking to Xiu about what was happening. Her parents had invited me over for the summer, but Mother insisted I needed to go up to Uncle Yushua’s.

  Rat looked at me and then stepped aside, letting me into the condo. I dropped my bag inside the door, trying to control my tears. My parents had always told me tears weren’t attractive, so crying in public was an embarrassment. And one should never be embarrassing in public.

  “Didn’t tell me what?” Uncle Yushua asked kindly.

  “I’m supposed to spend a couple of days with you, while my parents reevaluate the state of their marriage.” I sniffed. Maybe more than a couple of days, but I wanted to ease into that conversation if he didn’t know I was supposed to be here in the first place. “Um…. Could I…. Where’s the bathroom?”

  I needed to go, because the ones on the train usually were disgusting, and I hadn’t wanted to drag all my stuff in one to use it. Also I wanted a couple of minutes to get my head together in privacy. A weeping niece wasn’t the best thing to get this late at night.

  “There’s one next to the kitchen,” Uncle Yushua said. “Just go left and you’ll find it.”

  He didn’t look happy. Actually he looked exhausted. Rat seemed annoyed, and I wondered if I’d interrupted a date or something, since Uncle Yushua was in a caftan and Rat was wearing what he was. They both looked like they were ready for bed.

  I slipped off my backpack and my hat before walking down the hallway to find the bathroom. I shut the door firmly, taking deep breaths until I got my tears under control. I could cry later. I did my thing and washed my hands and face. I fished my phone out of my skirt pocket and called Xiu.

  “I got here,” I said softly when she answered the phone.

  “Good. I was getting worried, though you texted me about the delay,” she said. “How are you doing?”

  She’d been asking me that most of the weekend, and I gave her the same answer I’d told her a dozen times before. “Numb. When I start processing it, you’ll be the first to know.”

  She was always the first to know about any sort of crisis in my life, because she’d been my best friend since grade school.

  Xiu talked like that, using the words process and experiencing and other adult, formal words in conversation. Stuff like that coming from a six-year-old had been impressive and frightening at the same time. She was finally growing into her vocabulary.

  Xiu was brilliant, excelling in all her classes, and always working on a dozen things at once, because she was also a little scattered, wanting never to be bored.

  “You’re going to need to talk to someone, because bottling it up inside of you isn’t healthy.”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” I promised.

  “Repeat that in Mandarin,” she instructed. “We need to keep using the language, or we’re going to forget it.”

  “You can talk to your grandmother,” I said.

  “But you can’t, so please repeat that.”

  I did so and then hung up. Xiu could be a bit bossy, even if she was right. I straightened up, walked out of the bathroom, and discovered there was another man in the house with Uncle Yushua and Rat. So it hadn’t been a date? Or were they all dating each other?

  This man was washed-out. That was the only thing I could think of. He was tall and pale blond, with pale blue eyes. He looked so white, he should have sparkled or glowed or something. The only thing that stood out as a color on him were the dark circles under his eyes. He was also in dorm pants and a ratty T-shirt. His seemed to be for a tourist spot in Maine.

  “Um….”

  “My name’s Harper,” he said. His voice was low and a little raspy, like he smoked too much.

  Rat popped up out of nowhere and demanded, “You haven’t eaten, have you?”

  “I had a couple granola bars on the train,” I said in a tiny voice, like I should be ashamed of eating them and not a home-cooked meal.

  Off in the distance I heard Uncle Yushua talking. He didn’t sound happy, so I bet he was talking to Mother. I caught him saying sharply, “No, you didn’t….”

  “Let him feed you or Rat will be fretting all night,” Harper said.

  “Rat?” I asked. What kind of nickname was that? “Were you born in the year of the Rat? My friend Xiu’s really into that stuff. She finds Western and Eastern astrology fascinating.”

  I was babbling now, nervous and trying not to feel like I was a burden.

  “That’s who you were talking to in the bathroom?” Harper asked.

  “She wanted to know when I
got here, since she was worried, so I called,” I explained.

  “Your parents don’t sound too worried,” Harper said dryly.

  “You don’t need to call them now,” Rat frowned, listening to my uncle’s side of the conversation. “Josh’s doing it for you.”

  I wondered who Josh was for a second and then realized it was my uncle. Josh was the short version of his name in English.

  “I was going to call them next,” I explained. I’d called Xiu first because I knew she’d answer the phone and I needed to hear a friendly voice. I’d been leaving messages with my parents since I’d left the house this morning. Surprise, surprise, Uncle Yushua managed to get hold of them just fine. I wanted to scream out my frustration that they were willing to talk to him and not me.

  “So you don’t have to hear him yelling, let me make you an omelet,” Rat said, looking me up and down, not like he was checking me out or anything weird like that, because he was at least twice my age, from the lines around his eyes. He just seemed to do it automatically, like evaluating someone was second nature to him. “You’re not on a diet or anything like that?”

  I hated that because I was skinny, people thought I was on some sort of weird starvation diet, obsessed with my weight. I was an active teenager, one who didn’t eat a lot of sweets or junk food. My parents didn’t believe in it.

  “I don’t diet and I don’t have any food allergies,” I said. “I’ll eat almost anything you put in front of me.”

  Picky eating wasn’t something my parents encouraged in either my two older brothers or me. They were a lot older then I was. The twins, Ezra and Hoshea, had graduated from college last year and were in grad school. I don’t know if our parents had talked to them about their “reevaluation” plans or not.

  “You a runner?” he asked as he headed into the kitchen. “You got the look.”

  The kitchen was big, with an island separating the cooking and eating areas. The counters were dark granite, cabinets were light wood, and the floor a dark wood. The fridge and stove were black. The dining room table was covered with papers, and I wondered where I was supposed to sit. I walked around the island and discovered a couple of stools. I sat on one of them, tired and worn out.