Free And Eternity by Piers Anthony Page A

hauling the spirit of the girl up.
Vita, this is Orlene, who will be animating your body for a while. She lost her baby son, and died of grief, and suffered again after death. She can tell you what it is like.
    Who cares? Vita demanded, retreating.
Why don’t you just let me sink to Hell, where I belong?
    Orlene asked
What do you know about Hell?
    Vita retorted.
It has no fear for me, after what I’ve seen on Earth
.
    You haven’t experienced what I have
, Orlene said.
Yeah? Well, I don’t want to know about it!
    That ended the dialogue. Jolie shrugged her host’s shoulders. At least it was a beginning.
    She had two ways to ascertain Vita’s situation. One was to establish enough of a rapport with the mind of the host to learn it from her. The other was to pick it up from ongoing experience. The latter seemed to be the choice.
    She returned to the main chamber and resumed her exercising. This time she ran in place, using the large muscles of her legs to give her heart and respiration a workout. It might be wishful thinking, but she thought the body’s tone was improving and the brain becoming more functional.
    There was a sound at the door. Then it burst open. A neatly dressed thug stood there, staring at her with brute disapproval. “What the hell you doing, running around baretit?” he demanded.
    Oops! Jolie had forgotten to don clothing after her shower, that being another detail that ghosts did not have to worry about. As a ghost she could assume any form, clothed or unclothed, that she desired, merely by concentrating on it. Once she had learned how to do that, she had done it so routinely that she was always garbed appropriately. But the physical host needed artificial garbing.
    The man was staring at her exposed torso, which was an embarrassment. His face showed disgust, which was a further embarrassment. Who was he, her captor?
    Now the man strode forward, one hammy hand reaching out to grab her shoulder. “Answer me, brat! What you think you’re doing? I didn’t tell you to dance, I told you to sleep it off.”
    “Sleep what off?” Jolie asked, twisting away. Immediately the hand swung up and clipped her on the side of the head, stingingly. “Don’t sass me, blackass!” Jolie was stunned both by the blow and the words. What had she done to deserve the first, even assuming this man had authority over her? What was the meaning of the name he had called her?
    “Now get dressed good,” the man said gruffly. “Got a special John tonight, likes ‘em young and lean and hurting, so you can scream and cry all you want, but no claws and no kicking. You get a sniff of H before so you can act lively, and more after if you make him happy. But first you eat; got to get more meat in your dugs so you can work up to the big time.” He strode to the shallow closet and checked the dresses there. “This one-make you look as young as you are. And a ponytail, and not much makeup. Look like some jerk’s niece. My niece, maybe. But don’t never forget you’re just a whore. Come on, get it grinding.’’ He shoved the dress at her.
    At last it was coming clear. This was what was called a pimp, a man who procured women for deviant customers. Vita was young, and it seemed there was an illicit market for sex with underage girls. The pimp was serving in lieu of a parent-a bad one, to be sure, but perhaps doing better for her than she would do alone on the street.
    The first thing Jolie had to do was get Vita out of this trap. But she realized that this would not necessarily be easy to do. With no information and no money, and under constant lock or guard, her options were quite limited. So she would have to play along for the time being, watching her opportunity to make her break.
    She dressed. The man actually did her hair, his fingers surprisingly skilled. He did know his business, however low that business might be. He wanted her to look childlike and innocent for this role, so that the client would be satisfied and