James Swain - Shadow People

“Over the past thirty days, the shadow person has been filmed on four different occasions running across Grand Central’s main concourse. I’ll show you the first video we found. Look at screen number three.”

His eyes found screen three on the wall of monitors. A surveillance video began to play. On it, a shadow person ran through the main concourse. It looked like a puff of smoke, and hovered inches above the floor. It moved quickly before disappearing through a street exit. Several people in the concourse saw it pass, shook their heads, and went back to whatever they had been doing, which was how people usually reacted when confronted by a ghost.

The video was short, barely five seconds long. Peter stared at the screen long after it had stopped playing. The shadow person had appeared to be in a hurry. Why?

He shook his head in frustration. He had no earthly idea what any of this meant. The time stamp on the corner of the video caught his eye. It had been shot on Friday night at 11:50.

He shuddered.

The shadow person had been hurrying to reach the Friday night séance at Milly’s apartment on the other side of town, where it had appeared ten minutes later.

“What’s outside the exit I just saw?” he asked.

“A taxi stand,” Garrison replied.

That made sense. The shadow person had taken a taxi. Not in the traditional sense. It had simply hung on the roof and bummed a ride. Ghosts did it all the time.

“May I see the other videos?” Peter said.

Garrison worked his magic on the keyboard. Three videos appeared in rapid succession, shot on the floor of the main concourse. In each, a shadow person could be seen fleeing past. Peter read the time stamps on each video.

The first had been recorded at 1 A.M. on Saturday morning, right around the time the shadow person had invaded his brownstone. The second was from Saturday afternoon, right before the shadow person had disrupted his matinee. The third was from this morning. In each video, the shadow person ran past a newspaper kiosk in the concourse. With the kiosk as a point of reference, the differences were clear.

“There’s more than one of them,” he said.

“What? Are you sure?”

“I compared the images on the videos. They’re different sizes. They’re traveling into the city on the Westchester railroad. Once they arrive at Grand Central, they run across the concourse to get outside, and go searching for me.”

“I thought these things could slip through walls,” Garrison said.

“They can slip into cracks in walls in the same way ghosts can. But they can’t pass through solid walls. No spirit can. That forces them to make a mad dash in order to reach the street. From there, they’re hitching cab rides to their final destinations.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Happens all the time. I need to go.”

“But you just got here.”

Peter had encountered all of the shadow people who’d traveled to New York, except the last one, which had arrived this morning. Was another of his friends about to be kidnapped, like poor Liza? He couldn’t let that happen, and he brushed past Garrison on his way to the door.

“Something urgent’s come up,” he said. “I’ll call you when I’m done.”

Grand Central was like a small city, and had over a hundred shops and restaurants, and contained everything a visitor could desire. Peter hurried to a jewelry store called Forever Silver inside the Lexington Avenue Passageway that sold hand-crafted necklaces and bracelets.

Peter was in luck. There was a jewelry maker on duty. He was babysitting his young son, a dark-haired boy sitting on the counter, watching the world go by. Peter offered to do tricks for the boy if the jewelry maker would fill his order right away.

“Good luck. He’s got a short attention span,” the jewelry maker said.

“What’s his name?” Peter asked.

“Anthony.”

Peter did his best to entertain Anthony while his father went to work. Peter waved his hands magically in front of Anthony’s face, and pulled a shiny half-dollar out of the boy’s ear, which he split into two. The coins jumped from hand to hand not once but several times. For a finale, he rubbed them together, and they turned into a silver dollar.

Anthony giggled and clapped his hands enthusiastically.

“Want to see some more?” Peter asked.

It was the magician’s first rule. Wait for them to ask for more.

“Yes,” the boy said.

“Anthony,” his father said.

“Please,” the boy added.

Peter continued the show. He removed a piece of string from his pocket, and began to tear it into tiny pieces. Anthony’s eyes did not leave his hands.

“How many necklaces did you say you wanted?” the jewelry maker asked.

“Five,” Peter said. “Each needs to have a five-pointed star hanging from it. Make sure the star has five points.”

“I’ve got some really beautiful diamond pendants on sale,” the jewelry maker said. “They’re our best sellers. The women love them.”

Peter rolled the pieces of string into a ball, and had Anthony blow on them.

“Just a five-pointed star.”

“Do you mind my asking what they’re for? I’m not being nosy. Just curious.”

Peter grabbed the ends of the string and pulled it apart. It had magically restored itself, and Anthony squealed with delight. The jeweler probably dealt with a hundred customers a day. Five-pointed stars weren’t an item that people requested. Peter could have told him that Grand Central was being visited by evil spirits that were trying to kill him and hurt his friends, and that the stars were needed to ward them off, only that would have ruined the man’s day, and he didn’t want to do that.

“It’s a long story,” the young magician said. “How much longer will you be?”

“Ten minutes, tops.”

Peter went back to entertaining Anthony. The boy looked no more than seven, the same age he’d been when he’d lost his parents. He’d often wondered how his life would have turned out had his parents not been taken away from him at such a tender age. Would he still have become a magician, or would his life have taken another path, and sent him on a different journey then the one he was on now? And would he have met Liza and fallen in love, or would another woman have claimed his heart? There was no way to know; even his psychic powers would not let him look back into past and see what might have been.

The trick ended, and Anthony clapped his hands and giggled with laughter. Ever since Peter could remember, he’d wanted to have a family of his own, and a child he could pass down his magic to. Knowing what he did now about himself, he wondered if he’d dare even try.

“All done. Cash or credit card?” the jewelry maker asked.

Peter paid the jeweler cash and took the gift bag off the counter.

“Sure I can’t interest you in those diamond pendants?”

“Maybe some other time,” Peter said.

Leaving Grand Central, Peter hailed a cab from the taxi stand on Lexington Avenue. He needed to hunt down Milly, Holly, Max, Lester, and Snoop, and present them with the five-pointed-star necklaces. It was the only way he could ensure that the newly arrived shadow person would not harm his friends.

He gave the driver an address in the Village, and the vehicle headed downtown. Of all his friends, he considered his teacher to be the most at risk. Max had lost his wife a year ago, and now spent his days traveling between restaurants and taverns in the city, doing magic to keep himself busy. He often acted like he was walking around in a fog, and would be an easy target.

Peter decided to call Max, and tell him of his impending arrival. As he pulled out his Droid, the phone vibrated as if alive. Caller ID said it was Garrison.