…Eduardo Maria Santos returned home from the pharmacy with a bottle of aspirin for his headache, walked into the bathroom and found someone who simply wasn’t there writing across his mirror.
The lipstick had been left by Xenia years ago. It was sentimental to have kept it but he had. He’d all but forgotten it was in his cabinet.
The writer had almost finished when he came through the door and saw the tube of bright lipstick clatter into the sink. The “o” in his name was missing. The message read:
YOU TOO, EDUARD
He got out of there, fast.
DODGSON
They sat on the Harlequin’s terrace together comparing notes.
They sounded a little insane.
And he wondered if they all could feel what he was feeling, a cold drift up the backbone, as though she were right beside them.
“It’s Lelia,” he said.
They looked at him.
“Come on, Robert,” said Danny. “You saw her. Drachmas over the lips, remember?”
“I know. It’s nuts. But I swear it’s her. I know it’s her.”
“She’s dead for chrissake!”
A man in a light summer suit was sitting across from them. Dodgson wondered if he could hear. He decided he didn’t much care.
“Wait. Let’s think it through. Look at the possibilities. They haven’t found the body. So? There are instances of people…reviving, aren’t there?”
“Unh-unh,” said Eduardo. “Won’t wash. That’s fine for somebody tugging at your ankle maybe and for Xenia’s money. But you forget. I saw that goddamn lipstick and there was nobody home. Not a fucking soul."
“He’s right,” said Billie. “You can’t explain what happened in bed to me that way either. Either I was…”
“Mass delusion?” said Michelle.
Billie nodded, then went on. “Either I was manufacturing it somehow out of my own paranoia, or else it was…”
“What? It was what?” He’d never seen Danny so defensive. “Are you trying to tell me we’re haunted?'
And that was when the man at the table across from them leaned over and said, “Yes, I believe you are.”
Dodgson jumped.
Then he had a look at him. He looked like a businessman on a holiday. A successful businessman. Good suit but a little formal, slightly out of place here. A clear strong voice and steady eyes. And serious as hell.
Who was this guy?
“Jordan Thayer Chase,” the man said to him. “And I may be able to help you. On the other hand, don’t bet on it.”
The man smiled.
He was the only one who did.
BILLIE
“Can you accept the notion that people can be psychic? Know things that are normally hidden?’
“I guess so,” said Dodgson. "Telepathy, at least.”
“That’s part of it. But you’ll have to go one better. You’ll have to consider that it’s possible to see things that happen or have happened very far away. Or things that haven’t even occurred yet-sometimes very vaguely and sometimes quite clearly-and know that they will happen, like it or not. Know that they have to happen.”
He looked at each of them in turn.
“I don’t know about that,” said Dodgson.
“I do,” said Chase. “That’s the point.”
Billie liked him. She was going by instinct but she liked him right away. There was something real and straightforward about the man despite the insanity he was confirming-and something humane as well. He acted as if he cared, though they’d only just met. She believed he did. “The first thing you’d better tell me,” he said, “is who she is.”
“Wait a minute. Hold on.”
Danny’s having an awful lot of trouble with this, she thought. “Hold on a second. Nothing’s happened to us-to me and Michelle. Why’s that?”
“You sure?” asked Dodgson.
“Nothing that I can remember.”
He glanced at Michelle. She shrugged.
“Nothing,” said Danny. “Nothing at all."
“It will,” said Chase. “You killed her."
Danny’s face went white.
“How in hell…who told you?”
“It’s written all over you. Think of me as one of the few around who can read the writing.”
“The police?”
“No, I haven’t spoken to them.”
“Bullshit. How do I know that?”
“You don’t. You’ll just have to trust me. Look, if I were here to con you, would I check in with the police beforehand? Does that make sense?”
“You’re telling me we got ghosts here?”
“I don’t know what you’ve got. I don’t know what she is.”
“I trust him, Danny,” said Michelle.
“I do too,” said Billie.
Eduardo and Xenia nodded. “So far,” said Xenia.
“Okay,” said Dodgson, “for now you’ve got our vote of confidence.”
Chase smiled. “Good. But I’ve got to be straight with you. I know this thing I’ve got and how it works basically and I think I know at least part of what’s going on here. But I can’t say I’ve got the answers for you. Far from it. There’s a lot you’ll have to fill me in on. Which brings me back to my first question. Who is she?”
“A woman I met in Crete,” said Dodgson. “Lelia Narkisos.”
The man went rigid.
“Who?”
“Her name is Lelia Narkisos. We met in Crete, in Matala, and I…”
“Excuse me.”
He got up suddenly and rushed inside the bar.
He’s going to be sick, thought Billie.
He knows her!
She took Dodgson’s hand. Xenia lit a cigarette. The wind gusted through the narrow street.
They sat silent until he returned.
“Sorry,” he said. He sat down.
“You know her,” said Dodgson.
“Yes, I do. In Canada, we met at a party-it was months ago. Three months, three and a half, I don’t know. Both of us…we were strangers there. And I…” He shook his head. “And I think I met her again, last night. She wasn’t…the same. Her hair was red. Her face and body…entirely different. But I should have known…the eyes. I should have known those eyes. I thought I’d know them anywhere.”
He stopped. He sat there thinking and then a moment later she could see something dawn on him. For the very first time he scared her.
“I wonder if it’s her,” he said. “Maybe. Maybe it’s been her out there all the time, drawing me, getting me here. My god. I think it’s me she wants.”
Dodgson shook his head. “Then you’d better think again. Looks to me like it’s all of us.”
For a moment Chase seemed puzzled. Then he nodded.
“You’ll have to tell me everything,” he said.
They did.
***
By the time it was over it was early evening. Chase sighed and leaned back in his seat.
“Well, one thing’s clear. You’d all better get off the island as fast as possible.”
“Fine with me,” said Danny.
“There’s a ferry tomorrow at four o’clock,” said Xenia. “Also a plane direct to Athens at ten.”
“Be on it. All of you.”
“We work here,” said Xenia. “Eduardo and I have jobs here, homes here.”
“Leave them. Leave them for now. You can come back when all this…when this is over.”
“What about you?” said Dodgson.
To Billie, Chase suddenly looked very old.
“How much do any of you know about Delos?” he asked.
‘The birthplace of Apollo and Artemis” said Xenia. “And Dionysos was worshipped there. A very holy place in ancient times. Now it’s mostly ruins.”
“I’m supposed to go there.”
“You’re supposed to go there?” said Danny.
“That’s right.”
“Is this really the time to play tourist?”
&
nbsp; Chase smiled. “Sight-seeing has nothing to do with it. Believe me, Delos is still a very holy spot. It always will be, priests or no priests. It’s like the Valley of Kings or Easter Island or Stonehenge-a place where there’s power, real power, something that leaks right out of the ground. In a place like that, every bell in hell goes off for somebody like me. But anybody is likely to feel something.”
He looked at Danny. “You don’t believe me? Try visiting a few. I can give you a list Try the valley of central Mexico, some of the ancient ruins there. Go to Tlaxcala and I warn you you can feel what it was like to be part of an entire culture gone visionary or crazy or both, where all your gods had fangs and claws and names like Eater of Filth or Lord of the Flayed and wore belts of human phalluses.
“I don’t know what causes them but they’re not in short supply anywhere on the earth-I tripped over one in the woods north of Cape Elizabeth once, another in a dingy little apartment building in lower Manhattan-but Greece has a whole lot more than its share. I just left one. Mykene. And I swear to you, it sings.
“Something there got me here. I’m hoping it’ll get me back again.”
Dodgson nodded. “You think this has something to do with…our problem?"
“Yes I do. I don’t know what.”
“And you’re going to try to end it”
“I’m going to do what I think I’m supposed to do. Maybe that’ll end it.”
“And if not?”
“I suspect you’ll know if it hasn’t.” He stood up.
“I’m going to need some sleep,” he said. “Let me suggest that none of you stay alone tonight. I don’t want to alarm you but I suggest that very strongly.”
“He doesn’t want to alarm us,"’ said Danny.
Dodgson ignored him. “And you?”
“I’ll be fine. But the rest of you take care of one another. I’ll meet you at the port tomorrow morning at say, eight o’clock?”
“All right”
“Good night,” he said. He waved to them over his shoulder.
The wind was still up and Billie shivered.
“I wonder what he did to her,” she whispered to Dodgson.
He finished his drink. “Probably nothing. With Lelia you didn’t have to.”
She thought he knew better.
TOURIST GIRLS
Kostas was angry, and a little drunk.
These damn American girls kept too much to their own. He’d been in the bar two hours and was getting tired of the words, No, thank you. The best of them, the dark-haired woman in the comer with the halter top, was surrounded by three men at all times-Americans, like she was. He couldn’t get near her. The rest huddled together like sheep.
Why did you come to Greece and not want to meet Greeks?
What was wrong with these tourists?
TK’s was closing soon. Apart from die old gnarled fisherman who just sat there with his Metaxa three-star he was the only Greek in the place. The old man had been drunk when Kostas arrived. He still was. The old man was the only one in the bar who looked more foolish than Kostas did.
The old man had hungry eyes.
Hungry for what? One of these putanas?
Maybe for the old days, he thought-for bouzouki.
The music was all American now or Europop and Kostas did not dance. Beautiful women all around him, dancing, touching, sweating, and he was blessed with a pregnant wife and no sense of rhythm. The god of his fathers was no damn god of mercy. At least the fisherman- his name was Theodora-could dance the old dances, the hasapiko, the kalamatianos, if given a chance. He’d seen him.
He hoped the old man would not get the opportunity tonight.
He could bear just so much humiliation.
***
But there! Dammit!
He checked his watch-a Bulova. It was almost two o’clock. It had been Bowie or Madonna all night long and here it was the last dance probably and they gave the old bastard a serviko! He knew it! The last indignity was to have to watch this drunken old lecherous fool. To hell with the god of his fathers! Gahmoh teen Panagyeea mu! I fuck my Virgin Mary!
Just look at him!
Girls all around him all of a sudden. American girls, who like to play at being Greek but do not fuck Greeks, do you, girls. Don’t worry, old man. You’re safe tonight. Nine or ten of them around and now the music’s too fast for the old malaka and the women are doing the hora or the Mexican Hat Dance or some goddamn thing, paying him no attention at all as he tries to teach them. Drunk! All of them drunk!
He thought they had no pride.
A Greek has pride.
He drank the last of his seven-star and ordered another. The waitress told him it was last call. He shrugged. Of course it was. The waitress put his drink in front of him and he gave her an appraisal. Not bad. He actually liked fat thighs. So long as they were not too fat of course.
The woman who walked through the door, however, did not have fat thighs.
The woman was sleek and elegant.
She took one look at the children cavorting with the drunken old man and nearly walked out again. Then she saw Kostas.
And he could not believe it He had made the woman pause. He! Kostas! He felt himself blush with pleasure.
But now he must do something.
He smiled.
It was not much to do.
Shit!
To his surprise she smiled back. She's not even drunk! he thought. I would bet on it!
She inclined her head, motioning him toward the door.
He did not even finish his Metaxa. He slid off the chair and was beside her in an instant.
She was taller than he was. He was a little dismayed. But no matter.
He held the door for her and from behind he had a chance to look at her. Her dress was black-some sheer thin material cut almost to the waist in back and wide at her long graceful neck. She was thin, yes, but her legs were wonderful. And her ass! He would have killed his sister for that ass! Just to hold it between his hands and whisper to it in the night…
He could think of nothing to say that was not completely stupid so he said nothing.
She smiled at him again.
What a mouth! What eyes!
His pulse was racing.
“Let’s walk, shall we?” she said.
A good idea. He had to sober up for her. The cool night air would help. He would walk firmly, breathe deeply. A longish walk, perhaps. Romantic, by the sea. Though of course that was up to her.
“Yes,” he said.
They walked silently up to the windmills. He watched her look down to the rocks below. The moon made the water sparkle.
“Down there,” she said.
“Yes…it’s nice.”
He wished his English were better.
They started down. Her shoes were not made for climbing but she was very surefooted, as sure as a donkey-better than he was because of the brandy.
Halfway down he had a wonderful idea.
He would have her there, on the rocks.
He could barely contain his pleasure at the notion. Yes! his business might fail, his wife might give birth to a hundred squalling malakas, get fat and grow a mustache and a beard as well for all he cared. Just give him this woman, this night, here by the sea in the shadows of the windmills of Mykonos and he would rejoice for the rest of his life.
It was almost as though she’d read his mind.
“Want to go down to the rocks?”
“Oh yes. Very much.”
“Good,” she said and grabbed his arm.
And her fingers were strong as a vise as she hauled him out in front of her and held him there over the drop. He whimpered once. Then she shoved him out away from her down to the rocks below.
He fell and did not die.
He lay there, spine cracked, brain leaking, and through blood-filled eyes saw her leap from where she stood twenty feet above him and land like a leaf within inches of his thighs and then reach down with the long sharp nails he had not
noticed before but which glittered now in the moonlight and saw her tear him open and break apart his chest with her elbows askew like a hunter setting his trap.
Then he saw nothing.
He felt no pain.
Perhaps, he thought, it was the seven-star Metaxa.
BILLIE
They walked home past the Sunset Bar, the windmills in the distance. Water slapped at the rocks beside them. The waves were still high. They had to wait for one to break over the concrete platform where the carpenter used his saw horses during the day. They watched it recede, then they splashed across the platform to the higher ground behind the Caprice. They walked toward Spiro’s past the little stretch of sandy beach that was now almost entirely under water. The moon passed behind a cloud. It was very dark.
She could barely make out the little boat in dry dock there. Until the cloud passed by.
And then she saw the eyes. Watching them from beneath the hull.
Watching them from behind the piled-up tables and chairs of the darkened open-air restaurant ahead.
Cats.
Dozens of cats.
She stopped. She clutched Dodgson’s arm.
She felt his puzzlement, then felt it turn to awareness.
The eyes stared. Neither moved nor shifted. She could see the huddled bodies.
And she thought what a dozen cats could do all at once, because she knew what one could do-she felt it again very vividly.
Ten pounds of claws and teeth and speed and hard muscle that had ripped at her like some mad otherworldly weapon…
“Dodgson.”
“Billie, she can’t command the animals.”
Can’t she?
Go back, she thought.
She turned. But now there were more behind them. Sitting there silent, waiting in the dark by the Sunset Bar.
She shuddered-it gripped her and continued, turned to a trembling that was uncontrollable and had nothing at all to do with ocean breezes.
“Walk,” he said. “Go slowly.”
She held back. He tugged her gently forward.
The eyes followed them, rippling reflected light as though in a prism.
They passed the boat. The eyes followed.
Nothing moved.