James Swain - Shadow People

“Yes, I believe him,” she said.

“Then I would say you are off to a wonderful start. Now, tell me more about this demon inside of you. I’m curious to hear how this came about.”

“Why is that important?” Peter asked.

“You cannot simply tell Liza you have a monster inside of you, and then expect her to accept it, and move on. That is not fair to her, or to you.”

“I didn’t say it was a monster. It’s a demon, and I have it under control.”

“What triggers it?”

“The demon comes out whenever Peter blows his top,” Liza interjected. “A dark cloud comes over his face, and his nostrils flare, and he starts to look like a total maniac. The demon also has powers that Peter doesn’t.”

“So you’ve seen this firsthand,” Sierra said.

Liza started to reply, but nodded instead. Not long ago, she’d seen Peter kill a man who’d been intent on murdering her and Snoop. Peter had killed him with a screwdriver with a dull point. It had been like watching a macabre magic trick. One moment the screwdriver was in Peter’s hand, the next it was embedded in their attacker’s heart.

What had bothered her most was the transformation Peter had gone through. One moment he was gentle, fun-loving Peter, the next a snarling Mr. Hyde. The transformation had been painful to watch and, thankfully, had not lasted very long.

“Your anger brings it to the surface?” Sierra asked Peter.

“That’s right,” Peter said.

“How long does the demon stay?”

“A couple of minutes at the most.”

“When it finally leaves, how do you feel?”

“Pretty awful. Especially if I’ve hurt someone. I suffer for weeks.”

“Were you ever tempted to see a psychiatrist?” Sierra asked.

He shook his head. “I was raised not to talk about these things.”

“Raised not to talk about these things by who?”

“My mother and father.”

“Your parents knew about this demon? How did they deal with it?”

Sierra was on the edge of his seat, and had the unmistakable gleam in his eye of someone stumbling upon something of great value. The look bothered Peter. What was the good doctor planning to do with the information? Write about it in a prominent medical journal? Or sell it to Hollywood one day? These things had happened to psychics who’d made the mistake of baring their soul to strangers, and Peter didn’t want it happening to him. “Before I answer your question, I want you to promise me that you’ll never reveal what I’m about to say to you to anyone else.”

“Your secrets are safe,” Sierra assured him. “Nothing you say will leave this office.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Yes, it’s a promise.”

“All right. I inherited this demon from my mother and father. They were trapped by one of the Devil’s sons when they were children, and forced to become his disciples. They grew up, got married, had me, and I got this demon. They raised me in a loving household, and taught me not to lose my temper. I can still hear my mother saying, ‘Don’t get angry-you’ll just tempt the Devil.’ I didn’t realize she was telling me the truth.”

“Your parents were trapped-how?”

“They lived in a small village in the south of England. One day they were playing with their friends, and saw an injured black cat on a frozen lake. When they went to rescue it, the ice broke under their weight. One of the Devil’s sons was waiting on the bottom of the lake for them. He converted them, so to speak, and the children became his disciples.”

“The Devil has children?”

“He has six sons. They’re responsible for most of the horrible things that have happened to mankind in the past two thousand years.”

“What kind of people were your parents?”

“They were wonderful people. Even though they knew they were possessed by an evil spirit, they still choose to be good. It was a struggle, but they won out.”

“How extraordinary. Where are they now?”

“They’re dead. They were murdered when I was a boy.”

“Where? In England?”

“Here in New York. We moved here when I was small, and lived in an apartment in Murray Hill. They were abducted and killed by a gang of evil psychics after seeing a show in Times Square. I was with them.”

Sierra’s head bobbed up and down, drinking in every word. “The night your parents died-how did you react? Did the demon come out then? Did you go berserk?” he asked.

The words hit Peter like an invisible punch. He had cried and cried that night, just like any normal kid would do. What did Sierra think he was? A freak?

“What kind of question is that?” Peter snapped.

“I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right.”

“It sure didn’t.”

“Please don’t get angry,” Sierra said, trying to sooth him. “It was a slip of the tongue.”

“No, it wasn’t. You asked a deliberate question that took deliberate thought. Now here’s my answer. I’m not Linda Blair in The Exorcist. I don’t piss on rugs and spin my head and say crude things to party guests. I can control myself. I do control myself.”

“Of course you do,” Sierra said.

“I don’t like the way you’re looking at me,” Peter said.

“And how is that?”

“Like a lab rat that’s grown two heads.”

“Oh, Peter,” Liza said, knowing what was coming next.

“You are a patient, and I am a doctor. That is how I’m looking at you,” Sierra said.

“You’ve got something else on your mind.”

“I’m sorry, but you’re wrong.”

“I’m never wrong about stuff like that. You’re a snake, and you’re going to betray me.” Peter rose from the couch and glanced down at Liza. “I’m leaving. You’re welcome to stay, if you’d like. I’ll meet you back at the house.”

“No, I’m coming, too,” Liza said.

She rose and clasped Peter’s hand. She could find the good in just about anything, even a disaster like this. To Sierra she said, “Thank you for taking the time to see us. We really appreciate it.”

“But we’re not done,” the doctor said.

“Yes, we are,” Peter replied, and pulled Liza toward the door.

Sierra chased the young couple into the reception area. His receptionist’s desk was empty. “I’m sorry I offended you. I meant no harm.”

Peter gave Sierra the evil eye. The look came straight from the depths of his troubled soul. Liza clutched his hand while staring discreetly at the floor.

“You asked if the demon came out the night my parents died. What exactly did you mean by that?” Peter asked.

Sierra felt Peter’s eyes burning a hole in him. He did not want the young magician reading his mind, and shifted his gaze to the clutter of paperwork on his receptionist’s desk.

“I don’t know. It was a slip of the tongue,” he said.

“You’re lying.”

“Peter!” Liza said.

“He’s lying,” Peter repeated. “One moment, he’s being all nice and friendly, the next he’s asking me if the demon came out the night my parents died. He knows something.”

Sierra cursed under his breath. He had handled this all wrong. He should have told Peter the truth the moment Peter had told him that his parents had moved from London to New York when he was a boy. Had he told him the truth, none of this would be happening now.

He tried to repair the damage as best he could. “You are a troubled young man. I can help you and your girlfriend, if you’ll let me. Please give me another chance.”

“Up yours,” Peter said.

“Peter-that’s so rude!” Liza scolded.

“I don’t trust him,” he said, not caring anymore. “He’s got something else on his mind-you can see it in his face. The moment I told him my parents were murdered, his whole demeanor changed. I don’t know what this clown is up to, and I’m not about to find out.”