Free Elsinore Canyon by J. M. Page B

the vast spaces of the house. In appearance and movement it was pale and flighty, in mood it was manic, morbid, and maudlin. When it appeared, it possessed the body of someone familiar, and even, in its way, dear. Polly had made a few attempts to catch, engage, or banish it, to no effect. But his newest investigations made him consider it in a different light. He was drawn to it with fresh resolve.

    What was the point? Act like a meth-head, act like a nun, it was all the same. The cloak bothered the hell out of them, so she wore it constantly. Bastards. The ones who talked and smiled were the ones she trusted the least. Since that night on the roof, she felt free to treat them as she pleased, free to taunt and swear and riot all over town in ways she never could with her mother around—well, in ways she never would, because when her mother was around it was a whole different planet. She’d get back to normal when it was over, for her father. And Phil. Damn it, she had to cut through all the weirdness and get back to square one with him. And this “damn” and “hell” all the time. She never used to cuss to herself so much. If Phil could read her thoughts, he would hate them. She must purify her spirit before she sought him out again.
    She continued down the stairs in her cloak, incongruously layered over a short, frilly dress. In her arms was a boxed toy—an inflatable Batman.
    Polly stepped back against a wall and waited for her to come down. A few steps more, the view of her thigh changing, and he stepped forward. “Good afternoon!”
    “Jesus!” She dropped the box.
    Polly retrieved it for her as she tugged the sides of her dress. “Not Jesus,” he said with an ingratiating smile. He handed the box to her. “You know who I am.”
    Dana envisioned her mother’s luminous eyes, that seemed to reflect the best back to the best and the worst back to the worst. “I know your name. I shudder to think who you are.” She took the box from his hands and slithered around him.
    He followed her into a high-ceilinged solarium, still clutching the binder full of her e-mails. “Your friend.”
    “I don’t remember picking you.”
    “You seem awfully hostile these days. Outside Elsinore Canyon is one thing, but—”
    “And you seem pretty much like your usual self.”
    “Well, I—”
    “How’s Phil?” The question was sincere.
    “Phil?”
    “Your s— forget it.” She regretted asking.
    Polly followed her deeper into the solarium. “He got back from Alaska four days ago. You saw him, didn’t you? Yesterday.”
    A wave of venom rose inside Dana—her mother’s thoughts again. But venomous mocking was the prerogative of the truly superior. This was the same mother who would smack Dana down like a bug if she heard her saying the things she was saying now.
    “Polly, please drop it. Before I insult you to death.”
    “I doubt you could do that.”
    “I could try. Seriously, why are you stepping on my heels?”
    “I don’t mean to. It’s just that we’re both concerned about my son, I think.” He waded further in. “What if he had to keep far away from you? Not speak to you or contact you at all?”
    “You mean what if he were in prison?”
    “Heh, no. He’s a good boy.”
    “Then you mean, what if he were in a Swiss clinic being treated for a mysterious disease?”
    “Well, maybe, yes, like that.”
    Dana was in serious danger of having her mind fucked by Polly of all people. “Let’s see if you can answer a question,” she said. “How does it feel to be a coarse, unevolved, reptilian, failed experiment?”
    “You have changed.”
    “I’ve dropped my mask. Now answer my question, please. I want to know what it’s like to be green with envy that you don’t have a vagina. I simply can’t imagine, only one organ for excreting, engendering, and orgasming, and an ugly one at that.”
    “Very…you’re speaking of…”
    “All men, but you said you were my friend, so I’m hoping you’ll