James Swain - Shadow People

Peter raised a fist. One more blow was all it would take to end Munns’s miserable life.

“I said stop,” she said.

“I’m not done with him.”

“He’s taken enough punishment. Please don’t hurt him any more.”

“I was planning on killing him,” he heard himself say.

She let out a gasp. “No-don’t do that.”

“You want him to live? Come on. He was going to kill you.”

“That’s not what I said. I’d love nothing more than if that horrible man was dead. But that still doesn’t give you the right to beat him to death. No one has that right.”

There was no rage in her voice or sense of outrage over what Munns had done to her.

“You’re not angry at him?” he asked.

“Of course I am. But my anger doesn’t justify taking another life. Would you mind untying me? The ropes are cutting off the circulation in my arms.”

Peter was impressed that she could be thinking so clearly. As he started to untie her, Garrison rushed in through the front door, gun clasped in both hands. He zeroed in on Munns. He was still lying on the couch and had shut his eyes. Garrison aimed at his chest.

“Get up,” he said.

No response. Garrison pulled back an eyelid. Satisfied that Munns was no longer a threat, he holstered his weapon and crossed the room to where Rachael sat. “I’m Special Agent Garrison with the FBI. How are you feeling?”

“Hello, Mr. Garrison,” Rachael said politely. “All things considered, I’m doing fairly well, thanks to our friend here.”

“Peter does good work, doesn’t he?”

“I would say so.”

“There’s an ambulance coming to tend to a pair of wounded police officers outside,” Garrison said. “I’ll have them take you to the hospital as well.”

“Do you think that’s necessary?” she asked.

“It’s always smart. You know, as a precaution.”

Her arms free, Rachael touched her rescuer. “This is going to sound funny, but I had a dream about you the other night. Isn’t that amazing?”

So the spirits had talked to Rachael as well. Peter undid the last of the knots and offered her his hand. She stood up too quickly, and fell back into the chair. He pulled her upright.

“Be careful,” he said.

She thanked him with a smile. “I’ve never had a guardian angel before.”

“Is that what I am?”

“I think so.”

“I’ll feel better when you’re safely out of this house.”

Peter spied movement on the other side of the living room. Munns had woken up, and was going through a terrifying transformation, his body tearing out of its clothes. His fingers grew into talons, and lizardlike scales appeared on the back of his hands. He didn’t look human anymore. Grabbing Rachael, Peter pushed her out the front door.

Garrison went next, loudly complaining.

Peter slammed the door in the FBI agent’s face, locking it.

“Stay outside, and don’t look through the windows,” he warned.

“What’s going on?” Garrison said through the door.

“I’ll tell you later.”

He returned to the living room. The transformation was complete. The bearded faux college professor was nothing but a memory; in his place, a monster served straight up from the depths of hell. In his hand was a Swiss Army knife, which turned into a gleaming sword.

Now I know what a gargoyle on steroids looks like, Peter thought.

The water in the vase on Holly’s coffee table had turned a dreamy whitish color. Like a storm cloud, the water twirled and danced. Holly recited the magical words that would let her once again spy on her beloved Peter. The water cleared, and she leaned forward, filled with anticipation.

She gasped. Peter was inside a strange house, fighting to the death with a hideous giant reptile. The reptile looked half human, half alligator, with a head shaped like a monkey’s, and talons instead of fingertips. Incredibly strong, it was tossing poor Peter around like a rag doll.

To his credit, Peter was fighting back. He’d never been much of a scrapper, not that Holly had ever seen. But now he was using his fists with real skill, and landing solid blows against his opponent’s skull. It thrilled her to see him in this mode.

Only there was a problem. Peter’s blows were having little to no effect, and seemed to be making the giant reptile even more enraged. Throwing Peter to the floor, the thing began to stomp on Peter’s chest.

Holly shrieked.

Witches weren’t supposed to do that. Nor were they supposed to cry, or fall madly and hopelessly in love. But Holly had fallen in love, and now her emotions were on full display.

A loud banging on her front door caught her by surprise.

“Yes? Who is it?”

Her next-door neighbor, asking her if she was all right.

“I’m fine, Mrs. Burt,” Holly said.

Mrs. Burt asked if she should call the police.

Holly jumped off the couch. The last thing she wanted was the police in her apartment and seeing her wall of potions and herbs. There was no law against being a witch, but it could still lead to unpleasantness with the landlord and even eviction if she was not careful. In the vase, Peter was back on his feet, whacking the thing with a poker he’d pulled from the fireplace.

“Come on, Peter, smash its head in,” she urged.

“Is someone in there with you?” Mrs. Burt asked through the door.

Holly threw the dead bolt, and cracked the door. Mrs. Burt stood in the hallway wearing a pink bathrobe and curlers, cell phone at the ready.

“Is someone hurting you?” her neighbor asked.

“No, Mrs. Burt, no one’s hurting me. In fact, I’m by myself.”

Mrs. Burt stuck one eye to the door. “Why, isn’t that amazing! You have a movie playing inside a bowl of water! How on earth is that possible?”

Closing the door in her neighbor’s face was not the proper response, and Holly had to think fast. “It’s the latest technology, Mrs. Burt. I bought it online.”

“The figures inside the water are so lifelike! When I was growing up, the big thing was owning a color TV. Times have certainly changed. What do they call it?”

“Water movies.”

“What will they think of next?”

“Good night, Mrs. Burt. Thanks for checking up on me.”

“I’m here if you need me.”

Her neighbor shuffled off to her apartment. Holly shut the door, threw the dead bolt, and returned to the couch. Peter and the thing were still doing battle. They had destroyed the room they were in, the furniture in splinters on the floor. Peter’s face was a bloody mess and he was favoring his left arm. The thing had definitely hurt him. Holly had naturally assumed that Peter would win simply because Peter managed to somehow always come out on top.

But what if she was wrong? What if Peter had met his match, and was about to lose? The very thought threw her into a tailspin. Her aunt had warned her against interfering in Peter’s affairs, and Holly put the warning right out of her mind.

Water shiny and oh so bright, do my bidding this darkest night,

Give the strength to the boy I love, so that he may vanquish…

Her cell phone slithered across the coffee table. Caller ID said Milly. She decided not to answer it, and continued.

… this thing that would end his life.

Let him fight with the strength of…

Her cell phone flipped off the table into her lap. It had enough force behind it to tell Holly that if she didn’t answer it right now, there would be hell to pay down the road. Flipping it open, she politely said, “Well, hello, Aunt Milly, how are you?”

“Leave Peter alone,” her aunt replied sternly.

“I will do no such thing. Peter needs our help.”