The Once-Dead Girl

by Laer Carroll

  “She did not!”

  Naomi shrugged, monumentally disinterested in what Gerard thought.

  ·

  The next stop was not far away: a château on the LoireRiver.

  Lihua told them there were more than 300 of the things, elaborate vacation homes away from Paris built long ago for the nobility. The first was one she’d selected after much online research.

  It and the next and the third and last were impressively beautiful and elaborate.

  A memory came to Bethany as she walked with the others through the immense gardens of that last: the Château de Chambord .

  She had been Maelgyreyt. A nobleman whom she had denied her bed attacked her with a sword. She’d torn him apart and the dozen or so companions who also tried to kill her. Then she had called for breakfast. The panicky servants had served her and then fled into the countryside.

  ·

  They visited Marseille on the south coast of France, on the Mediterranean. Parts of it were gorgeous. Parts were old and grubby and ugly.

  The seaside was their favorite, a combination of the old and the modern, the fishermen and fisherwomen who worked the little boats not at all interested in the tourists who passed among them. The workers at the immense commercial port eyed them with interest, four beautiful women and a beautiful man.

  Naomi caught one insulting comment and started to turn angrily toward the little pack of men. The shapechanger instantly hauled her back to a neutral path.

  “Ow! That hurt.” She looked at her lower arm. Already a bruise was showing. A touch from Bethany started a quick healing process.

  The other three had halted and looked back with questions.

  Naomi recovered quickly. She gave wicked grin.

  “They said Gerard must have a big dick to keep a harem of hot chicks like us.”

  This became a running joke for the rest of the day. One Naomi did not join.

  As they walked away from the confrontation she said in a low voice to Bethany. “What was that all about?”

  “I saved you from a fight. You’d probably have floored two of them. But I’d have had to handle the rest.”

  “I can almost believe you could.”

  Maelgyreyt looked out of Bethany’s eyes, hard, savage eyes.

  “I’d have torn them to bloody bits and gnawed on their bones. Then your parents and Lee’s would have had to deal with the consequences.”

  Naomi stared at her for a long moment. She blinked.

  “Gotcha!” Bethany said. Naomi laughed and agreed she had. But for days afterward the memory must have remained with her, for she was distant from Bethany.

  ·

  Cannes was a few minutes by air car from Marseille. It was beautiful and the shops expensive. Lee and Naomi indulged themselves and sent home many delightful outfits. Brigitte and Gerard ignored them. They’d long been inoculated to this side of their friends and ignored it.

  Bethany watched with amusement the two princesses spend and spend. Sandrine Ascaride was much richer than either, in practical terms, and had bought the originals of some of their outfits for ten times as much directly from the designers. Yet her amusement was not contemptuous. She loved the two and was pleased they were making themselves happy.

  ·

  The tiny principality of Monaco was next. They all gambled. Each started with a set amount and quit gambling when they lost it.

  As all but Bethany did. In three hours she made ten times her investment back. The casino watch dogs denied her any further action. They were baffled but could do nothing with no proof that she cheated.

  Later as the five were walking back to their hotel two men confronted them and demanded the money back.

  Bethany stepped forward. “How do I know you work for the casino?”

  “Because we said so.”

  “No.”

  Her friends came forward to her sides. She pushed them back and turned to them.

  “No. I had legitimate fun. And they are not going to ruin this for me.” And maybe it was time to share a tiny bit of herself with these friends.

  Naomi nodded slowly. “Step back. Lee. Brigitte. Gerard.”

  The two men rushed Bethany’s back. She turned toward them, glided aside. Struck the nearest across his throat. Carefully. Just enough to send him choking to his knees then to the concrete. Not to kill.

  The other recovered quickly, reversed and came at her. Cautiously. A club waved in one fist. A knife was hidden in his other.

  The knife was too much. She met him in one swift motion, knocked the club away. Took his knife elbow in one hand, the wrist in the other. Then deliberately she brought her knee up and snapped his lower arm.

  He screamed and collapsed.

  Quickly she sat down and repositioned his arm so that the two big bones realigned. Then she glued the edges back together.

  She stood and watched them for a minute or so. Then she said to them, “Can you understand me?”

  First one then the other nodded. She squatted down so the two could see her face close up. She let her Maelgyreyt side show through.

  “If you or your bosses bother me again, ever, I will hunt you all down, wives, daughters, sons, cousins, babes, old ones. I will kill you all. And if you somehow kill me, others will come after me to finish the job.”

  She watched as all she’d said soaked in. It set in their minds, aided by messengers she’d injected into them.

  She stood. “Let’s go to our rooms.”

  The four companions were completely silent the rest of the way. As they stood at the elevators waiting for the conveyances to come down and open Naomi spoke to her.

  “I was right long ago when I wondered if you’d died and come back to us. You did. And you came back with something extra. But you’re still you. Still my friend. Aren’t you?”

  “Yes. But I’m not sure the rest can feel the same way you do.”

  Lee, Brigitte, and Gerard stood silent.

  ·

  The next morning at breakfast a florist brought a huge bouquet of roses to the table where the five friends sat. Beth opened the card and read the message engraved in real gold.

  The Prince of Monaco apologizes for any recent inconvenience to Bethany Rossiter and friends. You are invited to any casino in the Principality. May your stay here be pleasant.

  Lihua took the card from her hand and read it.

  “Think they mean it?”

  Bethany said, “We’ll see.”

  Naomi said, “They do. Publicity about any of this would impact their bottom line for years. Even one month would be...many millions lost.”

  Gerard said, “So we’re not going to be murdered in our beds?”

  Brigitte was frowning. “I think they checked out who Lee’s and Naomi’s parents were. I doubt even the prince of a country, especially one this size, is going to want to piss off either. Much less both. Hell, Naomi’s parents already control what amounts to, ah, France.”

  “Oh, come now,” said Lihua. “Let’s do the math.”

  She reached down to her purse, pulled out her info slate .

  “Assume France’s GNP is, roughly, uhm—”

  Brigitte huddled next to her. “You’ve got to take the net after taxes from—”

  The two descended into details.

  Gerard looked at Bethany, grinned, rolled his eyes, lifting his hands as if to say See what you started?

  And just like that the breach was healed.

  ·

  The beaches of the French Riviera were topless. They lolled under a beach umbrella which Gerard had set up. First Naomi then Lihua doffed their bikini tops. Brigitte threw up her hands and did the same. The tips of her breasts were palest rose.

  How could Bethany fail to follow their example?

  Gerard shuddered violently. He closed his eyes. “I’ve been stricken blind.”

  “Dumb ass.” “Dumber than an ass. A rock.” “Yes, dumb as a rock.” “How did they ever let him graduate?” “Got sick of seeing tho
se neon shirts and pants.”

  ·

  The five got back to their homes a week later without any more drama. They had much to tell their families and other acquaintances. Those listened, laughed, questioned, and commented. For a time. Then they lost interest. The five spoke more and more to each other. The stories became more exaggerated. Till they were laughing at how Bethany had vanquished twenty rather than two robbers.

  They spent a lot of time with each other: going to the movies, plays, hiking, to the beach. Brigitte accepted a job to join several other young women to model the fashions of a hot new female designer who’d bucked the trend to migrate to New York, Paris, Milan, London, or Tokyo. She’d rather be a big frog in a little puddle. The out-of-season show was a big success and Brigitte was singled out by one magazine for attention. They published more than a dozen photos of her in different clothes.

  By the end of the summer they were spending most of their free time together. Beth thought there was desperation in this. Something important to their lives was ending. But despite being a Wonder Girl superhero with many lives behind her she found herself falling under the desperation spell with the other four. She let herself fall.

  Then their time was up. They had one last meet, hugged, cried, and dispersed.

  Naomi went to Atlanta, Georgia, to a college at the forefront of the burgeoning “girls b’ball” movement, still a pale shadow to men’s basketball but already a billion-dollar industry.

  Lihua was accepted to every university she applied to, including CalSci in Pasadena, California. She chose M.I.T, however. Massachusetts was a terrific uni, but it also was a continent away from the gentle tyranny families could exert.

  Brigitte and Gerard went to essentially the same university, she to Barnard, he to Columbia, both in New York City. The establishments shared a street and recently Barnard, already co-ed, had become part of the Columbia umbrella.

  Bethany stayed home—if that was the right word. She could travel to anywhere in the solar system. And did. One day she traveled to Mars, moving at almost 80% of the speed of light by the time she arrived, fast enough to experience the effects of relativistic speeds. Stars in front of her shone blue-ish, stars behind her shone red-ish.

  She found it an enormous, lifeless, cold, almost airless, BORING landscape of mostly red sand .

  She thought to float above one of tallest mountains and carve I WAS HERE with her laser but thought better of it.

  On the way home she detoured further out to the asteroid belt. She found it equally boring. Just a bunch of big rocks, essentially, floating so far away from each other they were invisible to each other. Not at all like those movies that showed them close together and knocking into each other.

  She thought to travel to Saturn where the million-years-old subspace “subway station” englobed the planet. But she was not ready to encounter super-advanced powers which might consider her no more than an annoying fly and swat her.

  She traveled the planet, identifying herself when necessary as Sandrine Ascaride. Argentine tango could sometimes be found in the most out-of-the-way places. Even if she did not speak the language of the other dancers she spoke the universal language of dancing. In that sense she always had a home away from home and a family there even though it was adopted and only for a few hours.

  She also learned other dances, though at a rudimentary level. Most people, even enthusiasts, could only dance at rudimentary levels.

  She shopped, sending most of it home to stay in her closets in her Santa Monica apartment or sit on surfaces there or in a big glass cabinet as tchotchkes.

  Bethany picked up rudiments of a dozen languages. Often that was all one needed to get along in any country: Hello, Goodbye, Thank you, Where’s the toilet, Another please, Three of Those.

  And: I’ll kill you if you bother me. A phrase she had to use several times.

  Such a threat from a pretty young woman rarely worked. Turning her skin all-over bright red usually did. And when THAT did not work zapping them with painful lightning bolts always did.

  ·

  Sandrine Ascaride rang the doorbell to Bethany’s home. Her mother opened the door and looked at her. It was strange to see her mother when she was in another persona.

  “Hello. I’m Sandrine Ascaride. You must be Bethany’s mother.”

  “Yes, I am. Come in please.”

  The shapechanger did so. Beside and behind Rayanna was her father, Allan. His look was not a glower. But it was not welcoming.

  “Sandrine” offered her hand and a smile. He shook her hand.

  “And you must be Bethany’s father. I’m so pleased to meet you. And—” She turned to Rayanna. “—you.”

  Dr. Rayanna Corcoran said, “Please, come this way.”

  Sandrine followed her mother, her father followed her. She wondered if he was checking out her butt, as so many men did even if she was wearing demure clothing as she was now. It sickened her a bit to think that before she squelched the feeling.

  In the familiar living room her step-father and sort-of-stepmother Miri rose from the couch.

  Sandrine did not wait for them to come to her. She flowed around her mother and approached them, holding out a hand to each.

  Introductions done, her mother motioned Sandrine to an easy chair, the furthest of two which bookended the couch and helped form a U-shaped conversational area.

  Sandrine floated to rest more than sat.

  “Odd,” said her step-father. “That’s just how Beth sits.”

  “Oh? I’ve never thought about how I sit. But, hmm, Bethany is an athlete, as I am. Or was. I remember recognizing that when I first saw her.”

  “And just when was that?” said her father. His face had become subtly sympathetic. She recognized his interrogation style, developed in his early law-enforcement years as a Special Agent for the FBI. Even the hardest of criminals responded better to sympathy than to threats.

  “During that unfortunate incident with Stella’s father. I was at the table. I was just about to intervene when your daughter saved me the trouble.”

  Her step-father Nicolas leaned forward. “What happened there? Beth never told us much. Just that he was high on something and she had to help him out into another room.”

  Sandrine laughed. It was a clear, joyous soprano which penetrated every man’s deepest self. She had heard one woman laugh that way and practiced to make it Sandrine’s laugh.

  “Oh, dear. She did much more than that. Hmm, I suppose it won’t do any harm now to tell you what really happened. I hope she’ll forgive me.”

  All four parents were fully attentive. Sandrine had always regretted that she dared not let any of them know about her true nature. This would make up for that in a small way.

  “Stella’s father came swaggering in to a private party. The security had been lax. He was under an injunction never to approach her.

  “He demanded money from the ‘little bitch’ saying his allowance was not enough.

  “One of the men at the table stood up and told him to leave her alone. Quite gorgeous, an actor who plays action heroes. But the father, I refuse to remember his name, opened his jacket enough to show he had a gun in his belt. The poor darling sat down rather suddenly .

  “Your daughter stood up, just a tiny thing next to Dear Daddy, who is huge, and told him to ‘Please leave, sir’. He lifted his hand to brush her aside or slap her. I never knew what because she punched him in the gut.”

  She paused as if to savor the moment. And in memory, though it had not quite happened that way, she did.

  “I’ve never seen anyone move that fast, or hit that hard, especially from such a short distance. No more than a foot. It sounded almost like an axe striking wood.

  “He bent over and tried to reach for the gun. But she took his wrist, tiny hand on burly wrist mind you, pulled it down around back and up behind him. Hard.”

  Sandrine smiled.

  “He went up on his tiptoes and squeaked. Squeaked. Oh, it was
delightful. I wanted to stand up and cheer.”

  Rayanna did not believe it. Or wanted not to believe it.

  “My daughter?!”

  Sandrine sat back in her chair. She’d been sitting leaning forward as if telling something conspiratorial.

  “Oh, yes. I still remember it vividly.”

  Nicolas, sitting beside his wife holding one of her hands, looked at her.

  “I can believe it. I may see things you don’t, being a stranger.

  “Remember how she was taking that sport around that time, ai… ai…”

  “Aikido,” said Allan. “Aikido. It’s like Judo. We teach variations of in suspect apprehension classes.”

  “Well, she certainly apprehended him. She walked him out, him still almost on tip-toes and trying to bend over his gut at the same time. And that is the last anyone has heard of him.”

  “He died?” said Miri .

  “Oh, no. I mean he never came around his daughter again.”

  She sat quietly for a moment, appearing to look inside herself.

  “I sometimes think she must have said something to him in the other room. Something that absolutely terrified him. But that’s probably a fantasy of mine. What could she possibly have said that would last when his memory of the incident faded?”

  The four parents sat as if trying to digest what they’d heard.

  Miri recovered first. “You said the first time you saw her. When were the other times?”

  “One more time. Maybe two. At a distance at a party or premiere or something. While she was, ah, ‘gofering’ for someone.”

  “And that’s it?” said Allan, sympathy still in high gear. “For that you gave her a $70,000 car and a $10,000 bank account as a graduation present?”

  “That’s all the contact I’ve had with her. Physically. I’ve emailed her two or three times. And I’ve kept track of what’s happening with her via a Web service. I was intrigued by her.”

  “And I’ve kept track of you,” said Allan, his sympathy suddenly replaced by subtle menace. Sandrine was delighted. He could play ‘good cop’ and ‘bad cop’ both! And switch back and forth. The suspect would want the good cop to come back and save her from the bad cop.

  “What did you find out?” said Rayanna. “Why didn’t you tell me?”