by Hannah Jayne
“Come on, Lawson. This is a lot to process. You’ve got to give me a minute. I mean, first you’re Satan’s kid, then Ophelia’s sister, now this. Are you sure? Absolutely sure?”
“As sure as I can be. I don’t know what any of this”—I flung my arms open wide—“means.”
Alex opened his mouth and then closed it again. “Plain sight,” he murmured.
“Plain sight,” I agreed.
“I don’t understand.”
I shook my head. “Neither do I. But I’m not wrong.”
“Okay,” Alex said with a monumental sigh. “Now what?”
“Now what? Now we throw a big welcome-home party for my dad. I don’t know! I’m a vessel. I’m a thing !”
“You’re not a thing, Lawson. You’re you.”
“Eloquent.”
There was a soft knock on the office door, and then Nina poked her head in. “Are we done spying? I’m bored.”
“Nina! You’re supposed to be standing watch!”
Nina looked over one narrow shoulder. “Clear,” she said.
I grabbed Alex by the sleeve of his shirt and hustled him toward Nina. “I want to get out of here. I need to get out of here.”
Nina followed behind us. “What’d you find out about dear ol’ dad? Cross-dresser? Closet masochist? Satan?”
“It wasn’t about Szabo,” Alex said, his voice steady as he carefully chose his words. “It was about Sophie.”
“And Ophelia,” I interjected. “Ophelia is my sister.”
Nina’s eyes widened. “Oh. Lord.”
“I need a milkshake.”
Nina and Alex nodded and followed me to the car, Nina chattering the whole way. “So, Ophelia, huh? Interesting.” She looked from me to Alex. “You’ve dated sisters. Major no-no in the Dater’s Compendium.”
“I think the afterlife version might be different,” I whispered. Alex reached out and squeezed my hand, and though the move was meant to be comforting, it wasn’t. “Wow. I have a sister.”
Nina bit her lip. “If Ophelia is your sister and Satan is your dad, who’s Ophelia’s mom?”
My eyebrows went up, and Nina and I both swung to look at Alex, who shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Never got that serious, huh?” Nina said.
I thought of my own mother, her eyes warm, her touch so soft. My throat tightened. “Milkshake. Please.”
We slid into the car and drove in silence, until Alex found an In-N-Out Burger. He ran us through the drive-through, handing a chocolate milkshake back to me and balancing a basket of fries on his lap. I snatched a few, pried the lid off my shake, and dipped.
Alex looked at me. “That’s gross.”
I swallowed a chocolaty, salty mouthful. “I’ve had a bad night.”
“So,” Nina said as we coasted back onto the highway, “did you find out if Pops is Satan?”
Alex wagged his head, sipped at his shake. “It didn’t seem important anymore.”
“Because of the Ophelia thing?”
I took another handful of fries and a big gulp of chocolate shake. I could feel the soul-soothing triumvirate of salt, grease, and fat begin to work through my system.
“And because of the Vessel,” Alex said.
Nina’s eyes were wide and she tossed me a panicked look, sitting up straighter in the car seat. “What do you know about the Vessel?” she asked Alex.
“It’s okay, Nina. I told him.”
Nina’s shoulders fell a millimeter, but her eyes narrowed angrily. “You might know her secret, angel, but if you lay one hand on Sophie just because she’s this tank thing, I swear you’ll regret it for all your lives to come.”
I watched Alex’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Noted.”
I reached across the seat and squeezed Nina’s hand. My dad might be Satan, I was thrown in the slammer for a disappearing murder, and I might be some kind of supernatural Tupperware, but I had the best best friend in the world.
I stole a glance over at Alex. His eyes were icicle blue and fiery. He was focused straight ahead on the dark road before us, and the muscle in his jaw was twitching the way it did when he was concentrating. I didn’t want to consider what he was thinking, so I sunk down in my seat and tried to close my eyes.
I thought about us lying in bed together, our naked shoulders touching, and him telling me about Heaven. I thought about the way he had talked about being restored to grace—about “going home.” And I thought about how I was the only way he was going to get there. I swallowed a sob.
The truth hurts, doesn’t it? My eyes flashed open. He doesn’t want you. He wants the Vessel....
I clamped my hands over my ears, trying to silence Ophelia’s singsongy voice.
Do us all a favor ... .
I gritted my teeth. Did you like seeing photos of Daddy and me? Maybe we can all get together some day ... go out for ice cream. Doesn’t that sound like the perfect family outing? He used to take me out for ice cream all the time....
Shut up, I thought, closing my eyes, clenching my fists, and going rigid. Shut up, shut up, shut up.
There was a faint, echoing giggle, and then she was gone.
I opened my eyes and saw Nina bite her lip, thinking. “So, if Sophie is the Vessel, then ... how do we get to it?”
Alex was silent, avoiding my gaze. “Alex?” I asked.
“The only way to possess the Vessel in this”—Alex’s eyes wandered over me, met mine—“form, is to release it.”
“Release it? What does that mean?” Nina asked.
I swallowed, the truth washing over me. “Death,” I said, my eyes fixing on Alex’s. “He has to kill me.”
Now you know what Alex was thinking this whole time.... He gets close to you, you fall in love with him, trust him ... and he kills you.
“No,” I murmured under my breath.
“Sophie?” Alex asked.
“That’s not true,” I whispered.
You think he really cares, don’t you? You don’t think he knew what you were all along? Come on, little sis, grow up. Alex is only after one thing. He’s a fallen angel. He’s no better than I am.
I clenched my fists, feeling my nails dig little half-moons into my palms. I felt the sting of sweat on my upper lip.
Alex put his hand on my thigh, leaned close. “Lawson, are you okay?”
“It’s Ophelia,” I whispered. “She’s in my head again.”
“Block her out. You have to.” Alex’s eyes were wide, insistent.
I pressed my palms against my ears. “I’m trying to.”
“She knows exactly where you are. She’s listening.”
Ophelia’s laughter came out hollow, reverberating through my head. Isn’t he cute? Trying to help you out—as though he can! Really, sis, I can’t blame you for falling for him—I mean, I did. I took one look at those glorious baby blues of his ...
“I am not your sister,” I muttered between clenched teeth.
Did he slip up? Call you his girlfriend? Did he whisper, “I love you” in the middle of the night?
My saliva went sour and my stomach lurched. I felt the tears beginning to pool behind my eyes, but I wouldn’t give Ophelia the satisfaction of seeing me cry. I breathed deeply, blinked away the tears.
Face it, Sophie. You’re second best. Again. First Daddy, and now Alex. Sorry, sis. Stings a little bit, I bet, huh? Poor thing. Really, it would be easier for everyone if you just ...
“No.” I gritted my teeth.
Ophelia started to hum softly, an eerie unnatural lullaby running through my mind.
“Sophie, don’t let her get to you. Alex, we have to do something. Sophie’s going crazy.”
Alex’s voice was even. “Ophelia is dangerous and as long as she can get into your head, Lawson, we’re at her mercy. You’ve got to try to block her out.”
“Great. So now we have to get Ophelia out of my head and the Vessel out from my ... wherever it is. Geez. What else is in me?” I had an image of my empty skin, heaped on
the floor in front of me.
Alex took my hand. “Okay, Sophie, I need you to think. There is always something that we think about, sometimes when we concentrate hard enough or go somewhere where we can’t let anything else into our mind.”
“Like ... having a one-track mind?”
“I guess. Is there something you can think about that is all consuming?”
Nina raised her hand, grinning salaciously. “I’ve got mine.”
I clamped my eyes shut and was pleasantly surprised when my mind rolled out a blank, black canvas. But little by little, at the edge of my periphery, images rolled in. There was Ophelia, and when I saw her in my mind’s eye I felt myself stiffen sharply. I worked to push her out and focus on something else when I felt a tightness at my throat, a deep pressure ringing my neck. I coughed, feeling the prick of the individual hairs of rope as they scratched my skin, tightening, making it hard to breathe. I felt the rope as it rolled upward as though someone were—were—hanging it? Tears sprang to my eyes and I opened them, clawing at the imaginary rope around my neck, gasping. I blinked, feeling the stolid air in the car, Nina and Alex’s eyes on me, swimming with concern.
“Sophie?” Nina asked.
“I’m okay,” I lied, opening the back window and relishing the cool wind crashing over me. “I’m okay.”
Alex took my hand when we got back to the apartment. He squeezed it gently. “Are you sure you’re okay? In the car you were—”
“It was just a lot to take in,” I said with a calculated sigh. “I’m okay, really.”
Alex’s eyes were intent on mine and I could tell he wasn’t convinced. I threw in a smile filled with forced happiness. “Really.”
“Do you need me to stay? We could talk about this—make some coffee, figure out some sort of plan?”
“That’s very Dr. Oz of you, but, to be honest, I just want to go to sleep. Besides, the fate of the world might hang in the balance, but polyester pants wait for no one. I just want to go to sleep for a little while—just for a little while—before I have to face my new job.” And before I had to face my new family.
Chapter Nineteen
My new position at People’s Pants may not have offered a 401(k), but it did offer hour upon hour of mind-numbing, repetitive duty. I worked to keep my mind focused on the People’s Pants–approved tri-fold technique and not on the events of last night—particularly, that my family tree seemed to be getting bogged down with more and more rotten fruit. I had slunk into my bedroom last night feeling betrayed and alone. Ophelia had known about me, but I hadn’t known about her. Who else did?
I folded another pair of pants and the silver button fly caught my eye. Four shiny buttons. My mouth went dry and I quickly glanced around, then hunched closer to the pants. “Grandma?”
I heard the snap of gum behind me and a burst of grape-scented air. I whirled, and Avery was behind me, her lips dyed to match her gum, her eyebrows raised. “Were you talking to the pants?”
I wagged my head furiously. “Of course not.”
She gave me a look of skepticism and disbelief and turned on the platform heels of her black plastic boots, popping another bubble as she went.
My cell phone chirped and I gasped, clasping my hand over my heart. “Geez!” I slid it out of my People’s Pant blue smock pocket.
“’Lo?” I answered, dropping my voice and dipping my head behind a mammoth stack of painter’s pants.
“I’m taking you to lunch,” Alex said.
I dropped the pair of pants I was folding and peeked around, periscope style. I watched Avery unwrap another chunk of gum and stick it into her mouth, then settle at the register with a rock magazine. Aside from the two of us, the store was empty.
“Okay, but I only get a half hour. I wouldn’t want to upset my teenybop supervisor.”
I clicked my cell phone shut and hurried for the break room, peeling off my smock and fluffing my hair as I went. I yanked out my shoulder bag—excessively heavy due to my new Taser—and dumped the black plastic case back into my locker. No need for a stun gun with Officer Angel by my side. By the time I made it out to the main floor Alex was leaning against the front counter, examining a pair of god-awful one-off chinos while Avery swooned behind him.
“We have them in slate, charcoal, verbena, and cherry, too,” she cooed. “Or I can show you something in a soft-weave nylon.”
Alex’s eyes met mine and I watched Avery immediately stiffen. “I’m going to lunch now, okay?”
Avery’s dark eyes went from mine to Alex’s; she used her thumb and index finger to rub the bridge of her nose as she let out a long, aggravated sigh. “Fine. Just make sure you’re back on the floor by one. My moon is in the seventh house and I can already feel my chakras backing up—I really need to meditate. And you have that entire pile of side-zip capris to mark down.”
I pasted on a smile. “Can’t wait.”
Alex ushered me out the People’s Pants doorway and pointed to his white SUV, parked across the street. I looked at him, impressed. “Someone has parking karma.”
San Francisco, while loaded to the gills with gourmet restaurants, killer fashion boutiques, and the best donuts on the planet, is sadly sparse on parking spots. Last I heard there were six.
Alex grinned and opened his coat, his badge glinting in the sunlight. “This isn’t just a fancy piece of jewelry.”
I gaped. “You flashed your badge to get someone to move?”
He shrugged. “I consider this official police business.”
We pushed through the double glass doors of the diner. The V-shaped restaurant was fronted by big glass windows looking out on the city and the bay, and sported dark wood booths with tall dividers that made patrons feel cozy as the swirls of fog rolled in just beyond the glass. Inside the restaurant was slightly dark, reflecting the afternoon sky, and the homey scents of meatloaf and French fries greeted me and made my stomach growl. We stood in the foyer waiting to be seated and I hunkered back, certain that everyone was staring. As the waitress led us to our table, I stared at the ground, focusing on the toes of my shoes rather than the questioning eyes I felt boring into me. I slid in the booth and looked around nervously.
“You’re paranoid,” Alex said.
“I am not.” I bit my thumbnail. “But everyone was looking at us, right? They were staring?”
“No more than usual, Lawson.”
Another waitress came by with a carafe and filled up our coffee mugs, handing us two laminated menus. We scanned our menus and she took our order—two burgers, two fries. I watched her disappear behind the counter while Alex studied me.
“You’re completely paranoid,” he said finally.
“Okay, if I am—which I am not—don’t I have the right to be?” I tried to keep my voice hissing and low, but I could feel my voice rising. “I am the Vessel, Alex. Everyone wants me!”
The diner patrons had the uncanny ability to drop into silence at the most inopportune of moments—like this one. All heads swung toward me, appraising. The waitress strolled back over and gave me an uninterested once-over, then sloshed coffee into Alex’s mug, ignoring my own.
I hunched lower in the booth and began to whisper, spitting dirty looks at Alex, who sugared and stirred his coffee with that stupid smug grin on his face.
“I mean, everyone wants the Vessel. And it seems that a whole lot of people are onto my little secret. So excuse me if I’m just a little jumpy.”
We were silent while the waitress slid our plates in front of us. I examined my sandwich like a crime scene investigator examines a crime scene—I checked the bread, both top and bottom, poked at all the fries, tore the burger in pieces. I waited for Alex to take a bite of his burger. He did, chewed quietly. No maggots. I took a tentative bite of my lunch. Once I felt my teeth sink into the moist meat—no squishing of maggots or crunching of rat bones—I chewed happily, licking the caramelized-onion grease as it spilled over my fingers. “This is the best lunch ever,” I said with a mouthful.
Alex sat forward, his voice low. “The number of people who know about the Vessel of Souls—let alone are searching for it—is miniscule.”
I swallowed my bite. “Fabulous! So only a small number of people want to kill me. I feel so much better now.”
“All I’m saying is that you don’t have to operate like there are snipers on every corner. I’m here.”
“For now,” I said, staring at my plate.
“And besides,” Alex continued, ignoring me, “you have your stun gun.”
I thought of the weapon in its hard plastic case, nine blocks away, casually thrown in the locker of a discount clothing chain.
“Right,” I agreed.
Alex picked up a French fry and popped it in his mouth. “How’s that working out for you, anyway?”
“Excellent. I electrocuted three people on my way to work this morning and then I used it to warm up my morning coffee.”
The waitress stopped in front of our table, thought better of it, and kept walking. I gaped and Alex grinned, pointing at me with a fry.
“People might not like you, but they’re not trying to kill you.”
“Be honest. You stole that from a Hallmark card, didn’t you?”
I was in a groove rhythmically folding a stack of 2XL peach terry sweatpants at the store when I felt eyes on me. I turned slowly, and Avery was behind me, her made-up eyes focused hard, the little silver hoop in her pierced eyebrow raised and angled.
“Can I help you?” I asked her.
She snapped her green-apple gum. “You’ve got a dark aura right now. Like danger, evil.”
I looked down at the pair of sweatpants I was folding and held them out. “I think you’re catching the aura of the pants.”
Avery wagged her head. “I know you don’t believe in this, but there definitely is something about you that attracts evil.”
If you only knew the half of it, I thought.
The bells above the front door tinkled and we both turned to look as a handful of scruffy-looking teenagers loped in. They nonchalantly poked around the racks of one-off brand-name jeans and lounge pants. Their collectively unkempt hair was scraggly and served to disguise their faces as they pretended to study the merchandise, but instead kept eyeing Avery and me.