James Swain - Shadow People

“What do you think you’re doing?” the owner asked him.

“My friend needs help. Please stand here, and keep the police out.”

“What is wrong with your friend?” the owner asked. “Is he on drugs?”

“That’s none of your business.”

With that, Peter went back into the restaurant and locked the door behind him. He didn’t want an audience to witness Snoop coming around, and hearing what he had to say. As a psychic he was sworn to keep secrets and not talk about his dealings with the other side. It was a hard promise to keep, but he did his best. He grabbed Snoop by the shoulders and attempted to shake him awake. His eyelids fluttered.

“He’s shooting at me!” Snoop said desperately.

“Wake up! Wake up!” Peter implored him.

“Oww! Something hit my leg. Oh, my God, it’s bleeding. He winged me!”

“Snoop, you’ve got to open your eyes!”

“I can’t. This is so crazy. Get me out of here, will you!”

Peter stopped shaking his assistant. Something was keeping Snoop from returning. He let his eyes canvass the room. In the back of the restaurant was a darkened space with several booths. His eyes locked on the shadow person hovering over a table. The last times hadn’t worked, so the shadow person had decided to hang around, and make sure it did this time.

Peter did not remember moving across the restaurant toward the booths. Nor did he remember raising his arm. Just the sound of his fist striking the shadow person in the space that should have been its head. The evil spirit emitted a groan, and shrank into itself. Two more blows produced similar effects. He was hurting it, and making it smaller. The third blow did the trick, and the shadow person became the size of a beach ball before disappearing, the sound coming out of its mouth a pitiful cry.

He hurried back to Snoop. His assistant had woken up, and was examining his leg where he’d been shot by Dr. Death. He was in a daze, having a hard time grasping that his trip hadn’t been real. Peter helped him out of his chair.

“You’re my hero,” Snoop said.

“Let’s get out of here before the police come. This is one trip you can’t talk to anyone about.”

“What’s this thing around my neck, anyway? It’s not my color.”

“Leave it on. It will protect you from being kidnapped again.”

He pushed Snoop into the kitchen and looked for an exit. Snoop pilfered a vegetarian egg roll out of a pan sitting on the stove, and started to eat it. “Is that what happened to me? I was kidnapped by that weird black thing?”

“It’s called a shadow person, and it’s an evil spirit. It kidnapped your soul, and took you to the home of a serial killer. Don’t ask me why, because I haven’t figured out that part yet.”

“Could I have died?”

“It was a distinct possibility. I need to pick your brain. We have to catch this guy.”

Snoop chewed contemplatively. “I’m game.”

Opening Ceremony was the most daring clothing boutique in the city, and a few short blocks away. Snoop suggested they get a window seat at the Starbucks across the street from it. Girl watching was his passion.

They both got the house roast and a toasted sesame bagel. A window table opened up and they grabbed it. Peter sipped his drink, realizing how lucky it was Snoop was still alive. Either he was going to have to give every person he knew a five-pointed star, or he’d have to come up with another way to deal with this problem. Snoop leaned forward on his elbows and spoke in a whisper. “I heard you beating that thing in the restaurant. Did you kill it?”

Peter shook his head and sipped his drink.

“If you don’t mind my asking, how did you do that?”

Another moment of truth. There should have been a law that a person didn’t have to deal with more than one of those a day. Should he tell Snoop who he was, or continue to lie to his best friend? He decided to tell the truth.

“It’s called dark magic,” Peter explained, his voice barely audible. “It’s a special gift that I was born with. I can read minds, see into the future, and when I set my mind to it, move objects around by telekinesis. I also conduct séances with some of my psychic friends.”

“Do you talk to dead people?”

“Sometimes.”

“Are there really such things as ghosts?”

“Yes, and they’re everywhere.”

Snoop chewed on his bagel. He did not seem terribly surprised by Peter’s admission. Perhaps he’d known all along that Peter was psychic, and because they were tight, had never let on. A better friend he’d never had.

“What about the magic tricks? Are they your cover?” Snoop asked.

“I guess you could call them that,” Peter said. “If I slip up, I tell people it’s a trick, and no one’s the wiser. I’ve been doing it all my life, and never been caught.”

“Which makes you a very interesting guy. Does Liza know?”

“I told her a few weeks ago. The shock is starting to settle in.”

“That bad?”

“We went to see a shrink this morning. It didn’t go well.”

Snoop put down his half-eaten bagel. A knowing look spread across his face.

“Was the shrink’s name Dr. Sierra?” his assistant asked.

Peter’s coffee cup hit the table hard. “How did you know that?”

“Oh, wow, I fooled you. That’s a first. Let’s write this down and get it notarized.”

“Come on, tell me.”

Snoop took out his Droid. He carried the same model that Peter did, and was resisting turning it in for an upgrade, just as Peter was. They were alike in many ways, and often joked that they were twins separated at birth. Snoop punched an app, and a live shot of a surveillance camera outside Peter’s theater appeared on the tiny screen. He hit another button, and a live shot from the camera in the alley came on. Pushing more buttons, he revealed shots from the surveillance cameras inside the theater that ran 24/7.

“I didn’t know that was possible with a Droid,” Peter said.

“They don’t call me Snoop for nothing. The system also has a memory. Take a look at this video that was shot earlier.”

Snoop pushed another button. On the screen appeared a video showing a man standing outside the theater, banging on the front door. It was Dr. Sierra, wearing a hat and coat. With him was a second man, quite sickly in appearance, who carried a wooden cane. The second man wore a solemn expression on his face.

“I like to check on the theater and make sure everything’s okay,” Snoop explained. “I caught Dr. Sierra and his friend banging on the door this afternoon. He was there for a while. Then he went across the street to get a sandwich with his friend. Something told me I should call this guy, and find out what he wanted. So I called the restaurant, and asked to speak with him.”

“He must have been surprised,” Peter said, enjoying his assistant’s ingenuity.

“He was. He said he urgently needed to speak with you. I thought he was a kook, and asked him who his friend was. That’s when he clammed up.”

“He wouldn’t tell you who the other person was?”

“No, and I asked him a few times. It bothered me that he wouldn’t give me the other guy’s name or anything.”

Was this Hunsinger, the colleague Dr. Sierra had mentioned to Liza? If so, why had Sierra dragged him out on a Monday afternoon and brought him to Peter’s theater? Sierra had betrayed him in so many ways that it made Peter angry thinking about it.

At the next table, a college-aged girl enjoying a latte let out a yelp. Her cup was boiling over, the brown liquid singeing her manicured fingers. She looked bewildered, which was how most people reacted when confronted by the paranormal. Peter forced himself to calm down, and the drink went back to its normal state.