PANDORA

by Rebecca Hamilton

  "You can't? How come I can?"

  "If we knew that we wouldn't be flabbergasted by not only your obsessed-obsession, but your completely bitchin' manipulative powers, now would we, princess?" Martin locked eyes with Ruth.

  "Well, I won't do it!"

  Martin leered at Sara. "How do you think we're going to find out why Bartholomew is so interested in your sister? Clearly he can't get inside Toni and he's using Paul to find out why. And if he can't get in, I'm thinking you can't either. In fact, I'd bet my fangs on it. So I thought we'd try to pump Broom Hilda for-"

  "My sister is just a plain girl like me! I'll get inside her body, and prove it!" Sara said, heading for a wall out of the emergency room and into the parking lot.

  "Oh dear, another fiasco, Godbless'ermulishtemperaments."

  Chapter Five

  Officer Dan Delgado stepped out of his police vehicle and headed for the emergency room doors where a nurse was pushing an old man in a wheelchair.

  "Heard you got the knife victim from Wright's, over on Hawkins, Harriet—any family arrive yet?" Dan slid his fingers over his belt, tucked his hands into his pant pockets, rocked back on his heels, and gave Harriet a staggering view of a big glob of mustard, smack-dab in the middle of his portly stomach.

  "The mother and sister." Harriet pulled her eyes off the only thing that remained from Officer Dan's dinner, and passed off the old man to another nurse who was ushering patients back into the emergency waiting room. "They're in the conference room. The girl's still in autopsy—severed carotid artery. What a mess." Her gaze dropped to the dollop of mustard, lashes fluttered them back to Dan's face. "They should have a report for you at the ER desk."

  "What the hell happened here?" Dan fanned an arm around the parking lot of sickies and hospital personnel wandering towards the emergency room doors.

  "We had an incident in the lobby," Harriet said as she started for the doors, "a couple of high school kids. It got pretty verbal, and then it got physical."

  "Weapons?"

  "If you wanna count a few magazines. One of the security guys, Eddie, embellished a bit, said the magazines magically flew around the lobby while assaulting the young woman about the face and body. Probably the kid tossing them at his girlfriend—I heard her all the way back in 12 where I was starting an I.V. Anyway, the fight scared the hell out of everyone in the lobby and they bolted for the doors."

  "You want me to talk to the kids when I finish with the family?"

  "I'll let you know if we need you. Eddie has them in the back office. He's trying to contact their parents."

  "Hell, must be the full moon," Officer Dan chuckled, following Harriet into the emergency room lobby.

  ***

  In the conference room, Sara wiggled out of her mother's body for the second time, wrinkled her brow at Ruth and Martin and then flew through Toni, only to land in a discombobulated mess on the floor.

  "Will you just tell us what the lady with the horrific dye job said?" Martin huffed. "I mean, you've tried umpteen times to get inside your sister. It isn't working."

  "Shut up! I don't get it! I have to talk to my mother through Toni to figure it out. Mom totally shut down."

  "Can y'elaborate on the clarification you'll be needin', dear?" Ruth asked.

  "No!" Sara raised her arms over her head, tucked her ears between her elbows and dive-bombed her sister's face. She did a through-and-through, prone body ricocheting across the room and through the wall behind her mother, exiting out the other side.

  Officer Dan stepped through the door of the conference room with a compassionate smile, belly stretching his buttoned jacket.

  "Mrs. Farrell? I'm Dan Delgado from the Reed City Police Department. I'm sorry for your loss, ma'am. I just have a few questions for your daughter." Dan nodded toward Toni.

  Toni's mother turned tearful eyes on Dan. "They said my daughter killed herself. Sara wouldn't kill herself, never mind in a public place."

  "I understand, Ma'am. That's why I'm here." Dan sat down across the table from Toni and pulled out a small pad and pen from his shirt pocket. He laid the pad on the table and looked at her with concerned brown eyes. "Did you see your sister cut herself?"

  "She . . . she looked . . . I thought she was playing with the knife." Toni took a shaky breath. "We were meeting a couple of guys . . . and I didn't . . . I should have gotten up and followed her . . . She didn't like her date and . . . I, I ignored her attempts-" Toni started crying.

  Belle scooted her chair closer and put an arm around Toni. "Have you and your sister been talking to your grandmother about your eighteenth birthday?" Mrs. Farrell shot a side glance at Dan.

  With a furrowed brow, Toni asked, "Why would you ask me that at a time like this?"

  "What would her grandmother have to do with this?" Dan asked.

  "Huh? What? Nothing!" Mrs. Farrell tugged a lock of hair out of an oversized earring and tucked it behind her ear. With a shaky voice, she said, "My mother wanted Toni to start dating after her birthday, and I was..." She patted Toni's shoulder. "You're right, honey; I'm just ranting."

  Martin elbowed Ruth. "Her hair just pops doesn't it."

  Ruth cocked a brow but before she could scold, Sara came back through the wall wearing a scowl.

  "Why can't I do Toni like I did Jessica?" She grumbled and geared up for another pass.

  Martin blew an exasperated sigh. "Will you nix the ricocheting bullet game? Why don't you pontificate away about what Mommy dearest said in the same manner you've pontificated, well, everything else!" Martin floated gracefully to the table with one hand pointing at Mrs. Farrell.

  "Huh?" Sara's mouth fell open and her lower lip warped her chin.

  Martin stomped a foot through the table in front of Toni. "I'm gonna do a dive through if you don't fess up, girly."

  Ruth stood by the table next to Toni and clucked her tongue.

  At warp speed, Martin flew at Sara's mother. His head and arms balled up against her chest in a puff of smoke that wafted through her body and down the back of her chair. His ghostly image reformed and then bombarded Toni with the same results. "Well that was terribly uncomfortable," his voice echoed.

  "Blessyertediousinquisitiveness, it's not like y'aven't tried before, Martin," Ruth recapped.

  Officer Dan finished jotting on his pad and turned back to Toni. "Can you tell me exactly what happened? I know this is hard, but right now it's not clear if the young man with your sister had anything to do with her death."

  Toni shook her head. "The boy was barely paying attention to my sister."

  Martin reformed, fangs hanging over his lower lip as he glared at the back of Toni's head.

  Sara howled, "Stop sliming all over my family!"

  Martin turned angry eyes on Sara. "Well then start talking!"

  Sara pouted. "I couldn't communicate with my mother. She didn't even know I was inside her. I tried to talk through her like I did with Jessica, but I couldn't do that either. All I could do was listen to her thoughts. Mom was thinking about a really gross conversation she had with Gran." When Martin made angry animal noises, Sara blurted, "Gran knew I had sex—how could my grandmother know that? It's so gross!—and now I can't be . . . "

  "Can't be what, dear?" Ruth shook her head at Martin, whose mouth was in a smoky pre-verbal configuration.

  "Forget it!" Sara hooded her eyes and turned toward Toni who was still talking with the officer.

  "He never even touched the knife. He was trying to keep his distance, and I thought she was playing around because I was ignoring her."

  "So, you think your sister was play-acting with a steak knife?" Dan asked patiently.

  "Yes. I thought she was just trying to get my attention." Toni hiccupped a sob. "It had to be an accident."

  Sara buzzed around the table three times. "No it wasn't, you idiot! I was fighting for my life because . . . oh hell, this is so lame. It's crazier than my gran's neck fetish." Sara came to an abrupt stop in front of Dan, eyes wide and fing
er pointing. "Is that mustard on his shirt? Does anyone else see how disgusting that is?"

  Martin's fangs dropped and he slapped a hand over them.

  Ruth attempted to get Sara back on topic. "Y'say yer gran has a neck fixation, dear?"

  Martin waived his arm. "Personal hygiene and sexual peccadillos aside, sweetheart, did your mother's thoughts give you any clue why Bart is stalking your sister?"

  Sara's shoulders wafted up and back down. She seemed engrossed in the conversation at the table.

  "My sister met these two guys on the net and set up a date for us," Toni said. "The boys didn't know we were sisters."

  "What the hell do you mean, your sister set up a date from the Internet?" Mrs. Farrell asked, "I'm pulling the plug on that damn computer as soon as we get home. How could you let Sara talk you into such an idiotic idea?"

  "Typical, just blame it on the dead chick," Sara spat, glaring at her mother.

  "Teenagers," Martin rolled his eyes, "sooo dramatic."

  "Your mother's right," Officer Dan said softly. "There are predators on the Internet. Are you sure these boys didn't have something to do with the incident?"

  Toni covered tearing eyes with her palms.

  Officer Dan patted the back of her hand. "It's all right. Just tell us what happened."

  "I'll tell you what happened!" Sara yelled, and kept on yelling as she flashed in and out of Dan's body, "I died! That's what happened. And it didn't have a freakin' thing to do with the Internet!"

  "We don't know that, dear," Ruth informed her. "Why those contraptions-"

  "Look, you little pain in my flawless, gluteus extraordinaire," Martin groused, "you're dead—deal with it. Now start talking. What's up with your grandmother?"

  Sara sucked in a big breath, coughed it out and coasted across the room backwards. "Hey, did you see that? I floated myself backwards with smoke rings!" She puffed her cheeks up again but when Martin dropped his fangs and hissed, Sara said, "All right! Mom was wondering if Gran told me that I'd screwed myself out of the family gift. Supposedly, Toni's still in the running 'cause she hasn't had sex yet. Satisfied?"

  "And what gift would that be, dear?" Ruth encouraged her.

  Unaware of the other conversation in the room, Toni choked back a sob, breathed in, and said, "That's why when she started waving the knife around and then pulling it to her neck, I just figured she was working me. Until I saw all the blood—oh, Mom, this is all my fault." Toni started bawling again.

  "It's not your fault!" Sara howled. "Some possessive ghost named Bartholomew killed me, dammit! And stay the hell away from Paul because that's where he lives!"

  Dan stood up and addressed Mrs. Farrell, "Do you want to see your daughter tonight, Mrs. Farrell?"

  "I didn't want to see her, like..." Belle took a breath, closed her eyes, and rubbed her arms. "I've talked to the staff in the morgue. They're going to notify Golden Chapel in Reed City. I've requested an open casket and we should . . . "

  "Oh, hell no! Just what I was afraid of!" Sara tried to grab her mother by the hair, but her hands kept passing through Belle's head. "Come on! Can you say, 'cremation'? Whatever happened to the ashes to ashes thing? Oh, man, this is a friggin' nightmare! Who's doing my makeup? And who's picking out my clothes? It better not be her!" Smokey fingers passed through Belle's bad color job.

  "Maybe she'll pick out your skinny jeans and ass-kicking boots." Martin watched with amusement as Sara flitted around the room in a dither, mumbling incoherently.

  "Now, now Martin, a girl only gets buried once, she does, and maybe Sara can make some mental suggestions, she can."

  "Are you like some totally whacked-out space cadet, Ruth?" Sara wanted to know. "Did I not just say I couldn't communicate with my mother?"

  "Toni, do you know the names of the boys you met?" Dan asked, pen poised over his pad.

  "Who the hell cares what their names are?" Sara mumbled. "We have wardrobe issues, people!"

  "My date's name was Paul, but he didn't give me a last name," Toni said. "He goes to Ferris. He's a senior. I don't know the other boy's name."

  "I moved the magazines—I'll freakin' lay out my own clothes 'till they get the message!" Sara croaked. "I will not look like shit in my casket, dammit! I'll be wearing my . . . " Sara stopped her flitting and hovered in front of Martin. " . . . hey, if they do dress the cadaver in my skinny jeans, will I be able to wear them for the rest of my . . . um-"

  "I'm afraid not, dear," Ruth said. "But y'do look quite emaciated in that tight little skirt and pink sweater, y'do."

  "You know," Martin barked, "you could've been in the backseat of the MF'n cheater's car, butt-ass-"

  "Martin, blessyertainted'eart! Yer attention t'detail is a wee bit assaultin', and yer debauched prose adds disdainful clarity t'yer very vivid declarations, dear."

  "Well, she pisses me off," Martin replied with a smug smile.

  "Y'might find y'd get more from the little pisser with honey, stead-a vinegar, dear," Ruth suggested.

  "Yeah, and I'd draw more flies with shit, Ruth," Martin said. "What's your point?"

  "All I want is to get this clothes and makeup thing sorted out." Sara whipped around the room like a mini-tornado.

  "Well o'course y'do, dear, but we should 'ead over t'Paul's 'ouse first, we should." Ruth shot Martin a raised eyebrow.

  "Not going to happen, Ruth," Sara said.

  Dan put the pad and pen in his jacket pocket. "All right, you two go home and get some rest." He helped Mrs. Farrell to her feet. "I'll drop by the house in a few days to see if you can remember anything else, Toni, but right now, after hearing corroborating reports from a few witnesses, I feel this was a horrible accident, but we'll know for sure when the blood report comes in. In the meantime. If you think of anything you've missed or hear from either of these young men, please call me."

  Dan handed Mrs. Farrell a business card; and, staring through it, she passed it to Toni as they headed out of the conference room. Sara started after them.

  "Blessyervainlittle'eart, can y'give us a minute, dear? I think it's time y'enlighten us about granny's gift," Ruth tried. "I mean, saving yer sister from Bartholomew should be a priority, it should."

  Martin stared at Sara, hands on the back of his ass, foot tapping in and out of the tiled floor.

  Sara shook her head into a foggy cloud. "It doesn't make sense. Mom was more worried about Toni. Here I am dead, and all my mother can think about is if Toni will get the gift. Flashes of conversations with Gran went through my mother's mind too. Gran knew I'd had sex and Toni hasn't—tell me that's not weird—but they won't know about Toni's gift until after her eighteenth birthday—Ohmigod! My birthday is in twelve days and I'm gonna miss it!"

  Martin huffed. "What's the gift? You got a word, feeling, anything?"

  Ruth glanced another warning.

  Sara levitated three inches off the floor in front of the door, palms up. "Um, yeah, some neck fetish thing."

  "Neck fetish?" Martin's eye lids were stretching, words mocking. "Your sister might develop a neck fetish on her eighteenth birthday?"

  Sara warbled a mimic. "No, idiot. They used a term, like, you know, necrosomething; necrophilia, necromantic, necromancer. How lame is that?"

  "Oh dear, well, that sure explains everythin', it does." Ruth's fingers passed through her ears and covered half of her distraught facial expression.

  "What? What?" Sara asked.

  "Great! Just great! A necromancer," Martin croaked. "It's a no brainer—Toni's up for the gift or Bart wouldn't be following her."

  "Well, think positive, Martin. Ghost summonin' qualities could assist us with our own Bartholomew issues, it could." Ruth coyly nodded at Martin.

  "I need some answers!" Sara yelled.

  "Yeah, well, suck it up, honey," Martin groused.

  Chapter Six

  Bartholomew oozed out of Paul's body like a washed-out photograph and hovered in front of him. "I'm tired of being ignored! I've had enough of your mental bl
ocking! It's time to call Toni, Paul. I want you to arrange another meeting immediately." His ominous words hung in the air.

  "Yeah, well I'm tired of being your goddamned puppet." Paul paced the floor beside his bed. "I want out of this."

  "You know the consequences; I will put up with your disrespect no longer. Do what I have asked or you and your family will find yourselves in my realm of existence." Bartholomew wavered, as he wafted halfway between the walls separating Paul's bedroom from his sister's, face all glaring eyes and tight lips.

  He could hear Paddy's music blaring on the other side of the wall. The thought of Bartholomew entering her body made him shudder. He reluctantly pulled Toni's phone number out of his jeans and plucked the phone out of the charger next to his bed. He pushed his pillows against his headboard, sat down, and placed the phone beside him.

  "Who the hell are you, and where did you come from?" Paul asked, eyes playing over the numbers on the paper in his hand.

  Bartholomew floated to the edge of Paul's bed and studied him for a moment through transparent brown eyes. The ghost was dressed in only a soiled, tattered white cloth that wrapped around his waist, covering his thin legs to his knees. A pair of worn leather sandals adorned his feet. His long, brown hair hung in greasy, messy ringlets about his face and bare shoulders. The translucent skin on his body was pocked with scars and looked like dried-out leather.

  "I am Hebrew and a very old soul. Some thought I was decapitated, but I was actually flayed alive, my own skin placed in my hand as I was crucified by order of Astyages over two thousand years ago."

  "Well, if your actions as a ghost are any indication of what you were like when you were alive, I don't blame Astyages."

  "I'm not just a ghost; I'm a seer." Bartholomew smiled through swollen, cracked lips. "Do you know what a seer is?"

  Paul ran a hand through his hair. "I don't care."

  "Being a seer, I have the ability to see into the future, prophesize, and while dying, I was given a prophetic gift. Toni appeared to me dressed in the clothing of this century. Under her feet I saw a path of smooth rocks that led to me. Behind her, odd structures with small parcels of grass were fenced off. She walked away from the buildings and up the rock path to stand before me and gaze into my eyes. And in her eyes, I saw mine looking back at me. But more profoundly, I felt the pain of my own death the minute her eyes locked with mine."