“Oh,” Evelyn sighed, intensely relieved. “Oh, yeah, of course. And, I mean, his body is here, because Hans is…using it. Benjamin Kim is still here in a very literal sense. Hopefully not for long. But he’s still with us. For now.”
“Yes,” Jenny nodded. “That, and I can talk to the dead.”
“Yeah.” Evelyn returned the nod, then stopped. “Wait—what?”
“Dead people,” Jenny explained, rising and stepping out of the circle of candles. “I can contact them. You know how Chryesdrine powers are unpredictable, and sometimes people manifest new ones, or existing ones sort of adapt, and we’re not sure why?”
“Uh…”
“This is mine! It’s going to be very useful!”
“Jenny,” Evelyn said slowly. She wasn’t sure if her brain was going a million miles an hour or had ground to a halt. Behind her, Hans snickered, and her head whipped back and forth as she glanced from him to Jenny and back. “What?”
“Oh, it’s better if I just show you!” She shut her eyes and raised her arms. The candle flames jumped. But with no further ceremony or dramatics, an image appeared in the center of the ring. A man’s head, shoulders and torso, floating and translucent. But even partially see-through and with his back to them, Evelyn would have recognized him anywhere. The silver hair at his temples, the sharply defined angles and lines of his jaw and neck, the warmth of his brown skin, even weathered with stress and rough living, and what looked like new scrapes and scars. The breath was already catching in her throat before he turned, and she saw the crinkles at the corners of his familiar eyes and the way they widened when they fell on her. The slow smile that was nothing like the showman’s ringleader grin he could turn on and off at will.
“Hello, Evelyn,” said Garrett Cole.
Evelyn couldn’t say anything at all. She felt very cold.
“Hi Garrett!” Jenny could, and she gave a cheery wave. “How’s Heaven?”
“Heaven? Oh, child,” he gave a rumbling laugh, the deep, rich one Evelyn knew so well, that reverberated in her chest. She shivered. “You’re so sweet, assuming I’d have a snowball’s chance. I haven’t, ah—what’s the phrase? Gone into the light yet. Still so much to do around here. Like check up on you kids. I’m much more interested in how you’re doing.”
“We’re okay,” Jenny answered instead. “Parole is Parole. Hot. Sad. We miss you.”
“I miss you too, Chickadee. Where are your marionettes?”
“Oh, I still have them! We dance all the time. But I’m learning so much,” Jenny smiled. “Like how to talk to you! I need my hands free if I want to cast spells like this.”
“Well, you’re doing so good, Jenny. I’m proud of you,” Although he spoke to Jenny, he never took his eyes off Evelyn, who felt, appropriately, as if she’d seen a ghost. Words still wouldn’t come. She could barely even breathe. “Proud of you both.”
“Evelyn?” Jenny looked up after a few seconds. “Say something. He’s missed you so much.”
“I’ve seen a lot of horrors since this all began,” Evelyn said quietly. “And maybe a couple miracles too. I’m a believer. Chrysedrine gave us nightmares, but…it gave us beautiful things too. Maybe…maybe it’s giving you back to me.” Her voice shook and she stopped, shut her eyes. When she opened them again, they were hard. “But not yet. I have to be sure.”
“I understand,” Garrett’s image nodded slowly. “You are more than entitled, and you were always wise. And you’re the leader now. You have to be smart.”
“If you’re Garrett—my Garrett Cole—if you’re really him, from beyond the grave, talking to me on…on Halloween Night…” Evelyn’s mouth twisted into something half-smile, all-pain. “Tell me what I asked for when we met. Tell me why I wanted Chrysedrine. It shouldn’t be hard to figure out.”
“Well, now that’s a trick question,” Garrett smiled, and now there was a hint of the razzle-dazzle grin. “Because everyone who takes the wonder drug wants to fix something. They’re sick or hurt or hate something about themselves, or the world has told them there’s something to hate about themselves. And they want to make that go away.”
Evelyn stared back, pokerfaced, unreadable.
“And you came to me. You were all of seventeen and nothing, running from that big, scary House on the hill. You had a name that wasn’t yours, and a whole lot of baggage. And I had the drug people called Wonderland.”
Evelyn didn’t say a word.
“And when I asked you why I should give it to you, you looked into my eyes, and you said…”
Evelyn’s hands shook.
Garrett smiled. “I want to be a hero.”
Evelyn let out her breath in a rush.
“You said ‘there’s nothing wrong with me, there’s nothing you can fix with your miracle drug, because I’m not broken. I just want power.’ And that made me sit up and listen! Because nobody had ever said that to me before!” Garrett was smiling wider now, eyes lit up and looking more alive as a dead man than most people Evelyn had seen live and breathe. “And I said, ‘power for what, exactly?’ And you said, the power to help people who were scared and alone, like you. The power to fight back against the forces that were crushing this city, your home and mine. The power to save the day, and make someone’s life worth living. Save someone’s life, even if that’s your own. And most of all, you just wanted to sing. Because sometimes…it’s the same thing.”
A tear rolled down Evelyn’s face. Then another.
“And I said, girl…” Garrett blinked hard as a smile lit up Evelyn’s face for the first time. “I said, girl. I can give you power. I can help you sing and fight and fly. And you can save the day.” He spread his translucent hands. “And look at you now. I was right. Like I always am. Now, what do you have to say?”
“Garrett?” Evelyn whispered. “I missed you so much!”
“And I missed you, my sweet little strawberry!”
“Ohh, this is so beautiful!” Jenny sighed, eyes shining with happy tears. “And none of this would have happened if I couldn’t talk to the dead…”
“Ha!” Somebody snorted from behind them, and they all turned to see Hans’ Cheshire-cat grin, recreated in a dead boy’s face. They’d forgotten he was there. “He’s not dead. Jenny, did you start to believe your own lie? I always knew you were a little off, but. Wow.”
Evelyn’s eyes snapped open wide. “Garrett’s not dead?”
Jenny blanched. “No—no, of course he’s dead! Look at the candles! And my witch hat! I made it all spooky—it all means, ‘she’s talking to dead people!’”
“Plus, you found my note. The recording,” Garrett cut in, exchanging a desperate glance with Jenny. “And the scene of my death. And there were witnesses. I’m a public figure! Reports of my death would not be exaggerated. Ask anyone in Parole. Garrett Cole is dead.”
“No he’s not,” Hans snickered.
“I’m talking to you from the hereafter right now.”
“No you’re not. You’re talking to us from somewhere in New Mexico.”
“Why?” Jenny gasped, looking on the edge of tears. “Hans! Why would you tell the secret? It was a secret! Why would you?”
The dead boy’s shoulders shrugged. “I got tired of all this sweetness. And, I mean, come on. Everybody knows there’s no such thing as ghosts. Evelyn, come on. Really? You’re basically the Queen of Parole by this point. You’re making life-and-death decisions, and you think little Jenny Strings here is talking to your dead dad-figure? You have lost your damn mind. I mean, if that’s what it’s come to, then we really are all screwed.”
“Shut up, Hans!” Garrett snapped. “And get out of that poor boy’s body!”
“And miss all this drama? You have to be kidding. This is the most fun I’ve had in decades. I’ve been so bored. Parole doesn’t get cable.”
“Quiet!” Evelyn’s hands sliced through the air. “Whatever’s going on here, I don’t like it at all. You—all of you! Stop it! Stop the games. Stop the acts
, stop the riddles. Just. Tell me. The truth.” Her finger whizzed through the air to point at Hans as he opened his mouth in a crooked smile, before he could speak. “Except for you! I don’t want to hear you talk for a minute. Sixty seconds, I know you can do that. I have faith.”
Hans made a slow, exaggerated lip-zipping motion with a wide smile and buggy eyes, then rested one hand on his hip. He glanced down at one wrist—which did not wear a watch—then back up at her, waiting.
Evelyn took a deep breath, shoulders rising and then sagging as one hand went to rub at her temples. Her headache was back, and her eyes stung again as well. “Though after all this, this war, this collapse—this night—I’m not really sure how I have any faith left at all. In anything.”
“I’m sorry,” Jenny whispered. “I…I didn’t mean to do anything bad. I didn’t like lying to you. You’re one of my most precious people, Evelyn. My heart sees you in the world, and it feels better. And I don’t want to hurt your soul.” She swallowed hard. “I was…trying to protect Garrett. And you.”
“I told her to lie,” Garrett said, voice flat. “I made Jenny promise not to tell you, or anyone, I was alive. I pray that you never find yourself in a position where faking your own death is the only way out. But sometimes it really is the best option. Especially if there are people you need to protect.”
“It’s quick, it’s easy and it’s free, huh?” Hans quipped.
“What did I just say, boy?” Evelyn snapped, patience finally running out.
“I dunno, I was too busy laughing over the fact that you still believe in ghosts.”
Evelyn stared, two points of red appearing in her cheeks. “I believe that part of us survives,” she whispered. “We have a…a spark of something good and alive inside us, something divine, that isn’t just…just snuffed out, just switched off like a lightbulb, just gone. Excuse me for thinking that just maybe there’s the possibility that when we fall into the fire or get crushed under a building, or—or even take our own life, we’re not all just—”
“Poof?” Hans offered. Evelyn’s arm slowly came up, finger pointing across the room. Hans shrugged, hands in his borrowed pockets, and wandered away the direction she’d pointed.
“So. The recording I found at the Emerald Bar?” Evelyn turned back to Garrett’s image, making herself take deep breaths.
“Everything else I said in it was true,” Garrett conceded. “What I did. I helped invent Chrysedrine and unleash it on Parole. I put Hans in that coma, and when I could have helped him, instead I let him rot in that prison. So you can thank me for…him.” His eyes flicked to the dead boy with the poltergeist controlling him, who was busily cracking his knuckles and sticking out his tongue, trying to see its blue tip. “But I also meant the good things. I meant that you’re the best thing to happen to this city in a long time, Evelyn Calliope. I meant that if anyone can save us, it’s you. And I meant that the show must go on.”
“Okay,” Evelyn said softly. Tears were running down her cheeks now, and she made no effort to wipe them away. “Okay. So. Where do we go from here?”
“Now,” Jenny said quietly, looking up at Hans, still grinning from behind Benjamin’s dead eyes. “I do this!” One hand flew out and she grabbed at the air, seeming to catch something invisible—and he gasped in reply.
“What are you doing?” he staggered back, clutching at his stolen, broken neck.
“You weren’t supposed to tell!” Jenny glared, other hand shooting out to grab something else, another unseen string. “You said you’d help me, help Evelyn, the way you said you needed Benji’s body, you’d treat him with respect—but you lied! You don’t care about anyone but yourself, do you?”
“Jenny, no! Please, no! It took me ten years to get a body back!”
“You didn’t ask.”
“I couldn’t! He was dead!”
“The flower boy doesn’t belong to you.”
“Please—”
“He brought me lilies.”
“Wait!”
Snip. Jenny’s fingers came together in twin scissor motions, slicing the air. Benjamin Kim slumped like a marionette whose strings had been cut, and Jenny rushed forward, catching him gently and easing him to the ground. She lay his arms across his chest and shut his eyes, giving his cheeks each a gentle pat before looking up with a smile.
“I did not know you could do that,” Evelyn stared.
“I said I manifested some new powers,” Jenny’s cheeks went just a bit pink. “I was telling the truth. Oh! Garrett! You’re…you’re going all ghostly!”
Evelyn looked up at his projection in horror, which was quickly fading. “Jenny! Do something, please!”
“I can’t!” Jenny gasped. “I lost focus! I can’t keep connected for much longer! Talk fast, Garrett!”
He tried. “Evelyn, I’m sorry! I’m sorry for everything! Please forgive me, I never wanted to—”
“It’s all right! Just come home!” Evelyn’s eyes stung but she refused to blink, trying to keep the fading image in sight as long as she could. “We haven’t forgotten you, you’re not a ghost! We still love—”
Garrett was gone, exorcised like a wandering spirit, like Hans. A sudden gust of cold wind blew through the curtains and the circle of candles sputtered out, leaving the stage dark and silent.
They were alone. Just Evelyn, Jenny Strings, and the dead boy on the floor.
Evelyn sighed, letting her head drop as she stared at Benjamin’s body. The Jack-o-Lantern smile was gone, and his face looked calm, peaceful, and very young. “Come on, honey. Let’s give him a better place to rest.”
☾
Later that night, Jenny came to meet Evelyn in her office. She had taken off the witch hat, and her long hair hung down partly in front of her eyes. When dressed in her usual several layers of skirts and leggings and too-long sleeves, she just looked like a young girl, too thin and pale and tired. Her hair was platinum blonde, not the ghostly white it had looked in candlelight. She stared down at her feet—in fuzzy boots, not the ballet shoes she’d once worn—as she shuffled in, not looking up to meet Evelyn’s eyes.
“I’m sorry,” was the first thing she said, her voice small.
“For wh...” Evelyn started, picking her chin up out of her hand and blinking her eyes back into focus. She’d been staring at Garrett’s—at her desk again, and how it was exactly as cluttered with papers as it had been earlier. She’d let her hair down and now it hung in a mass of limp magenta curls down to her waist. Even her hair looked tired. “Oh. I understand why you lied. You were just doing what Garrett said. You thought it was the right thing, to protect him.”
“But it still hurt you.”
Evelyn was quiet for a moment. “Yes, it did.”
“You don’t know how you can trust me. Or him. Either of us.”
She didn’t answer.
“You think you’re the one who’s supposed to protect everyone,” Jenny said softly. “You don’t know what to do when it’s us trying to protect you.”
“Stop,” Evelyn said, laying her hands flat on the desk. “Stop trying to figure me out. I haven’t even figured me out yet. I’m—I’m very upset that you both lied to me. Especially Garrett. I’m furious that he put you in the middle of this. He’s the adult here, not you. I’m angry that he made this decision for me and didn’t let me make it on my own.” She took a deep breath, used her hands to push herself into a standing position. “But I’m also…so happy that he’s alive.”
“Me too.”
Evelyn gave a choked little laugh that threatened to become a sob. “Because now when I see him, I can—I can smush his lousy, not-dead face!” She sniffed, smile spreading across her own face. She had no idea if she was laughing or crying. Both. “And I’m so glad that, even if you couldn’t tell me he was alive, that you wanted to show him to me! You wanted to give him back to me, however you could.”
“I had to,” Jenny nodded, tears in her eyes. “I love you and you were hurting. And I love him,
and he was hurting. And I had the power to make it stop. If I can make the pain stop, and I don’t… how am I good? You told me that people started calling you a superhero.”
Evelyn just nodded, couldn’t speak. Her mouth opened but no sound came out.
“And that’s all it means. Doing good when you can. If you have the power to make it stop hurting, and you do, then you’re a hero. You said that. So I tried. Did it... did it work?”
Evelyn sucked in a breath, as if she were about to release a sonic blast, or a powerful song that would save the day. Instead, what came out was an anguished cry.
“Oh…oh, God! We’re losing so many people, Jenny!”
In a heartbeat, Jenny Strings ran across the paper-littered office floor and flung her arms around her friend’s neck. Evelyn sobbed, burying her face in Jenny’s thin shoulders and soft sweater, and finally, after weeks, months of holding back, holding it in, being the fearless leader, being the conquering revolutionary, being the bulletproof superheroine, the radiant queen on the pedestal, the symbol to whom all others looked and gained strength, she let herself cry.
Jenny held her tight and didn’t say a word, just letting Evelyn cry and wail, muffled by her shoulder, and clutch as tightly as she needed to, her thin white fingers gently stroking the mass of messy pink curls. She softly hummed a soothing melody, and it was this that brought Evelyn slowly back to the present. She didn’t even know where she’d heard the song before or if it had words. But it made her feel better on a stormy night.
“Thank you,” Evelyn managed after several minutes, a dry whisper. She cleared her throat, instantly guilty. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have had to see that.”
“It’s not bad to cry,” Jenny shook her head and rested her chin on Evelyn’s shoulder. “Or need a hug. I do all the time. Both.”
“I know, but I’m…” Evelyn sighed, let her head drop again. “Well, I guess I’m not as strong as I think I am.”
“That’s not it,” Jenny said immediately. “Of course you are. But you push yourself too hard. You’re wicked to yourself. Would you push me like that? Or Rose or Danae or anyone else you love? If anyone did that to me, you’d slap them down!”
Life Within Parole Page 19