The Shadow Box: Paranormal Suspense and Dark Fantasy Thriller Novels

by Travis Luedke

  “You think you know me,” Mom said, pointing at Jessie. “I have traveled whole worlds you will never see.”

  “You’re right,” Jessie said, crying. “I don’t know you. I never did.”

  Craig rested a hand on Jessie’s shoulder. “She’s not really talking about you. You know that, right?”

  “It sounds like she is.” She inched closer to Mom and reached out to touch her leg.

  Her mom swatted Jessie’s hand away. “Don’t touch me, Princess Death.”

  “I’m your daughter.”

  “You are the harbinger of the end of times.”

  Jessie wiped the tears out of her eyes, shook her head. “I. Am. Your. Daughter.”

  “Dark one.”

  “And I love you.”

  Her mom hissed and recoiled. “Lies from its tongue.”

  “I used to tell you that all the time when I was little. But I haven’t in a long time. I love you, Mom. Even all those times I said I hated you, I loved you. Did you know that?”

  “The earth will know the end of mortals. This plane will open to the next and flood its rival.”

  She turned to Craig. “What is she talking about?”

  “Nothing. It’s nonsense. We need to get her someplace safe, Jessie.”

  Jessie tore through her mind to find some solution. There had to be a way to bring Mom back. Again she thought about magic. She had believed there was good magic. She knew better now. But there was still magic. That part was real.

  She looked at the knife Craig had tossed aside after beheading the wolf. (You mean your step-father.) She ran over, picked up the knife, and sliced her left palm. The pain shot all the way up her arm to her elbow and back again.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Craig asked.

  She looked him in the eye. Said nothing.

  Lockman shook his head. “It won’t work.”

  She held up her hand. “Blood.”

  “It will take more than a little cut.”

  “It didn’t take anything close to that for what happened with Tanner’s gun.”

  “That was a coincidence, not magic. You should know enough to recognize the difference by now.”

  “I have to try.” She rushed at her mother before either of them could object. She pressed her bloody hand against her mom’s forehead. “Come back to me, Mom. Please.”

  Her mom thrashed away from her. She pointed at Jessie. “Princess Death tempts fate. This is how it starts.”

  “Mom,” Jessie said, holding out her cut hand. “Come back.” Blood pooled in her palm and dripped onto the floor.

  “This is how it starts,” her mother screamed.

  Jessie stepped forward and flicked her hand, spattering her mother with her blood. “Come back, God damn it. Your daughter needs you. Come back.”

  Her mom screamed and dug a hand at her chest. She pulled something out from under her blouse. A pendant of some kind on a chain. The pendant glowed a blue-white that grew brighter and brighter.

  Jessie had to squint and shade her eyes. She noticed her blood glowing the same color and eventually reaching the same intensity.

  “She kept it,” Craig said.

  Jessie turned to him. “What?”

  “The pendant.”

  The light grew too bright for Jessie to keep her eyes open. She had to turn away. She could feel heat behind her as if her mother burned on a pyre. She smelled something sweet in the air, like candied raspberries.

  Then it all stopped—the light, the heat, the smell—gone as suddenly as it had begun.

  Jessie opened her eyes and looked at her mother. All the blood was gone. As was the wild look in her mother’s eyes.

  Mom reached out a quaking hand. “Jess?”

  “Mom?” She ran to her side and hugged her. The feel of Mom’s arms hugging back sent a thrill through Jessie. “Oh my God, Mom, I’m so sorry.”

  “Sorry? For what?”

  “For everything,” she said and cried into her mom’s shoulder, this time knowing it was really her.

  Craig crouched down on Mom’s other side. He stared at the two of them, wide-eyed, as if they had dropped from the sky. “I don’t fucking believe it.”

  Mom looked up at the sound of his voice. “Craig?” Her gaze traced the front of him, following the smears of blood on his clothes.

  Jessie felt her start to tremble. She hugged her mother more tightly and whispered inane comforts. Lies, basically. “It’s okay. It’s all right. You’re fine now.” But none of them were fine, might never be. Not after all they had witnessed.

  “Where’s Alec?” her mom asked and gently pushed Jessie away so she could look around the room. Her gaze found the wolf’s head and she gagged.

  “We can’t stay here much longer,” Craig said. “We don’t know what Dolan has crawling around this place.”

  Mom’s face turned white. “What is going on? What have you brought us into?”

  “A nightmare,” Craig said. “And I’m sorry. All I want now is to get you out of it.”

  Mom looked back and forth between the two of them. “I’m not leaving without Alec.”

  “Mom…” Jessie started with no clue how to continue. How did you explain the unexplainable?

  “He’s dead,” Craig said. “He died saving your life.”

  Jessie watched for Mom’s reaction, trying to anticipate how to help her get through the next few moments. She expected a melt-down, even with Craig’s white lie. Turned out her Mom wore a tougher shell than Jessie realized.

  “You’re a terrible liar,” she said, looking into Craig’s eyes. “I could always tell when you were lying.”

  “Not always.”

  “You mean all this?” She waved a hand as if all their nightmarish experiences of the last few days hung like paintings on the walls. “I knew there was more to you than what you told me. Even back then.”

  “Then you know that I hated having to lie to you. And you must know I hated having to leave you.”

  Mom’s face went flat and unreadable. “Alec,” she said. “He was on their side?”

  “Do you remember anything after the ghost possessed you?” Jessie asked. After the question left her mouth she made a face at how ridiculous it sounded, no matter how real.

  “Pieces,” she said, looking back at Jessie. “I was here. But I felt crowded out of my own mind. I can’t even explain it. Like I was half-asleep while someone else took over.” She glanced at the wolf’s head again. “More and more is coming back to me. Like the morning after a bad night of drinking.”

  “You don’t drink, mom.”

  Mom smiled. “Not so much anymore.” She pointed at the head without looking at it. “That’s Alec?”

  “A werewolf,” Craig said. “Or that’s what we call them anyway.”

  “How is any of this real?”

  “I wish we had more time to talk it over, but we need to get safe. And this place is not safe.”

  Mom nodded, held up her arms. “Help me up.”

  Jessie and Craig each took an arm and lifted Mom to her feet. Then Mom turned to Craig and rested a hand on his shoulder. Jessie had seen her mother’s intimate touch on Alec, but she saw something different here. The curve of Mom’s spine, the splay of her fingers on his bicep, the tilt of her head, all together made her mom look younger, softer.

  “Thank you.”

  Craig’s eyes grew more intense than Jessie had yet seen them. It was kind of cool and kind of gross to see him look at her mom that way.

  “For what?” he asked.

  “For protecting Jessie. And for knowing the difference.”

  “What difference?”

  “The difference between me and that thing that was inside of me.”

  “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Chapter Fifty

  Such a better idea than cutting himself.

  Dolan jammed the letter opener into Tanner’s throat and worked a good-sized hole to let the blood out while it still flowed from h
is dead body. The puddle rolled across the dirty floor. Dolan had to jump to his feet and step aside to avoid getting it all over his clothes.

  He took the bronze cube and set one side face down in the blood like filling a stamp with ink. Then he turned the cube to coat another side. He repeated this until all sides were coated. Tanner’s blood ran through the grooves carved in the artifact and stained the bronze surface with a muddy hue. Dolan held the cube with his fingertips to avoid sapping more blood from its surface than necessary. He did not mind the slick feel against the pads of his fingers. He had started playing with blood at seven years of age. It fazed him no more than it would a butcher.

  A sacrifice. Not an ideal one. Most of the passion of Tanner’s death had passed as quickly as the death itself. But it might be enough to awaken the artifact. He might not get his brother back as he had hoped, but he might be able to erase Craig Lockman from this world and peel away enough memories to tell him where to find the stash of artifacts.

  He had every confidence Lockman was still in the building. The imps covered all obvious exits, a wise precaution he had made the moment they had Lockman inside. Otto Dolan would not underestimate him again. Better yet, Dolan still had the Detroit police force on call, courtesy of the Mayor. Tanner’s unfortunate fate was a minor setback in the scheme of things. The plan would continue, and the Movement would have its day.

  Artifact in hand, he stepped over Tanner’s body and headed out to find Lockman.

  Lockman paused, staring into a darkness that thickened the deeper it went.

  “This is insane,” Jessie said.

  “I took the flashlight off that kid back in the room. No worries.”

  “Seriously,” Jessie said. “This is like my worst nightmare. We can’t go this way.”

  “The other ways will be the same.”

  “How is Dolan getting around?” Kate asked.

  “Aside from his own flashlight? He probably knows the place. It’s his little funhouse we have to find our way out of.”

  Jessie raised a hand. “Um, not really feeling the fun.”

  “We can’t just sit here.” Kate grabbed the flashlight from Lockman and turned it on. The darkness seemed to swallow the petty beam.

  Jessie cleared her throat. “I vote for sitting, rather than going into the dark hallway of doom.”

  Lockman stared into the dark. A chill whispered through him. He felt as if something stared back. Could be his imagination getting carried away. He was playing right into Dolan’s plan, letting paranoia make him second guess himself.

  He looked over his shoulder toward the way they had come. The room Dolan had set up for his ritual used to be a break room judging from the cracked linoleum flooring and the battered and empty soda machine in one corner. One tiny room in a potential labyrinth of dark hallways and home to who knew what.

  “Maybe you girls should stay with the light. I’ll scout ahead to make sure it’s safe.”

  “That is the most sexist thing I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth,” Kate said.

  “Sexist?”

  “The girls can’t handle the dark?”

  “This girl can’t,” Jessie said and pointed at herself.

  “I didn’t mean it as sexist. I have the guns.” He indicated the pair of guns tucked into his waistband he had picked off Alec and the kid in the fatigues. “And I know how to use them.”

  “You taught me how to shoot. Don’t you remember?”

  Jessie’s gaze ping-ponged between Lockman and her mom. “You what?”

  Lockman waved a hand. “I tried to show you how to shoot. Once. And after you took out my windshield, I realized shooting was not your thing.”

  Jessie snorted laughter.

  “Are we really going to stand here and criticize my shooting when there’s a lunatic out there with ghosts and werewolves and space aliens out to kill us?”

  Lockman reared his head back. “Really? Space aliens?”

  She threw up her hands. “Why not? You’re going to tell me you don’t believe in little green men?”

  “I’ve never seen one.”

  “I never saw a werewolf until my husband turned into one.”

  “Okay, guys. Can you save the snarky banter for the movie version,” Jessie said. “I want out of here.”

  “She’s right,” Kate said. “But we’re doing it together. No one stays behind or scouts ahead.”

  Lockman studied Kate. He let himself crack a smile. “Okay. But no questions, follow my lead, and—”

  “Do as you say,” Jessie finished. “Think I’ve heard that before.”

  Kate bent down in front of Jessie and put her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “You okay with this?”

  “No,” she said with a straight face. “But if I was going to let fear get the best of me, I would have quit when the vampires had me.”

  Kate’s brow furled. She looked at Lockman. “Vampires?”

  “When we met, it was vampires.”

  “Probably why Dolan’s keeping the place so dark,” Jessie said.

  “Maybe.”

  Kate rattled her head. “Vampires. But no space aliens. Right. Got it.”

  Lockman drew one of his acquired weapons. “Let’s go.”

  “What did you mean by maybe,” Jessie asked as the three of them crept into the dark hallway.

  Lockman swept the hall with the flashlight as they moved forward. “Maybe it’s dark for the vamps. But we haven’t seen a single vamp since LA. I think Dolan gave up on them. Then he tempted fate by trying to control a ghost. If I had to guess, there’s something else creeping around in the shadows here.”

  Jessie’s breathing quickened, echoing in the hall.

  He looked for her, but they had strayed far enough from the break room and the votive light that darkness obscured her face. “You okay?”

  “Of course she isn’t,” Kate said. “Hell, you made me wet myself a little. Try to be a little more positive, will you?”

  Lockman snorted. Positive? She wanted positive from the man who had to behead her husband? Even for an ex-agent with a paranormal ops unit, he found himself in weirder territory than ever before—and not only because of the supernatural. He afforded a wistful thought back to his determination to keep himself emotionally detached.

  “I’ll do my best.”

  The flashlight twisted the shadows before them like black taffy, never quite able to tear through. The temperature dropped a few degrees. Lockman’s arms rippled with gooseflesh. He stopped.

  Jessie and Kate stopped with him, their shoes scuffing on the gritty floor.

  “Anyone know what time of day it is?”

  They both said no. Lockman thought it still should be daylight out, which meant this hall was purposefully kept dark. Which also meant the drop in temperature couldn’t have come from the draft through an open window. Lockman doubted Dolan put any money into heating or cooling.

  The temperature was unnatural. Supernatural.

  “We need to turn around.”

  “Why?” Kate asked.

  “No questions, remember? Follow my lead. Do as I say.”

  Something snuffed in the dark like a bull.

  Lockman swung the light around, scanning the floors, the walls, up the walls, the ceiling.

  The gray, wet face squinted in the light beam and opened its serrated mouth to scream.

  “Run. Run!”

  The three of them spun and charged back the way they came. Lockman did his best to keep the light in front of their rushing feet. Behind him, the sound of hooves clopping on the cement floor followed close.

  He could hear Jessie’s labored breathing. She was hyperventilating. After all she had been through, the darkness was what finally got to her. And he had led her right into it.

  He grabbed her by the arm and pumped his legs harder, hoping he could spur her to run faster. Each breath rattled louder than her last until she broke into a steady heaving. She couldn’t keep on like this. He pushed her ahead and s
wung around, slicing down with the flashlight beam like a sword. He struck the approaching beast square in the face and it scampered to a halt, its hooves grinding against the floor like stone against stone.

  Lockman took aim and opened fire.

  The combination of barrel flashes and the shaking beam from the flashlight filled the hall like a disco strobe. Lockman caught flickering glimpses of the damage he wrought on the creature before him as he continued squeezing the trigger. Gray bits of flesh and blood the color and consistency of hot tar flung from the beast and hit the walls and floor with wet slaps.

  The pistol locked empty.

  Lockman kept the flashlight aimed at the creature which had fallen to the floor. It looked like a cross between a bald Billy goat and a bat. The smell of mold and earth wafted from its carcass.

  “Kate? Jessie?”

  He faintly heard Jessie’s labored breathing over the ringing in his ears from the gunfire.

  “We’re here,” Kate said. “Jessie’s hyperventilating.”

  Another sound rang through the dark hall.

  Lockman lifted the flashlight beam to shine down the way.

  Something moved in the shadows. And again that sound. Like a bowling ball hitting a single pin. Or a hoof clopping against a cement floor.

  “All the way back to the room,” Lockman said. “Into the light. There’s more of them.”

  Chapter Fifty-One

  When they filed back into the break room, Dolan was waiting for them.

  Lockman reached for the second gun in his waistband, but Dolan grabbed Jessie around the throat and shielded himself.

  Lockman lined up the pistol’s sight with Dolan’s head. “Let her go.”

  Jessie was still hyperventilating. Her face had turned a beet red and glistened in the room’s remaining candlelight. Despite that, she tried to stomp on Dolan’s instep.

  He leaned back until she hung by her neck in the crook of his arm, her feet off the floor.

  “Jessie,” Kate shouted.

  “All I want is you,” Dolan said. He raised his free hand to show the cube-shaped artifact now smeared with blood. “Put the gun down and come over here and no one else will get hurt.”