James Swain - Shadow People

“Jesus H. Christ. What in God’s name are you?” Jucko whispered.

The bolt cutters hit the floor. Jucko looked like he might cry. The presence of the Devil did that to some people. Munns backed Jucko into the corner, put his hands around Jucko’s throat, and lifted him clean off the floor. Then he carried him outside into the parking lot.

Jucko begged for mercy, and Munns squeezed the words as they came out of his throat. Munns had been tortured as a child, and every person in town knew it, including Clyde Jucko. Mercy was the last thing on his mind.

Munns drew the Swiss Army knife from his pocket, and flicked open the blade. Before his eyes, it grew into a gleaming sword. He released his grasp on Jucko, and let him stand on his own. In one swift motion, he cut off the old man’s head. One quick slice was all it took, and the disembodied corpse hit the pavement with a sickening thud.

Jucko’s head rolled for several yards before coming to a stop. The old man’s eyes were blinking wildly, like he didn’t know he was dead yet. A screech of brakes shattered the stillness. Ray’s black van pulled into the parking lot, and the tattoo artist jumped out. Ray started to approach, saw Munns, and started backing up, as if he didn’t know who Munns was.

“Doc, is that you?” he asked.

“Who do you think it is?” Munns barked.

Ray opened his mouth, but no words came out. He looked terrified. In all their time together, Ray had never shown fear. It was not a quality he seemed to possess, until now.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Munns demanded.

“You don’t know?” Ray asked.

“No. Tell me what’s going on.”

Ray went to the van and bent the side mirror so Munns could see his own reflection. The image staring back did not look real. Munns’s clothes were shreds, and he’d been transformed into a hulking demon with horns coming out of his skull, rapierlike fangs, and a ridge of spikes running the length of his spine. The most recent tattoo Ray had inked on his skin had come to life, and now stood ready to do battle with whichever enemies stood in his way.

A coarse laugh escaped Munns’s lips. Surtr had risen.

Peter got out of the cab in front of Holly’s apartment wondering what a gargoyle on steroids looked like. Not the kind of date to spend Friday night with, that was for sure. At least he’d have Garrison backing him up when he confronted the thing.

He entered the lobby, and searched for Holly’s name on the intercom. He had always envied Holly for making it into Columbia. It was New York’s best school, and one of the finest in the country. His own college experience had consisted of a single semester at CCNY, where he’d majored in not falling asleep in class before being thrown out.

He sometimes wondered what his life would have been like if he’d stayed in school, and gotten a degree. Perhaps he would have become a doctor or a lawyer. He would have made a hell of an attorney, especially during a cross-examination. No one was going to keep any secrets from him! But that was just an idle daydream. He’d wanted to be a magician for as long he could remember. It was his calling, as strange as that sounded.

Right as he found Holly’s listing, he got a call from Liza. How strange that she’d call just as he entered Holly’s building.

“When are you coming home?” she asked.

“Soon. I’ve been running some errands,” he replied.

“You could have called, you know.”

“I thought you wanted to have a quiet afternoon by yourself.”

“You leave in the company of an FBI agent. Then I don’t hear from you for three whole hours. You could be a little more considerate.”

“Sorry.”

“How did it go with Garrison?”

“It was a strange morning. It appears there’s more than one shadow person in the city. The FBI has tapes of them inside Grand Central Terminal. It’s like an invasion.”

“Eeek! What do the shadow people want?”

“Me.”

“Don’t say that. You’re scaring me.”

“All right. They want you.”

“You’re not funny. So, where are you now? Can you talk for a minute?”

It did not seem the right time to be telling his girlfriend that he was about to enter another woman’s apartment to give her a piece of jewelry. He stepped out of the lobby onto the sidewalk, and cupped his hand over his ear to block out the street noise. “I can talk.”

“I called Dr. Sierra,” Liza said. “He’s very disturbed by what you told him this morning. He’s afraid you could hurt yourself when you go into one of your states. He wants to help you.”

“Hurt myself how?”

“By doing something awful, and then later being held accountable for it.”

“Like nearly burning down the restaurant this morning.”

“Exactly.”

“Did you tell him what happened?”

“No. I was going to let you do that.”

Peter swallowed the lump in his throat. The moment of truth had finally arrived. “You think I should tell him what happened at the restaurant?” he asked.

“Yes, I do. Dr. Sierra said he could fit us in tomorrow morning.”

“That soon, huh?”

“He wants us to meet a colleague of his named Hunsinger. Dr. Sierra said that Hunsinger has dealt with people who have problems just like yours. Dr. Sierra put in a call to Hunsinger, and he’s agreed to meet with us.”

“He spoke with Hunsinger before you called?”

“Yes. Why?”

Something inside of him snapped. It must have shown in his face, for a man walking toward him on the sidewalk stepped into the gutter and immediately crossed the street.

“Dr. Sierra promised not to talk to anyone about us. Remember?”

“You’re losing your temper. Calm down,” Liza said.

The demon lurking inside of him never truly went to sleep. It was always simmering just below the surface, ready to attack like a vicious watchdog. “He betrayed me.”

“Dr. Sierra consulted Hunsinger for advice,” she said. “He’s trying to help, and you’re putting handcuffs on him.”

“He deserves a lot worse than handcuffs.”

“That’s not funny. Stop talking like that.”

Betrayals were the Devil’s playthings. They started wars, ruined marriages, and brought out the worst in mankind. A betrayal had taken his parents’ lives, and forever altered his own. He would make Sierra pay for this indiscretion, even with Liza in the room. Looking up into the sky, he let the warm sunlight bathe his face, and felt his anger recede, if only a little.

“I’ll do whatever you want,” he said.

“Will you go see him tomorrow?”

“Yes. I’ll go see him.”

“Thank you for doing this. Are you mad?”

“Not at all.”

“You sound mad. Please don’t be. It’s for the best.”

He loved Liza more than anything in the world. Yet there were times when she made him so angry, he wanted to scream. Saying good-bye, he ended the call.

Holly was in her apartment. She sounded happy to hear his voice, and buzzed him in.

He took a creaky elevator to the ninth floor. Once upon a time, he’d loved Mondays. It was the day he used to escape his problems. Now it seemed like all he was doing was confronting them. The elevator rumbled to a stop. He got out, and walked down a narrow hallway to a door painted a muted black.

Holly lived by herself. Most psychics did. He was one of the lucky ones, although he wasn’t sure how long that was going to last. He and Liza seemed to be growing further apart with every conversation. It was like slipping down a cliff.

He tapped lightly. No answer. He tapped a little harder. To his surprise, the door opened by itself. People didn’t leave their doors unlocked in New York, not even in the best apartment buildings. He stuck his head in. “Holly?”