Fragmented Spirits
Ben Gower smiled as Eddie Fortune set root beer floats in front of Abner Hala and the kids. Eddie did everything with a flourish and a smile and Ben wished he could keep him around forever, but the boy was destined for bigger things than jerking sodas.
Abner looked up just then, saw Ben, and nodded. That was as good an invitation as any. Ben strolled up. “Abner, it’s been a while. How’s life treating you?”
“I can’t complain.” Abner chuckled. “You’ve addicted these kids to your floats. I thought I’d see what all the fuss is about.” He sipped from his straw and nodded. “Not bad, Ben. Nice sharp root beer. You can taste it through the ice cream.”
Ben grinned. “We use Barq’s. None of that wimpy stuff around here.” He turned to Holly. “Good?”
“Great!” She smiled, looking so much like Carrie that it about broke his heart.
“I’m glad to see those bruises are fading.” He spoke quickly, afraid of turning maudlin. He saw Abner look at her arms, eyes narrowing.
“They’re almost gone.” Holly smiled.
“No more bad dreams?”
She shook her head.
“Bad dreams?” Abner asked.
Holly hesitated. “I dreamed this woman was grabbing my arms.”
“Pinching Pearl,” Ben said. “She dreamed about her and woke up with some nasty fingerprints.”
Abner glanced at Ben, then fixed his eyes on Holly, who stared steadfastly at her float. “Pinching Pearl. I haven’t heard that name in a long time.”
“Do you remember her?” Ben had a good twenty years on Abner, probably more.
“I saw her a couple of times when I was a little kid. She’d ride into town with Henry Hank Barrow in a big shiny Mercer Touring Car like they were royalty. Which I guess they were, back in those days.”
“I recall them parking out front of the pharmacy now and then.” Ben Gower shook his head. “They’d occasionally come in. To tell you the truth, even as a young man, if I saw Pearl coming I always tried to make myself scarce. My father, God rest his soul, understood.”
“Why were you afraid?” Holly spoke with the bluntness of a curious child.
“When I was a boy I, too, was pinched by Pearl.” He didn’t elaborate.
“She’s scary,” Holly agreed. “Were you afraid of my great-great-grandfather, too?”
“Yeah.” Memories crashed over him. Frightened horses, death in the hallways, H.H. Barrow and Pinching Pearl looming over him.
“Everyone was afraid of him, Holly.” Abner watched Ben. “Now, do you two want me to finish that story about the Hellfire Spirit?”
“Please, Grandpa!” Keith said as Holly, mouth full of ice cream, nodded.
“Hellfire Spirit?” Ben spoke quickly, relieved Abner had changed the subject.
Abner gave him half a smile and Ben turned, poured himself a cup of coffee, and rejoined them. “I’m all ears.”
“I was telling the kids how our tribe came here long ago and about the angry spirit of a medicine man who tried to stop them. He turned himself into the Hellfire Serpent and got trapped beneath the earth. The serpent died, but its spirit did not.” Abner looked at Ben. “The portal the Hellfire Spirit used is at the old haunted house on the trail to the hotel.”
“I can believe that,” Ben said. “I haven’t been up there in years. You mean to tell me that old house is still there?”
“It is. People sense it’s best to leave it alone.”
“Makes sense,” Ben said. “I remember when that house wasn’t so old, when it looked good, fresh paint and all. The trail used to run straight past it from the Clementine Hospital to town back then. It was meant to be a boarding house for the nurses and Pearl Abbott herself was the mistress of the place, but it didn’t last long.” Ben sipped coffee. “The young women didn’t like staying there. There were rumors of strange goings-on, as well as a few deaths, as I recall. Until today, I’d assumed all the problems at that house had to do with Pearl Abbott.” He paused. “They moved the trail in the mid-twenties so it came out at the new school - where the playground is now. The hike is longer, but no one’s ever complained.”
“It’s good they moved it,” Abner said. “The place where the portal is - where the house was built - attracted bad people. Good people thought it was haunted and stayed away, but it was really the elemental presence of the Hellfire Spirit they were sensing.” He looked at Keith and Holly. “By now, I’d venture to guess it has its share of ghosts, too.”
“Go on.” Ben sipped his coffee.
Abner cleared his throat. “From the beginning, our people avoided living near the portal, and the stories say that everything was quiet until we began mining for copper. Then, occasionally, when men dug a little too deep, the Hellfire Spirit would awaken and shake and rattle the earth, sometimes killing our people. The medicine men would work to put the spirit back to sleep.
“By the time the white man arrived and his mining operations began to grow, most of our people left for what is now the Verde Valley, Sedona, and Prescott. A few stayed, like my grandfather. He was a good blacksmith and his ironworks thrived and grew. That was around the time the camp was christened Brimstone.
“But the white man’s explosives and tools dug much deeper than our people ever had.”
He looked at Holly and Keith from beneath lowered brows. “The earth shook whenever the angry spirit stirred and many, many miners died over the next few decades. It’s said that there are still hundreds of bodies trapped beneath the earth, all captives of the Hellfire Spirit.”
“Captives of the Brimstone Beast.” Holly’s words were as solemn as a priest’s. Ben nodded, glad she realized they were one in the same.
“Indeed.” Abner stirred the dregs of his float. “In the old days, there were deaths every day, but man’s greediness knows no bounds, so the mining continued, growing until the camp was a town covered in a yellow pall of sulfur, as if to welcome the Spirit. The Beast. There were three big mining companies at work, and there were three hospitals too - each company ran its own. Between accidents and illnesses, the hospitals were always full-up.”
“Illnesses?” Keith asked.
“The air was no good in those days, thanks to the mines, so lots of people got sick. The whole of Brimstone Valley reeked of sulfur - of brimstone.” Abner shook his head. “It went on a long time, but the mining companies ultimately failed because it became impossible to dig deeper without disaster. As it was, Brimstone shook all the time, whether they were blasting or not. My grandfather and a few others had told the stories of the Hellfire Spirit to the white men because miners had been claiming to see things in the tunnels before disaster struck, and some townsfolk said they saw a serpent flying in thunderstorms. They named it the Brimstone Beast.
“Two of the mining companies closed - they were destroyed by earthquakes. Their hospitals crumbled, too, and no one tried to rebuild or clear the caved-in mines. The ores were buried too deep. It was too dangerous. But also, at that point, even the white man believed in the Hellfire Spirit.” He glanced at Holly. “That is, the Brimstone Beast.”
“The Clementine is the only hospital that didn’t fall down.” Holly stared at Abner, waiting.
“Indeed. Only the Clementine Mining Company - and its hospital - went unscathed.”
“Why?” Holly took the word right out of Ben’s mouth.
“Well,” Abner said, “There’s a theory, but you might not care for it, Holly.”
“Does it have to do with Infurnam Aeris?”
Abner’s eyebrows shot up. “You know about that?”
She nodded and spoke by rote. “It means ‘copper hell’ and it was my great-great-grandfather’s secret cult. He called himself the Brimstone Beast and they did really bad things.”
“Do you know what kind of bad things?” Abner asked carefully.
“Not exactly.”
“Some believe he used sorcery to get rid of the other mining companies. Who knows?”
Abner smiled. “So what else have you heard, Holly?”
“Not much. Can I ask you something?”
“Go ahead,” Abner said.
“Well, when Pearl Abbott pinched me in my dream, I saw her. And I saw her when I was awake, too - she was in the elevator staring at me. And when Keith and I went in that haunted house, I saw something there, too, but not her. It was this big misty thing, kind of like a tall, black, skinny cloud.”
“And it was super cold,” Keith said.
“Did you see it, too?” Ben asked.
Keith shook his head. “No, but I felt the cold. It was like ice cold goo or something.”
“Anyway,” Holly continued. “Both times I saw Pearl, she looked real. Alive.”
Abner nodded. “So what are you asking, Holly?”
“Well, I saw Pearl Abbott twice. But in the dream, I only heard my great-great-grandfather - I didn’t see him. Instead I saw this big shiny black dragon with blue fire under its scales and these orangey-red eyes. I knew that was the Brimstone Beast. But I heard a deep voice in my head telling me to climb on the dragon. I know it was Henry Hank’s voice, but it felt like the dragon was talking. It was weird.” She paused. “Anyway, I wouldn’t do it and that’s when Pearl grabbed me.”
“How did you get away?” Abner asked.
Embarrassment flashed across Holly’s face. “Miss Annie Patches. She’s a ghost cat. She jumped on me and woke me up.”
“Holly has a spirit animal, Grandpa,” Keith said. “Isn’t that neat?”
“You’re very lucky, Holly. But you still haven’t asked your question.”
“Why did I see Pearl Abbott but not my great-great-grandfather?” She hesitated. “Or why did he look like the Brimstone Beast in my dream? Adeline said he’s dangerous because he’s strong enough to show me the Beast. Is he the Beast or isn’t he?”
“Very good question, Holly.” Abner rubbed his chin. “Have you ever heard of a tulpa or a thought-form?”
“Yes. Adeline said the Brimstone Beast is a thought-form and that Henry Hank wanted to be ‘one’ with it. I don’t get it though. Does that mean he is the Brimstone Beast? Is that why he looked like a dragon?”
“It’s very hard to understand,” Abner told her. “I’m not sure myself, but I think Adeline is right, or mostly right. A tulpa or thought-form is what we call a creature created by a man’s imagination. But Henry Hank only thought he created the Brimstone Beast. He assumed he was giving existence to a purely mythical creature - to something he created himself. He probably didn’t know that the Hellfire Spirit - the Brimstone Beast - already existed.
“But it did. It existed independently and Henry Hank tried to bend something very powerful to his will. He assumed it was his own thought-form, but it was much more. If there is any truth in my people’s legends of the Hellfire Spirit, it’s that it is an elemental that has always carried human negativity with it. First the shaman’s, then Henry Hank’s, too.” He paused. “I hope this is making some sense?”
“Kinda.” Holly stared at him with impatience. “But what does it mean?”
“It means that your great-great-grandfather bit off more than he could chew. In trying to meld with the Brimstone Beast, he fractured his own human spirit. It’s fragmented, broken. I think that’s why it can’t be seen even by someone with your - or Adeline’s - gift.”
Holly nodded. “So that’s why I saw him as a dragon?”
“Maybe. Or maybe it’s a projection. The Brimstone Beast is unbroken and he is in some way part of it, so he can communicate through it. Do you understand?”
“Maybe. But the black cloud-”
“I think that is how you see his broken human spirit. I have heard that black clouds are sick spirits. It would make sense.”
Holly’s eyes grew wide and her words came out in a torrent. “Do you mean that black cloud in the haunted house is my great-great-grandfather's ghost? I mean, if Pearl lived there, it seems like it should be her, but wouldn’t I see her like a real person since I did before? I mean, I’ve seen a few other ghosts and they always looked like real people-”
Abner put up a hand. “Slow down. I think the black cloud is a fractured spirit, so it is probably your great-great-grandfather.”
“Really? Why is he there instead of at the hotel like Pearl?”
“Powerful spirits are not confined to one place,” Abner explained.
Ben spoke up. “For many years, Pearl and Henry Hank kept company at her house. It’s said they conducted many of their depraved Infurnam Aeris rituals there.”
“Holly,” Abner said, “the black cloud is almost certainly Henry Hank Barrow. You must not go in that house again. Either of you. Promise me.”
“I promise.” She paused. “Steve and I saw something else last night.”
“The Beast?” Ben asked.
She looked at him, surprised. “Yes.”
“I saw it, too,” Ben said. “Or thought I did. I was looking up at the old hospital. My eyes were probably playing tricks - it only lasted an instant. Something big and dark in the sky over the Grand. Might’ve been my eyes.” He smiled and lightened his tone. “But it was probably just a plane.”
“It wasn’t a plane. I dreamed about it,” Keith said.
Abner nodded gravely. “So did I.”
As soon as Arthur Meeks saw Little Miss Fancy Pants sashay out of the hotel, he grabbed his Polaroid camera and let himself into her room. He knew the maids didn’t clean her room - she did it herself - so he didn’t have to worry about being interrupted. Those maids thought the devil’s spawn was just the sweetest little thing, so clean, so polite, with a smile for everyone. Why she even knows our names, already!
Arthur knew better. Little Miss Fancy Pants never had a smile for him, nosireebob, and as he went through her laundry basket, checking her dirty clothes with eye, nose, and occasionally, tongue, he knew she was a dirty little girl.
Dirty enough to keep Methuselah at attention, that was for sure. Maybe even dirtier than that because, while there were two pairs of capris, two pairs of shorts, a dozen socks, and six shirts in the basket, there was no underwear. The beast in his Jockeys throbbed as he sniffed a last pair of shorts. “Don’t you wear your panties, little girly-girl?” he muttered as he dropped the shorts back in the basket and opened her dresser. “Are you studying to be a bad girl like your momma?” He took a Polaroid snap, so Little Miss Fancy Pants wouldn’t find anything out of place.
There were several neatly-folded pairs of panties there, all clean - he gave each pair a disappointing sniff test to be sure. He put one pink pair in his pocket and continued looking. There were several undershirts and two little lace training bras. He picked up one - pale blue with white lace - and rubbed it against his cheek, then replaced it before checking the other drawers. There were regular clothes in those, nothing the least bit entertaining.
In the bathroom, he found the missing underwear - three pairs hung over a towel rack. He took a photo then fondled and sniffed each pair in turn. One - lavender with purple elastic - was newly washed and quite damp. He pocketed that one then headed back into the living area and paused in front of the dresser again, his eye caught by a figurine. It was a smiling brown-robed monk with a bald head and rosy cheeks. He picked it up and realized it was a bank. He shook it and heard coins rattle and movement of paper. She had bills in there. Who knows how much money Miss Fancy Pants has socked away? He started to take it then decided to wait until his next visit; caution always paid off.
Next, he opened her refrigerator to see what she liked to eat. There wasn’t much in it, and it was all boring, but he opened the milk carton and spat in it, carefully returned it to the shelf, then did the same to a pitcher of orange juice.
Standing back, he smiled. “There you go, Little Missy - you’re going to swallow some Arthur Meeks and you’re going to like it.”
Momentarily, he returned to his room, and barely able to contain his excitement, he phoned down to the lobby and told that ol
d bitch, Piggy Moran, that he had a sour stomach but would be back at work within half an hour.
He sat down on his filthy bed, unleashed Methuselah, and baptized Little Miss Fancy Pants’ underwear with his own special brand of holy water and rubbed it into the material.
Less than fifteen minutes passed before he hung the lavender panties carefully back up in her bathroom and folded the slightly sticky pink panties into the drawer. He’d return later to get an unwashed pair to add to his collection. Meanwhile, he consulted his Polaroids and made sure everything was back in place.
Five minutes after that, Arthur Meeks, in the best mood he’d been in since he’d beat off while spying on Cherry Devine, was downstairs flirting with Piggy, who ate it all up like the stupid sow she was.
Halfway up the trail, Holly stopped to admire a compact plant coated with so many little yellow flowers that it looked like someone had dropped a bouquet at the edge of the path. She looked up at Abner and Keith. “It’s really nice of you to walk me back up the hill,” she told them. “You didn’t have to.”
Abner nodded. “I want to be sure no one throws any more rocks at you.”
“Are you afraid I’d go back to that haunted house?” Holly asked. “Because I wouldn’t. Not alone, anyway.”
“I’m glad. You’re a brave girl, Holly, that’s obvious.” He glanced at Keith. “And sometimes those who are young and brave do foolish things.”
“I already did,” she said simply. “On the way down.”
“Not too foolish, at least, but don’t even go look at it alone again. Things are worse than I thought and even if you aren’t frightened of ghosts - though I think in this case you should be - remember that bad places attract bad people.” He paused, hooking into her and Keith’s eyes with his somber gaze. “It’s a magnet for bad that way.”
“You mean maybe a bad person threw the rock, not a ghost?”
“Possibly,” Abner said. “If you two hadn’t told me about what you experienced yesterday, I wouldn’t even consider that a spirit had done it. Just a person.”
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