L. L. Hitches a Ride
Little Leota watched. She was good at watching. She had seen many, many dreadful things in her life and afterlife that people had done that could get them into a lot of trouble. Oh, the stories she could tell. There was a lot of money to be had if she cared to be in the blackmailing business. But L. L. was not that sort of person.
Dead people did not need money.
This, however, was not something she thought she could keep quiet about. Scowling, her bright green eyes blazed as Emmaline, the mammoth nanny, dumped Myrriah's unconscious body into the ghostly limo's trunk. With hardly any force, Emmaline slammed the trunk lid down.
One of the tinted windows rolled down and Sally Shine stuck out her blond head. Little Leota became invisible and, for good measure, ducked behind the toppled birdbath. "Hurry up!" Sally shrieked. "Where are Gilbert and Carolyn?"
Gilbert stepped out of the front door and dashed down the steps, taking them two at a time. "Carolyn refuses to come with us. She's mad at me because of that little spat I had with the driver. It seems as if she's decided now of all times to grow a conscience." Scoffing, the actor slid into the passenger seat. "I knew she was the weakest of us from the start."
"And here I thought it was Dewey."
"Shut up, Sally," said Dewey.
The engine revved and the limousine began to slowly back out of the driveway. Stepping out from behind the broken bath, L. L. could feel panic rising in her chest. They would be gone in a second! She had no time to run in and tell the others.
She ran.
"I care…why? It isn't like she is a dear friend or anything." She sighed. But it was wrong, whatever they were doing. That was the point. Little Leota did not have very strong morals. After all, a woman who felt no guilt after murdering people raised her. Something in L. L.'s mind had snapped thirteen years ago, after her mother had broken free and had unleashed the forces of darkness upon the mansion and its inhabitants. They did not deserve to die in the first place, but to torture them so ruthlessly again was just despicable of her mother to do. She could not blame her mother for wanting to be free again, which was completely understandable. It was the whole "destroy all of the innocents" thing that L. L. found, after much contemplation, to be utterly and horribly immoral.
After Madame Leota had been put back into her prison, Little Leota had done a lot of thinking and had come to some conclusions. (1) She did not want to be exactly like her mother; (2) she had morals; (3) she also had a nagging conscience; (4)—
She jumped, barely missing the bumper and going through the trunk lid. "Hey!" she hissed, shaking Myrriah's arm. "Wake up!" The woman did not budge. Sighing, L. L. sat back and crossed her arms over her chest.
(4) She hated having morals and a conscience.
Dustin shoved his hands into his pockets as he dejectedly dragged his feet into the backyard cemetery. "Bloody brilliant, Dusty," he muttered. "Go and have a row with the guest and then with the master over a woman way out of your league." He groaned. "What was I thinking? I shouldn't have listened to—" He stopped. Someone was singing. It was a beautiful sound, melodic and haunting. Creeping around the gravestones, he finally discovered the source.
Carolyn stood on a hill, watching the sun set. Her voice sent chills through him. He did not want to interrupt her, so he just stood back and let the song fill the night air.
Will I be remembered, A year after my death?Will anyone know me,
After I take my last breath?
How can a stone,
A slate of gray,
Have everything about me
And what I wish to say?
How can I slumber peacefully
And dream death's dreams,
When what they know about me
Is far from what it seems?
What of me will they speak of?
My hopes and dreams, I'm sure.
But are they ever gonna mention
Those things that made me not so pure?
Bad instances will not be spoken,
Out of respect for the dead,
But what I want remembered,
Is the truth instead.
Unable to contain himself any longer, Dustin exclaimed, "That was marvelous, Carolyn!"
With a gasp, she spun to face him. "What are you—Really? You think so? Gilbert never likes the songs I write. He thinks they're too morbid."
"Well, it wasn't exactly cheerful. But…" That weak confidence he always felt around her emerged again, making his doubt dissipate. He grasped her hands and looked into her eyes. "It was beautiful too."
She looked up at his honest emerald eyes. He really was such a sweet man. She felt as if she had used him. Who was she kidding? She had used him! She had used everyone here and now if she didn't tell him the truth—
"Dustin, I'm not who you think I am."
"What do you mean?" His smile wavered ever so slightly, as if he was preparing himself to not believe whatever it was she was going to tell him.
"Your friend is in danger."
Ezra knocked on the bedroom door. "Hey, Myrriah. Are you in there?"
"Maybe she's asleep," suggested Phineas doubtfully.
The skeletal spook pounded with his fist. "Are you there?"
"OPEN UP!" Gus screamed and hit the door with his metal ball. Nothing happened.
"I don't like this," mumbled Phineas. "Something's wrong. I'd say I've got a bad feeling in my gut, but I don't have one."
"All right," announced Ezra, "we're coming in. If you're not decent…then, well, it'll be our lucky day then, won't it?"
"Ezra!" his friends chided, feigning shock.
"Please," he scoffed. "Since when were you two such prudes?" They stepped through the door.
The first thing they noticed was the complete lack of the mortal. The second was that her coat was on the floor. Myrriah was not a neat freak, but she was tidy. Also, given the fact that she had such a crappy car, chances were that she wasn't exactly rolling in dough, so she wouldn't want to ruin such a nice coat. Phineas bent down to pick it up and noticed something else. Two orange tubes were sticking out of the pocket. On closer inspection, he found out they were pill containers with the lids off. He picked them up.
"What's that?" asked Gus, sniffing the empty containers.
Before Phineas could answer, Dustin and Carolyn barged into the room. "We're too late!" cried the singer. "This is all my fault!"
"You know what's going on here?" asked Ezra.
As Carolyn began to reply, someone started sobbing. It was faint at first, but steadily growing louder. "Now what?" the skinniest groaned. The floating candelabra approached them, drooping forlornly.
"He's gone," moaned Prudence. "Dewey Todd left without even saying good bye to me! Right in the middle of the dance, he just suddenly ran away. I can't believe he'd do that to me! He was the only friend I ever had!"
Phineas snapped his fingers and his carpetbag appeared at his side. He reached into it and pulled out a handkerchief. Not knowing exactly where Prudence's hand was, he held it out in the general vicinity. Grateful, she snatched it and blew her nose loudly.
"Thanks," she said, handing the wet rag back to him.
Dry heaving, he put it back into his carpetbag.
Sniffling, Prudence continued. "He even helped me clean the rooms before the party." She peeked in. Actually, the other ghosts guessed she peeked in by the motion of the candles. "Hmm. He didn't do a good job with this one. He left the coat on the floor. Oh well. She probably won't even notice anyway."
"Wait," Phineas interjected. "The bellhop was in here?"
"That's what I just said, isn't it?"
Carolyn closed her eyes, a feeling of regret washing over her. "He drugged her."
"With what?" asked Dustin. "Carolyn, you still haven't explained why Myrriah is in trouble. Why would he drug her? Where is she?"
"I can answer the first question," said Phineas. He waved the little bottles. "Prescription pain killers and muscle relaxers. They're for that problem with her nerves. Our good buddy Dewey Todd must have emptied the remainders of them into the drink he served her."
Dustin slumped back, nearly falling through the wall. Carolyn caught him and pulled him up. "I didn't think she was doing that poorly," he mumbled. "She said it was nothing."
Ezra shrugged. "The kid's had it rough ever since she came out of the coma."
The tune of "Grim Grinning Ghosts" chimed through the house as the doorbell rang. George's voice could be heard as he said proudly, "Maybe we don't need that stuck-up snot after all. Welcome foolish—Ms. Carlson!"
Quickly, Dustin, Carolyn, Ezra, Phineas, and Gus, ran to the foyer. Prudence stayed behind to sulk and rip up some pillows.
"It's Mrs. Burton now," said Courtney, with that same playful smile she had thirteen years ago. Like Myrriah, not much had changed. She had grown up, of course, matured quite a bit, but that mischievous twinkle in her large hazel eyes had never left. That same sparkle could be seen in the eyes of her infant daughter, Alexandria, who was clutched in her arms. Courtney's thick, shoulder length light brown hair was styled nicely, as opposed to the "bed head" look she had sported as a kid.
Paul was with her too, beaming as the ghosts "ooh-ed" and "aww-ed" over Alex. He had changed the most. Having to sprint after will o' the wisps and supposed fairies and spirits to get that perfect photo had shed most of the chubbiness. His face was still round, but now sported a thin, trim beard. He had, despite how contrary it was to his earlier beliefs, exchanged his thick glasses for contacts. His thick black hair was still as messy as always. Although, whether this was from the old habit or from being up and down with the baby, it was hard to tell.
"Whoa!" said Paul as Dustin approached. "Somebody got dragged into a zoot suit riot."
Courtney looked up, stifling a giggle. "Hi, Dustin. That's, uh, an interesting look for you."
"I miss my top hat and duster," the coachman admitted. The urge to welcome her and her husband back and gush over the baby was squelched by much more important matters. "Myrriah's missing."
"What?" asked Courtney. The ferocity in that little word could not be missed. Courtney was a goof, for sure, but when it came to her best friend—and now her new daughter—she was like a mother lioness. Mess with whomever she considered part of her brood and the claws came out.
"She was kidnapped."
"By who?" It was easy to imagine those pretty red lips curling back to reveal healthy pink gums and fangs.
Carolyn answered. "Sally Shine."
"Who is—"
"Evil child star. Look, we need to get to Hollywood and fast."
"Hollywood?" gasped Paul in disbelief. "I had to drive like a bat out of—" He looked at Alexandria. "H-E-Double hockey sticks to get here so quick. But it's only like a ninety-minute drive from our house to here. California is clear on the other side of the country! There's no way."
Dustin looked thoughtful as he looked out the window. Out front, he could see the ghostly tour bus. In the ballroom, the band was throwing a party. They wouldn't miss it. "Of course there is," he said.
"Don't say it," said Courtney.
"It's my line," warned George.
Dustin cocked his feathered hat coolly. "There's always my way."
Groggily, Myrriah woke up. She was lying on her back on cement. Slowly, she stood. Luckily, she had her cane. Whoever had abducted her was nice enough to leave her that. The dizziness she had felt was ebbing away, replaced by mere confusion. All around her were strange devices of some sort. It was too dark to really discern anything.
"Are you okay?" asked a small voice beside her.
Myrriah looked down and to her right to see Little Leota. "I think so. Where are we? Some kind of boiler room?"
L. L. pursed her lips. "Close."
"How did we get here?"
"Emmaline just hefted you into the trunk of the limo. I followed. After we got to this place, I went invisible and she dumped you in here. I waited until you regained consciousness before reappearing so they wouldn't know I was with you."
"Oh," gushed Gilbert's voice. "We knew. Welcome to the Hollywood Tower Hotel, Ms. Harolds, Little Leota." Suddenly, all of the machinery around them started to spring to life. Myrriah could clearly now see thick cords as they began to unwind. Electricity shot up them like thin, azure snakes. "Or as we like to call it the Tower of Terror."
A/N: The song Carolyn sings was a poem I wrote for my creative writing class last year.
"Zoot Suit Riot" was the name of a song by Cherry Poppin' Daddies. It was also the name of fights that broke out in the late thirties, but I won't go into that.