Cursed!

Siwanna's office was a riot of clashing patterns. Tiki masks grinned from the walls alongside framed celestial charts. A miniature palm tree swayed precariously in the corner, next to a filing cabinet overflowing with manila folders labeled things like "Grumpy Gnomes Gone Postal" and "Misplaced Karma, Size Small."

Jamela blinked, trying to absorb the sensory overload. Hank, ever the picture of composure, cleared his throat theatrically.

"So, Siwanna," he began, "about Jamela's little situation..."

Siwanna plopped into a plush armchair shaped like a pineapple, patting the seat beside him. "Ah, Hank, my boy. Don't worry your fuzzy little head about it." Hank shot him a withering look, but Siwanna continued, oblivious.

"See, Jamela," Siwanna said, turning to her with a warm smile, "the Fortuna Elixir is a tricky potion. It can mess with fate's little… well, doorways. Now, yours just happened to open a bit too wide."

Jamela's scowl deepened. "Doorways? What doorways? And why didn't you warn me about any of this?" Her voice trembled with anger, not fear. This was her life, and they'd messed with it without her consent.

Siwanna leaned forward, his concern evident despite his usual jovial demeanor. "Jamela, there are things we can't explain here. You see, dear, there are… lingering souls. Lost souls, some might say. They hold grudges the size of Texas and refuse to move on to the next plane. Nasty business."

He glanced at Hank, who rolled his eyes but couldn't quite hide a fond smile. "Hank here knows all about it. Been chasing after these rogue souls for centuries, haven't you, my boy?"

Hank spluttered, his face reddening. "Siwanna! There's no need to embarrass me in front of Jamela!"

Jamela, for her part, found the whole scene infuriating. Here she was, stuck in the middle of their bizarre father-son dynamic, with her life turned upside down.

Siwanna chuckled, a twinkle in his eye. "Relax, relax. The point is, these… disgruntled souls… well, they had their eyes on you, Jamela. But the Fortuna Elixir, with its quirky way of working things out, decided seeing ghosts might be a good deterrent."

Jamela's mind reeled. Powerful, vengeful souls? This afterlife business was getting a lot more complicated than free coffee and questionable pizza choices. Anger burned hot in her chest.

"But why me?" she demanded, her voice tight with fury. "Why not just warn me? Why turn my life into a ghost hunting nightmare?"

Siwanna patted her hand reassuringly, his smile strained. "That, my dear, is something you'll have to find out for yourself. There are forces at play here, a kind of… curse, you might say. But don't worry, you're not alone in this. You've got Hank, the Bureau's finest ghost wrangler..."

Hank puffed up his chest at the title, a small, self-satisfied grin spreading across his face.

"And me," Siwanna continued, winking. "Besides, how bad can it be with durian pizza on the horizon?"

Jamela glared at him. Buckle up? She wasn't going on a joyride. This was her new reality, forced upon her by fate and a malfunctioning potion. A reality filled with vengeful souls and bureaucratic nightmares. But one thing was certain: she wasn't going down without a fight.

Siwanna's enthusiasm seemed to hang heavy in the air, a stark contrast to Jamela's simmering anger. She yanked her hand away from his comforting touch.

"A curse? You're telling me I have a curse and you can't even explain why?" Jamela's voice was a low growl, the kind that promised a coming storm.

Hank, sensing the rising tension, interjected with a nervous chuckle. "Now, Jamela, let's all just calm down a bit. Siwanna didn't mean to keep you in the dark. There are just some things..."

"Things the Bureau keeps secret?" Jamela interrupted, her eyes flashing. "Things that affect people's lives without their consent?"

Siwanna sighed, the jovial twinkle in his eyes dimming. He leaned back in his pineapple chair, the plush cushion groaning under his weight.

"Jamela," he began, his voice taking on a gentler tone, "there are forces at play here that even the Bureau doesn't fully understand. We can help you navigate this, but some answers… well, they might have to come from a different source."

Jamela crossed her arms, a wall of skepticism around her. "What source? A magic eight ball? A Ouija board reading with the vengeful souls themselves?"

Hank winced at her sarcasm, but Siwanna remained unfazed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, ornately framed picture. It showed a smiling Asian couple, their faces etched with the kind of love and happiness that comes from a lifetime spent together.

"Your parents," Siwanna said softly, placing the picture on the desk between them. Jamela stared at it, a flicker of recognition sparking in her eyes.

"They know more about this curse than we do," Siwanna continued. "They've been… keeping an eye on things. But there were reasons they couldn't tell you before."

Jamela's scowl deepened. Reasons? What reasons could possibly justify keeping her in the dark about a curse that could potentially endanger her life? A million questions swirled in her head, each one demanding an answer.

"Why not?" she finally managed, her voice barely a whisper.

Siwanna hesitated, a flicker of sadness crossing his face. "It has to do with the nature of the curse itself, Jamela. They wanted to protect you, to give you a normal life for as long as possible."

Jamela scoffed. "Normal life? Seeing ghosts is about as normal as it gets."

Hank cleared his throat. "Actually, seeing ghosts isn't exactly normal. But trust me, it's not the worst part of this job."

Jamela ignored him, her gaze fixed on the picture of her parents. They looked happy, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing around their daughter. A bitter taste filled her mouth. How long had they known? And why hadn't they said anything?

Sensing her turmoil, Siwanna reached out and placed a hand over hers. "We understand you're angry, Jamela. And you have every right to be. But your parents love you very much. They'll explain everything when the time is right."

Jamela pulled her hand away, the anger simmering just beneath the surface. "When is the right time? When a vengeful soul decides to snatch me away?"

Siwanna shook his head. "It won't come to that. We'll protect you. But for now, the best course of action is to contact your parents. They'll be able to shed more light on the situation."

Jamela stared at the picture, a wave of conflicting emotions threatening to drown her. Anger, fear, and a strange sense of betrayal battled within her. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to speak.

"How do I contact them? I don't have my phone here" Her voice was hoarse, laced with a vulnerability she hadn't intended to show.

Siwanna's smile returned, a touch hesitant this time. "There's a special burner phone we use for these kinds of situations. It allows for communication across planes, so to speak. Here, let me show you."

He rummaged through a drawer in his pineapple desk, pulling out a beat-up flip phone that looked like it belonged in a museum. Jamela eyed it skeptically. This was their high-tech solution?

Siwanna chuckled, noticing her expression. "Don't let looks fool you, Jamela. This little guy can connect you to anyone, anywhere, on any plane of existence." He winked.

He punched in a series of numbers on the keypad, the worn plastic beneath his fingers leaving a faint trail of dust. The phone buzzed, a holographic image flickering to life above the screen. It showed a bustling marketplace, filled with vibrant colors and strange creatures. In the foreground, Jamela recognized her parents, they are walking through a fresh market to find their daily ingredients.

"There you go," Siwanna said, handing her the phone. "Now, you can demand your answer."

Jamela hesitated, the phone feeling heavy in her hand. A lifetime of questions hung in the air, a tangled mess of emotions threatening to spill over. But the idea of using the Bureau's burner phone right here, in Siwanna's chaotic office, felt wrong. She needed privacy, a space to process everything that had just happened.

"Actually," she blurted out, surprising even herself, "can I maybe go home first? I, uh, I think I should call them there with my own phone."

The truth wasn't a complete lie. Jamela did occasionally forget her phone at home, absentmindedly leaving it on the charger. But this time, the forgotten phone was an excuse, a way to buy herself some time.

Siwanna raised an eyebrow, his gaze flickering between Jamela and Hank. Hank, bless his clueless heart, simply shrugged.

"Sure, Jamela," Siwanna finally said, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. "Go home. But don't take too long. You guys have a lot to discuss."

Relief washed over Jamela. "Thank you," she managed, her voice sincere. "I won't."

Grabbing her bag, she made a hasty exit from Siwanna's office, the weight of the burner phone suddenly oppressive in her pocket. She needed to get out of the Bureau, away from the prying eyes and even prying questions. She needed some space to breathe, to sort through the jumble of emotions swirling inside her.