by Azzurra Nox
She seemed to listen intently to what he said, perhaps not catching every word he spoke, and he kicked himself for having used such a complex sentence structure with someone who’s English wasn’t terribly perfect.
“Death is a part of life,” she spoke softly, “Why would I write about hope?”
“Because usually who overcomes death becomes stronger, usually that person feels like they’ve been given a second chance at life.”
“My characters courted death, they didn’t want to live, and the killer only gave them what they wanted.”
“But you didn’t want death.”
There was a shocked silence, and then she asked, “What did you say?”
“You bargained with her, didn’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, shaking her head, and quickly turning, her hands reaching for the door wanting to get out.
Jon blocked the door with his body, and looked at her directly in the eyes, “What did you give up so that Adriel could give you back your life?”
Madoka’s eyes widened at the sound of Adriel’s name, and opened her mouth in an attempt to speak and then shut it again. There was an awkward silence where both their beating hearts and deep breathing filled the boxed alcove of the car. Then Jon broke the silence with, “She killed you that night, or close to it, it’s how you described it in that scene,” he reached for her throat and she let out a startled cry as he yanked on the black choker. Once her neck was released from the black material he let out a surprised gasp when he noticed the savage scar she had on her throat.
“She promised me a new life, if I handed her my soul.”
“You did what?!”
“She’s looking for people to join her army. I don’t know for what. I didn’t care. She grows stronger with a vessel…..I just wanted to be alive again. I just wanted to be healthy!”
Jon didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t say anything at all because he had never been in Madoka’s position. Maybe he would’ve done the same thing or at least been tempted to give in to Adriel if he had been on the brink of death with a fatal illness. His features softened as he looked at this pretty girl with a will to live that was evident in the way she clung to life, even if it was already a damned one. He said nothing. Then he pulled her in for an embrace. She didn’t recoil Instead he felt her lips against his ear as she whispered, “Never give into her, no matter what she promises. Never. She’ll make you her slave. Don’t do it. Never.“
Her words froze the blood in his veins and when he pulled away he was taken aback to notice a deep red imprint on her chest from where the mirror pendant touched against her skin. Squinting his eyes, he tried to make out the blister, passing his hand over the elevated skin, not understanding why it had happened.
“How did it happen?”
“I don’t know,” she was just as confused looking down at the red blister, patting it.
“How did she do it?”
“Give me another chance?”
“Yes,” he was staring at her scar across her neck. It looked like she had been gashed by a sharp object.
“She took my life, and gave me another one.”
“Yes, but how?”
“She gave me her breath.”
This time it was Jon’s turn to be confused. He was about to ask another question when he heard a knock on the side of the door. It probably was Fumio telling them that he only had a couple more minutes. He watched her touch the blister on her chest once more.
“I don’t know how that happened, I’m sorry.”
“Before I died, she was everywhere,” she interrupted, “I could sense her everywhere….”
“She only comes to those that are broken,” he quickly stated, “My….my ex-girlfriend was killed by her.”
“She can’t kill anyone unless they want it. I wanted to die. I wanted to live but not as an ill person, I couldn’t stand being terminal. I wanted to live but on my terms.”
“So, how do you kill her?”
“You can’t. No one can.”
“Unless another angel does it…”
“You’ve seen another?”
Jon almost kicked himself for slipping with that information because he didn’t feel like he wanted to broadcast Michael’s presence to others. He’s their only hope to eliminate Adriel and he couldn’t possibly put him at risk.
“No…I just assumed…I’ve been reading about them,” he quickly lied adding the half truth at the end.
“You’re not really a journalist are you?”
“I had to talk to you. After she came to me and tried to kill me, the way she did you, I needed to talk to you.”
“To gain what? Answers?”
“Something like that.”
“There’s nothing to reveal. I made a pact with her, and she gave me life, a new life.”
“Would you ever go back and redo it?”
“Yes.”
“But you told me that I should never give into her.”
“Is losing your soul worth the price of a new life? I’d rather be a slave to her than to an illness. But that was my choice.”
There was another loud knock on the door, and this time it flung open.
“Your time is up!” Fumio told him looking rather stern and annoyed. “We’ll be late for the plane, we have to be in San Francisco tonight.”
“Five more minutes!” Jon shouted, quickly shutting the door and locked it before Fumio could open it again. “There’s also something else too, you didn’t just give up your soul to live, there had to be something else…”
“What do you mean?” she her voice was shaky and looked sharply nervous. He looked down at her hands. She was wringing them, trying to keep a faux calm composure.
“Your book! All the ones that have died at my school had read your book. There’s a connection!”
“You’re babbling. I don’t know what you mean.”
He rose abruptly, only half way because of the roof of the car was short and he was so tall, almost crouching over her.
“You said that you’re a slave to Adriel now. Which means that you have to help her gain more people for her army. And what if she gave you a new life, but you accepted that you’d help her get more souls?”
“I don’t get what you’re trying to insinuate.”
“Tell me what power the book holds!”
“You don’t get it do you? She has no power unless someone is already broken, or a tortured soul. Even if you destroy my book, there’s a myriad of other artworks out there that will lead her to those individuals. The weak and disillusioned. You see, all art calls to those people. She just aids them in achieving what they want.”
“But not everyone wishes for death!”
“It’s not always death people want. It’s a way out. But sometimes death and a way out become the same thing. There’s a fine line between the two.”
Jon was going to say something else when the opposite door opened. This time it was both the chauffeur and Fumio barging in and pulling him out.
“I told you the interview is over!” he shouted, throwing Jon out of the car. Hope and Lena were nearby, closing in on him. Before he could talk to Madoka once more, Fumio got into the car, shut the door and they drove away.
“What happened?” Lena asked on the brink of curiosity.
“Adriel is recruiting broken souls through Madoka’s book.”
“You mean the book has that power?” Hope cut Jon off.
“No, but the book attracts people who are already tortured. She was saying that all art attracts people who are that way.”
“Do you think that Adriel’s been recruiting people for centuries using that method?”
“I don’t know, Hope. But it’s possible.”
“But that would mean that all the art in the world, music, writing, paintings, dance…are a trap?”
Jon could tell by Lena’s expression that this revelation was disturbing by the way her eyebrows furrowed and her lip p
ulled at the side.
“I don’t know how much of a trap it is, but surely it’s used for her to single people out or something. She also said that Adriel grows stronger with a vessel.”
“That means…..she’s been using someone as a vessel.” Hope was trying to stay focused. “It’s how she’s gotten stronger over time. It all makes sense.”
Jon’s head was spinning with facts and ideas that he needed to share. He nervously took out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it up and sat down on the sidewalk. Taking a few drags, he tried to calm himself down, exhaling clouds of smoke. Lena waved the smoke away from her face as she down next to him.
“This thing touched her, and it gave her a blister!” Jon showed off the pendant that he had around his neck.
“Amelia’s pendant?”
“That’s not Amelia’s, or at least it wasn’t hers. I gave that mirror to Connor.”
“You?” Jon was surprised by this news.
“Yeah, I put a binding protective spell on it and told him to keep it with him at all times.”
“And he gave it to Milly…” Jon mused, “I didn’t know they were that close.”
“You weren’t with her much the last days to know,” Lena added.
“Neither were you,” his tone sounded accusatory.
“Guys!” Hope shouted trying to keep their focus on the problem at hand, “You know what this means?”
“What?”
“That the protective spell works! She probably got the blister because she’s Adriel’s vessel, that means she’s not entirely…good.”
“Interesting.”
“You see, soulless beings typically hate mirrors,” Hope explained.
“It makes sense now!”
“So what can we do?” Lena was eager to know, there was an insistence to her tone. She pulled on a strand of hair.
“Nothing. We can’t kill her, but…”
“But what?”
“Michael was right, he’s the only one who can eliminate her. We have to find him.”
“Like finding him is easy!”
“Oh, he’ll come around. Especially if he thinks you need him,” a sliver of jealousy tinged his voice.
Hope nodded, “Jon’s right, we need Michael, and you’re the only way who can get him to return.”
“Yes, but even if I want him to, I don’t know how to get in contact with him.”
“We’ll think of something,” Hope tried to sound optimistic.
The late afternoon sun was setting against the backdrop of palms lining down the sidewalk. Soon, the fog would begin to invade the city like a slow menacing hand ready to embrace them all in its soft, chilly, humid grip. Jon touched the pendant, thinking about what Madoka had told him. If what he were to gain from Adriel was worth the bestowing of his soul. How much was he willing to give up to know the truth about his brother? The thought was fleeting but gave him a little chill, and he took a final drag of his cigarette before stomping it out under his foot, wishing that he could obliterate Adriel just as easily as butting out an unwanted cigarette stub.
Chapter Thirteen
Griffith Park was filled with various soda cans after a three day weekend from hikers that liked to stroll through the park. Hope was out early, picking up the cans, this time with the help of Gram Ginnie, her grandmother. She carried the black plastic bag, whilst her grandmother poked around the bushes with a stick to uncover any sort of metal can. The morning was grey and reeking with humidity that soaked into the marrow of her bones. The red and black striped sweater she wore had several holes in it from constant wear, but she preferred using the little money she had to pay for a warm meal than a new shirt. Sometimes she wondered why her grandmother hadn’t picked up her stuff and headed east, towards Vegas, where it was warmer, and less crowded than Los Angeles. Maybe because they’d have to take a bus, since their car wasn’t in driving condition, and then they’d be literally homeless. At least right now they lived there, however small the car may seem as a substitute for a home. Hope studied her grandmother’s profile. Her nose was upturned and her features gave indication that at sometime in her youth she used to be pretty, but time had ravaged on her looks, creating deep wrinkles on her forehead and at the corners of her mouth. Worry marks, as she sometimes called them. A bundle of white hair was collected at the nape of her neck in a messy bun.
“Hope, honey, there’s some under this bush,” she said with a voice that didn’t sound like it belonged to an elderly woman, but rather of a girl for the way it was soft and candid without the tinge of passing time.
Hope knelt down to pick up the cans. She pulled the plastic bag close to her to throw them in when something caught her eye. A pair of white buckle shoes came into view. They weren’t typical and had a retro feel to them. Her eyes rose to the off white knee length hem. She bit her lip, eyes widening in recognition for a moment when she looked up at the pretty girl with extremely feminine features. The scent of gardenia was overwhelming her senses.
“Hi…” she said in a voice that reeked of shyness. She stood up, trying to make herself visible to the girl she had seen a couple months ago. The girl looked at her and then stated, “Be careful. She’s unto you.”
Hope looked behind her to see if her grandmother was nearby but she had walked ahead of her. Then she looked back at the girl in the dated blonde short cut, and said, “What do you mean by that?”
The girl wringed her hands in agitation, her body shaking like a miniscule flower in the eye of a tornado. “You can’t stop her. Stop trying. If you continue, grave consequences will befall you.”
“Are you talking about the girl with the black wings?” she wanted to be certain that she knew exactly what she was talking about.
She nodded, and added, “Give up. You can’t defeat her.”
“How do you know so much?”
The girl looked frightened, scurrying away from Hope like one of those wild animals that flee whenever someone that imposes danger to them take to flight. Hope ran after her, trying to duck tree limbs, as the girl’s off-white dress billowed with her movements behind her. Then she seemed to vanish into thin air again.
“Wait!” But the girl was nowhere in sight. Hope looked over her shoulder, seeing her grandmother a couple of feet away in the opposite direction. She ran over to her, and quickly asked, “Did you see a pretty girl dressed in white?”
“No. I haven’t seen anyone.”
“Are you sure?”
“You bet, pumpkin.”
“That’s so strange though…” Hope bit her lip in thought, trying to understand how the girl seemed to disappear like the mist in a matter of seconds. The Hollywood sign loomed over them in a menacing manner, especially with the fog crawling over the park, slow and eerie. The two of them walked hurriedly throughout the park, trying to grab as many cans as possible before any of the hikers approached. They had always led a solitary life and they both avoided people whenever they could. The less people they encountered or knew, the less questions they would have to answer about themselves.
“That sign is the biggest lie in Hollywood,” Gram Ginnie stated looking up at the Hollywood sign.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s supposed to symbolize glamor and wealth, and the majority of people who live in Hollywood are homeless.”
“This is the land of the stars, Gram,” she told her with an ironic smile to indicate that she was being sarcastic.
“Land of the fallen stars. Before they had the police keep track of people trespassing the Hollywood sign, many people would go there to try to commit suicide. Especially after Peg Entwistle ended her days that way.”
“Who’s she?”
“An actress from the 1930’s.”
“Why did she do it?”
“I don’t remember. I think it had to do with her not getting scripted for anything.”
“Harsh,” she said bending down to pick up another can to throw in the mix. She couldn’t help but look up at the Hollywoo
d sign again. Its presence was something between imposing importance and vulgarity. Like it knew that without it, this city wouldn’t be the same. The fog began to dissipate, and the letters became clearer, the park looked less like something out of Sleepy Hollow.
“Don’t let it get you down. This city is tough, just like life. But the important thing is to hold on. If you let go, that’s where you lose.”
Hope nodded, knowing that her grandmother was right. She had hopes that her life wouldn’t always be this way. That she could manage to pull herself out of this indigent position she and her grandmother were in. Hard work and a smidgen of luck were the ingredients for success, because when talent meets opportunity, up is the only way to go and Hope was determined to do just that. Her superior intellect had already garnered her a scholarship with St. Lucy’s Academy and that was no small feat. The hope to become someone was very prevalent in her thoughts and aspirations. If this was the land of the stars, she was determined not to be a fallen one, but rather a rising star.
* * *
The Los Angeles public library was immense. It had high ceilings decorated with frescoes and a yellow and black pattern flooring. Not many people were at the library during the afternoon hours. She preferred it this way because she liked being alone, it aided her concentration. This was where she spent her days doing school work, it almost felt like a second home, or rather, like her home, since she couldn’t quite consider the baby blue 1967 Cadillac Eldorado a home, in the conventional sort of way. Hope entered the Teen Reading Room area, where some computers were placed for those who wished to navigate online. She sat down in front of a desktop computer, and placed a notebook and pen on the desk next to it. Opening a search engine, she typed in, Griffith Park Hollywood sign. Soon she was submersed in a million suggestions for sites and articles that spoke of a certain Peg Entwistle that Gram Ginnie had previously mentioned earlier that day.
She read about Peg’s tragic demise. How she was a rising star in New York and made her way to Hollywood for her big break. Only that her big break never came, and so she plunged to her death. Hope clicked on a photo gallery and her mouth dropped open. The photos depicted a pretty petite blonde with short hair. Reading further down, there were testimonials of people who had witnessed having seen a girl that looked exactly like Peg walking on the grounds of Griffith Park. A shiver ran down Hope’s spine when she realized that most likely the girl she had seen at Griffith Park was Peg, and that she was part of Adriel’s army. Maybe she haunted the grounds because she had wanted death but at the very last second had changed her mind. Or maybe she was still attached to her life, even if she flirted with death out of desperation.