Geoff Cooper: Shades

“Thank you again. Be safe on the road, Chief.”

“Will do. Take care.”

Bedrik smiled. “See you soon, Chief. See you very soon.”

After Chief Winters left, Bedrik sat down on the couch and stared at the wall. His amusement turned to anger. Of course he’d known of Martin’s death. After all, he’d been responsible.

In order for Bedrik’s plan to see fruition, he’d had to anchor his shadow to someone else—a homunculus. But Bedrik had neither the time nor the inclination to build one, to harvest it from his own semen and blood and hair and shape it in the moonlight—not when his twin brother would suffice. Bedrik didn’t need to waste his power manufacturing a double. His parents had already manufactured a perfect double for him.

It was easy. He’d simply released Martin from his bonds. One moment, his brother was sleeping in his cell. The next, he was standing alongside the Hudson, staring at Michael in shock, wondering how he’d gotten there and why. Michael answered his brother with a knife. He’d carved sigils that would never be found by the police, because rather than being hewn into Martin’s flesh, they’d been carved onto his soul. Then, Bedrik attached his shadow to his brother’s corpse. A simple circle of concealment had finished the job, hiding Martin in plain sight, insuring that his brother’s corpse wouldn’t be found by prying eyes—allowing time for nature to dispose of the evidence. But somehow, that circle had been broken. Martin’s body had been found.

Bedrik clenched his fists. It should have been flawless. The process had taken only a modicum of power.

Power…

It wasn’t an easy thing, the acquisition of power. You could only go so far with your natural talents. After that, if you wanted more, you had to sacrifice and study and wait. Or, if you were Bedrik, you opted for the easier route. Take the power from someone else.

A perfect example was the girl waiting down in the basement.

Sighing, Bedrik stretched and shook his head to clear his exhaustion. It had been a long day and a longer night. There were other forces at work in Brackard’s Point. He was sure of it. The discovery of Martin’s body proved it. Gustav? Perhaps, but this felt like something more. He couldn’t determine what. Still, despite this unforseen occurrence, he’d made some progress. He’d worry about the rest later. No sense wasting power on it now. Wouldn’t do for him to be impatient.

He returned to the basement. Dana Wheeler lay naked and spread-eagled across the workbench.

“Hello, Dana. I apologize for the interruption. Where were we?”

Her bloodshot eyes bulged. Her screams were muffled by the strips of duct tape around her mouth. Snot bubbled from her nose.

“None of that,” Bedrik stroked her hair. “You have to understand. There are only two ways for me to achieve my goal here. The first would take many years of meditation and offerings, and would hurt me a great deal. The other way—the way I choose—is much quicker and less costly; at least to myself. I only had to give up my shadow, and that didn’t hurt at all. You, on the other hand…Well, let’s just say this will hurt you much more than it will hurt me.”

The knife he took to Dana’s flesh was very sharp.

Bedrik whistled while he worked.

When he was finished, he returned to Gethsemane Cemetery, where the shadows rustled with anticipation. He called out to them and the shades answered.

789

Danny stifled a yawn. He’d read through Gustav’s books. Not all of them, but enough to understand more than he’d ever thought possible. Gustav explained that some people had the potential for science and others for magic. They weren’t that far apart, really, but at the same time, they were almost opposites. Math had set rules it followed, and they never changed. Magic had rules, too, but they were different for each person. Sometimes they changed a lot. Some rules applied to everyone, and others seemed to be made up as you went along.

“Magic is a part of you,” Gustav explained. “You were born that way. You have aptitude, yes? But it is also outside of you. You make magic things happen.”

“Is there anything I can’t do?”

“Much. But then again, if you had the time…” Gustav shrugged. He seemed sad.

“What do you mean, ‘If I had the time’?”

Gustav shook his head. “Is not important. You are young, yes? Will have plenty of time to study and learn. You will do much. All it takes is knowledge and power. That is magic—knowledge and power. Knowledge is up to you. Power you can borrow from others.”

“Can I fly?”

“Only one way to know, no?”

“Can you fly?”

“Sometimes.”

“Get the hell out of here. You’re telling me you can fly?”

“Yes, but not so good. Not for a long time.”

“I wish I could fly.”

“Enough of wishes. Wish in one hand. Shit in other. Read.”

Danny did his best, but there was so much to take in. There was talk of different levels of reality, of how to travel to them, of other worlds and gods and demons—and things that were neither. Half of what he read seemed like a history lesson, only a lot more interesting than the shit they taught in school. From time to time, he asked Gustav questions. Before the night was done, Danny learned his first spell—how to stop wounds from bleeding. Shortly after midnight, Gustav took the book from him.

“Enough. Go. Come again tomorrow.”

“What? But I’m just getting to the good stuff.”

“No. No more tonight, Danny. You learn fast. Took me many weeks to learn my first spell but you got it in one day. Go home to your mother now.”

Danny stood up. His legs tingled as blood flowed into them again. He’d been sitting for so long, completely lost in the book, and his muscles were stiff. He had to piss, and was hungry and thirsty. But when he saw what time it was, he forgot about all that. He was late. His Mom would be pissed—if she was awake. He bid his new mentor goodbye and headed for home.

The streets were empty, except for the occasional passing car. Danny jogged until his sides ached. Then he stopped. He leaned against an abandoned building, a Greek restaurant that had closed down three years earlier. The boards over the windows were covered with graffiti. Trash littered the sidewalk. Something fluttered above him in the darkness, hidden beyond the reach of the sodium lights; a bird, maybe, or a bat.

Unable to hold it any longer, Danny pulled down his zipper. He shivered with relief. While facing the wall, he heard another noise. It was a faint sound, a distant whisper carried through a long tunnel, only there wasn’t a tunnel around. He quickly pulled his zipper up. Then he turned around. The sound continued, but there was nothing to see. Still, there was something out there. He was sure of it. The hairs on the back of his neck rose.

Maybe it’s looking for me—whatever it is .

The sound was closer now; shifting, never seeming to be in one place. Danny closed his eyes and tried to think of any of the lessons he’d learned through the night, but nothing seemed coherent.

I spun a fucking string propeller on my fingertip and learned how to stop bleeding! How’s that gonna help me now?

The sound changed, snuffling like a dog on the trail of something to eat. Not just any dog, but one like Dusty, the big as sin brute that guarded Silecki’s Recycling. Danny knew Dusty from the last time he and his friends had tried sneaking over the fence to collect a few pounds of aluminum to sell back to the cheap bastard. Ronnie had gotten his ass bitten and half the left leg of his jeans torn off before Jeremy nailed the mutt with a rock and made it let go.