After Hope Dies

by Lilly Haraden

  That creature pulled her soul from her throat. That creature rebirthed her into this world. What more does it want from her now?

  Janelle crumples against the wall but Dani is there to sweep her up. The woman cups the child’s face between her hands but Jan just shakes her golden hair into a thunderstorm. ‘I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to.’

  ‘Bax won’t let anything happen to you.’

  ‘That monster killed me, Dani. He killed me…’

  Dani replies, calm and low. ‘No, Jan. I don’t think he did. From what you told us, it may be the case that he was scavenging. Waiting. I don’t think he wanted to kill you. If he did, you wouldn’t be alive now, would you?’

  ‘H-How do you know?’

  Dani shakes her head. ‘I don’t, not for certain. But what I do know is this: if Baxter says you’re in safe hands, you’re in safe hands. This won’t be the first time he’s helped someone out. Trust me.’ Dani smiles deep. Jan feels her heart lighten just a little. It is enough. She could get used to having other people take care of her problems, Permission or no. So the girl nods and breathes unsteady and moves to the peeping window of the stage. Dares to peek out a little view of the situation but, as usual, seeing the audience from way back here is impossible with the light. Jan feels a hand press on her shoulder but the fear starts to rise…

  Trust in Dani. Trust in her, at least.

  She stumbles through the curtain. Heart on fire. Alone now. Curtain closed behind her. A runway of stage lights ahead guides her through the empty space. Jan takes the lane and walks to the very end where a strong pole stands rooted to the earth. Thick silence. And then, the darkness fades to light all around. There’s the bar. There’s the monster like an oil-stain, those red eyes lit up like planets but, see, the creature is so very still. Watching her. Motionless. Oh my God...

  But remember, Jan – he technically didn’t kill you. He saved you. Really, you owe this creature your life. At the very least, a little shake of those tight hips, right?

  Janelle reaches out for the pole and feels the cool brass on her palm. Absentminded, girl smoothes out her school uniform (she’s never had to dance in this before, although she guesses the overall effect would be appealing to some people). Ah. See? Our monster seems to perk up, patient. Is it waiting for her? And who is that figure – that black freak – on the other end of the bar, leaning over the serving table like a man who’s been there for far too long. How long, in fact?

  The stage is set.

  Little Janelle’s heart skips a beat as the music roars to life. She knows this one well, an oldie but a goodie called ‘Sticks and Horses’.

  Can she really dance with that thing watching her? Will it really stay put?

  Schoolgirl breathes deep and begins her routine as the music pounds to life. Shaky at first with nerves messing up her moves, her lead feet no longer graceful. Jan does a half turn around the pole, squats and runs her back up along the brass. Monster stays put, eyes staying put on her.

  It really isn’t moving, is it. Wait. What is Bax doing?

  How did he get so close to the monster so quickly, and where did that glass of alcohol come from? Man stretches out his arm until the glass is directly under the nose of the monster. Monster looks down, takes the glass, appreciative, and Bax gets comfortable, swivels around and makes a show of following the monster’s gaze, so slow, over empty chairs and empty floor, up to the stage where…ah, yes, the girl, running hands through her new, golden hair and flaring out the strands like water.

  Bax mumbles loud enough for Janelle to hear over the music, ‘Pretty one, ain’t she,’ with a voice crackling like embers making love. The beast gurgles in response and sticks out a tongue. Like hot bitumen with chunks of glass and ash, the wet thing makes circles and slurps violently. Disgusting. Janelle feels her belly tighten but she holds on tight as the song spirals out of control. Focus on the music, dear girl…just as those eyes focus upon you, with their furious lock and stare. A strange thought comes to her as she slides direct to the edge of the dance floor. Does it feel good to hold such power over the creature? Some song inside that gives her a sweet lick of lust, of power. It washes over her, this understanding. She could drop from the stage and walk right up to that thing. Look at it! Puppy-dog obedient. Engorged on lust. Where is the violence from that other night? All lost to the little flick of her hips, forgotten as she untucks her shirt and lifts the hem to reveal her flat belly. A thumb through the waistband, slip down slow to show off white underwear, sun-spared skin, a fraction more before shutting that precious art away with fabric.

  See the creature gawk and pant. This monster is no monster at all. The beast from the weekend is dead. No spirit could be controlled with simple skin.

  Monster coos and Janelle smiles to herself, returning to the pole for a final round. ‘Sticks and Horses’ finishes with Janelle wrapped around the brass. Exhilaration catches the girl in the throat and she sticks out her pink tongue at the thing that killed her. Take a bow, girl. Lights up. Now what?

  Monster bangs a fist on the bar. More! More! Bax leans in, says all fresh and crackly after a sip of alcohol, ‘Unfortunately for you, my friend, you’ve already taken everything of worth from her. You knew that when you removed her voice and made a copy for your own enjoyment. You projected everything that you wanted onto her, now didn’t you? Black but not too black, you know? The kind of girl you enjoy. The kind of plaything you want to taste. And yet, there’s nothing more for you to take. She is empty.’

  Bax reaches inside his jacket and fishes out a pouch of something, opens the top a little. ‘What a waste of time. Where do you get off following perversions of the flesh? You are not flesh.’

  What is that? Crack, sugar? Janelle is not sure. Bax pops the little bag into the air. Lightning-fast, the monster nips the pack with its free hand, draws it in close to those hellfire eyes. A quick inspection. And the package is tossed to the dancefloor. Crystals spill forth. Monster returns gaze to Janelle. Tongue out. Fist waging war on the bar. The offer was rejected.

  There’s something in the way Bax moves now. A resigned, labored sort of motion, a grimace on the face. Oh, so everything comes down to this, does it? Janelle feels the uneasiness eat into her. She steadies herself against the stripper pole as Bax reaches into his pocket.

  The dagger comes swift and makes a satisfying sound entering the chest of the beast. A sapphire blue hilt extends from the heart like a broken rib. Yet, the creature makes no move, no sign of pain, or even recognition of the attack. Then, the eyes roll down to dagger, to Bax, and there they stay. Oh, so everything comes down to this, does it?

  And the two are at their feet, up in a split second and staring each other down. Glasses broken on the dancefloor. Janelle staggers back to the stage entrance yet watches on, unable to truly run away. She wants to see what happens next.

  The monster hisses and raises both claws. In a heartbeat, its body flares up all excited and lusty, pushing out like an angry tide. A waft of heat scrapes past Janelle. Bax has two hands up, palms in, just standing there, meeting the creature’s gaze in their little space. Man stares, monster roars like an abused dog: one kick too many.

  The lights all start to fail. One by one, the club grows dark, save for the crystal pixels on the floor beneath the actors. Janelle watches, horrified, as the ghosts appear silently. Wrigley, uneasy things, they form a wide circle around the monster like forgotten children rounding a campfire, all holding hands. Together they sing a soundless song as Baxter corrals them into action, hands moving slow. Wind picks up and clothes and monster flesh waver like the heat mirage on the road in summer. But the monster stands his ground, shields his face from the attack.

  Jan can see the concentration in Bax’s eyes under that stupid hat. Intense. Abruptly, the man claps his ready hands together; the floor pixels explode in volcanic light, the shadows cry and scream so loud! Monster slaps a hand across an ear, the other hand over the dagger hilt, trying to pull it free as blood
pours fresh from the wound. What will it do with that knife once it’s out? Maybe he will stab the strange human, maybe he will end his own life. But that sapphire weapon isn’t moving.

  Janelle has never seen anything like this before. No skerrick of reality has come close to emulating this level of fear inside her – not that she is in danger, but rather that what is happening right now is breaking the world apart. And sound like no other: immediate like waking from a nightmare with ears full of prickles.

  Something horrible is happening before her eyes. With squelchy precision, the monster splits open in a messy half, screaming like a buzz saw through wet carpet. Two heads appear, four arms. The creature is dividing in painful motion as Bax orchestrates the split with steady hands. The halves become fours, four into eight, eight into sixteen and more and more and more until there are hundreds of tiny specs of monster moping around like animate sludge on the floor. Dagger clatters aside, her job done. Bax’s shadows circle and circle, pushing the monster mess closer in on itself, shrinking the space it can inhabit. Smaller, smaller, until the shape is down to the size of a crystal floor tile. From what Janelle can see, the monsters have collected into a ball. Bax claps his hands impossibly loud and his shadows vanish with ghoulish effects.

  The ball of monsters rolls itself light speed to the nearest fire exit, jumps to hit the door handle, and rolls out, lost to the night.

  This would be the point in the movie adaptation where Bax whips out a cig and turns to Janelle to say, ‘That’s how you take care of trouble.’

  This is the point in the story where Bax returns to the bar and hangs his head in his arms.

  Is he crying?

  Janelle feels Dani behind her, whispering at her ear as they disappear into the green hallway, ‘Come on, let’s go back and wait for him in the office.’

  Janelle doesn’t reply. She doesn’t know anything anymore, really.

  Jewel vomit

  Dani opens the office door. Bax is already inside. Feet on the low table, man being sucked into the lips of the couch once more. Janelle can’t believe her eyes. Shadows circle the couches like bees orbiting a closed hive. They dare not touch his circle of light no matter how much they want it. Let us in! But they very quickly settle as the women enter. Simple wall shadows once more. Janelle blurts out, ‘H-How did you get back here before we did?’

  But the man looks too tired to amuse the young girl. Instead, he motions the two over to the couch beside him. They sit, Bax sighs, explains after taking his hat off, ‘That particular monster is what we call a Counterfeiter. Not so easy to deal with – there’s a lot of ceremony, lots of theatrics. This one had a particular liking to you, young Janelle Broadchurch. He was a fan of your dancing. So be proud of that – a spirit likes how you move your body. That’s quite an honor.’

  Jan looks to Dani. Her eyes are very far away, past Bax, through Bax. Cutting. The man looks nowhere, just rubs his hands over his face. Loose hair matted against the forehead, sweat droplets on the cheeks. Weaker. A shadow appears into the circle of light with a bottle of sparkling water. Bax says thank you in a language that does not exist, pops the top and points with his pinkie to Janelle, ‘I’m afraid I have some bad news.’

  Janelle leans forward, finding Dani’s hand as she braces herself. Bax coughs a little from the water and he says to Janelle, ‘I’m afraid that creature has taken possession of not only your voice but your soul as well.’

  Janelle cocks her head to the side, not entirely sure how to respond. Bax nods his approval, ‘Yes, you’re right to be blasé. Souls aren’t all that precious and there’s no afterlife that you now can’t access. But here’s the rub. When he ripped out your voice box, or soul, he made a counterfeit image of you and released it back into the world.’

  Mirror? Does Bax know about Mirror? But the man points again, slow this time, and murmurs dire words:

  ‘That counterfeit is you. Hence the hair, hence the voice.’

  A pause.

  ‘What do you say to that?’

  Girl thinks for a moment. The words come easy: ‘I’m fine with who I am now.’

  Bax smiles, nods, relaxes. ‘That’s the spirit. You’re a good girl for being optimistically circumspect. To be honest, not much changes – soul, no soul. I haven’t had one in years. Dani, how’s your soul going?’

  Dani concedes, ‘Nope, no soul here,’ and points to her breast.

  ‘Only side effect is that you will see a few more supernatural oddities than what you’re used to. But rest assured that you are safe and that you are completely real, although you are a fake. Life is strange. Now—’ Bax strains his neck and breathes in sharp through his teeth, as if he’s just pulled a muscle. He delivers the bad news, ‘Alas – and this is very difficult for me – I must inform you that I cannot continue your employment here.’

  Janelle feels her heart squeeze; her mind backflips. She croaks, ‘B-But I need this job. With the monster gone and some extra protection I can work. I need the work, otherwise—’

  Bax holds up his free hand – silence – and takes another sip of the water, continues, ‘That Counterfeiter will come back, and come back at us hard, unless we remove the source of his fascination. You and the dance floor. I can’t risk the security of the club and my patrons and girls for one person. I think with your newfound understanding of the world’s intricacies you can appreciate my ethical and economic predicament. A second reason: on account of the mayor, who thinks you are gone, you will need to lie low until he is ousted from office. Even after, I’d be hesitant to keep you on – a lot of my upper class clients demand discretion and it won’t do for their girls to have a reputation. Why would they be serviced by someone who is likely to get them removed from their lofty position as chief of police, headmaster, clergyman, soccer coach, fireman, sales assistant, commissioner, senator, etcetera. Understand?’

  Janelle sinks her face down to her hands. She knows that argument is futile. This is the furthest thing from what she wanted. Reality bites and consequences flow like needles across the skin. Where else can she work for equal pay? How will she get the money to support Mom? How can they fix Boiler and the fridge and the solar charger? And what will they do if they can’t afford to stay…Christ, public housing is full and so very dangerous – Shit Stack towers are the closest thing to hell on earth. Maybe she would have to make her new home a new workplace? Dangerous game to play when you’re competing against every other prostitute and underground pimp. Eating may prove difficult: Flat Rate Government cards only cover food if you’re not on the public register. If her mother has to move house she might fall into desperation and drugs again. Despair.

  With hot tears pressing behind her eyes, Jan looks to Dani for council – please, please, big sis, stand up for me! Stand up for me…but the older woman has that sad look on her face, the look of tied hands. A leather arm around the shoulder is the only solace she gets. Janelle leans in and stifles her crying.

  She didn’t ask for this. She didn’t ask for a life where the supernatural undid her and sucked away her soul and her only source of good income. A hot, deep sadness twinges her heart and flows outwards, outwards, burning through her arteries like charcoal rolling. It touches her face and her cheeks ignite.

  Janelle bawls into her hands.

  Wait. What was that? Like something clinking, glass touching. Janelle feels it too, that cool flavor cupped in her palms. She opens up to the world and looks down to...

  Sapphires…

  Sapphires?

  Four sapphires.

  Janelle looks from Dani to Bax; both have her undivided attention now. Even the eyes of the bushy shadows are on her. Bax shakes his head from side to side. ‘Well, well, I never met a girl who could cry jewels before.’

  Dani tries to take a sapphire from Janelle but the girl pulls away just after Dani managed to touch one. Janelle explains with a little voice, ‘You can’t touch them – they turn to acid if anyone else touches them.’

  Bax instructs her
to display them on the table, so Janelle spreads the gems out and the man uses the underside of his glass bottle to move them around. After a couple of seconds, one of the jewels comes alive: the glass of the table begins to hiss and smolder, Bax’s bottle contorts and melts as he keeps his bottle pressed to the side. They watch in awe as the jewel plummets down to the concrete floor, meteoring through the table. Crack! Sparkling water falls from the side of Bax’s broken bottle. The other jewels remain untouched.

  Bax discards his bottle, claps hands free of water, and muses, ‘Yes indeed, acid. Like tetrafluoride. But I wonder. Coat them in something before anyone else touches them – just a thin layer of resin or epoxy will do – and you’ve got yourself a fine-looking counterfeit. Fancy that. A counterfeit making counterfeits. Janelle, I think we may just have a private job for you yet. Of course,’ Bax claps his hands together and summons a few shadows, ‘There will be no more dancing or client work. Also, note that you’re under no obligation to stay with me. You’re more than entitled to go private, seeing as how I just fired you. However, I know a few people who would lose their shit for gems like these, metaphorically speaking. What do you say?’

  Fire in the heart. ‘Will you pay me a good wage?’

  He nods. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Will you keep me safe?’

  He nods. ‘Always.’

  Janelle nods and smiles her thanks. Tiny laughter escapes her throat and she feels like air. While Bax speaks with a few shadows, Jan leans into Dani and suggests, ’I guess you’ll have to escort someone else home after work now.’

  Dani looks like a girl waking up after a hundred years in torpor and trying to adjust to the modern world; she replies, ‘I-I’m not leaving you. I’ll help you coat these gems and make sure nobody burns a fucking finger off.’