Shadows Fall

by Simon R. Green

  Shadows. The word resonated within him like the tolling of a great iron bell, and glimpses of memories suddenly flickered through his mind, like the shuffling of a pack of cards. He tried to grasp them, but they slipped away, unformed and unfinished, until one memory hit him with the clarity of inspiration. He’d been lonely as a child, so he’d made up an imaginary friend. Called, with a child’s logic and lack of sophistication, simply Friend. He talked to it and confided in it, and his shadow Friend protected him from all the monsters that frightened him at night. The memory surprised and charmed him. He’d never thought of himself as particularly imaginative. Pity his Friend wasn’t around now; he could use some protection.

  On an impulse, he raised his hands and made a shadow shape on the wall before him. He hadn’t done that since he was a small child, but old skills quickly returned, as though that was only yesterday. A rabbit took shape, with twitching ears, and a bird with beating wings, a donkey and a duck. The shadows leapt and danced on the wall before him, rich with meaning. Hart smiled, and lowered his hands. And the shadows stayed where they were.

  Hart fell back a step, his breath caught in his throat. His hands were at his sides but the shadows still clung to the wall, though there was nothing left to cast them. The shadows moved again, repeating the shapes with fluid ease, and then ran slowly down the wall to form another shape; his own shadow. He jerked his feet back rather than make contact with it, and it reared back, a human shape standing as tall as he did, but with folded arms.

  Part of Hart wanted to turn and run, but after some of the things he’d seen in Shadows Fall, a shadow with a mind of its own wasn’t really all that scary. And there was something almost… familiar about it. He’d seen this before, as a child. He remembered this. His Friend.

  “And where the hell have you been?” said an acid voice. “I turn my back for five minutes, and you disappear for twenty-five years! You might at least have left a note. Is this the thanks I get for looking after you all those years? When your father was at work and your mother was too busy? I was always there for you, and what was my reward? Twenty-five years in an empty house. No one to talk to, never any company; if I hadn’t had the house to clean and tidy I’d have lost my mind. No one comes to call, the only neighbour is that crazy woman across the way, poor child, and the only television channel I can get shows nothing but soaps. Plus, not once but on three separate occasions, Father Callahan has tried to exorcise me. He should be so lucky. I’m a shadow, not a ghost, which by all accounts lead far more interesting lives. Well? Have you nothing to say to me?”

  “I was waiting for a chance to get a word in edgeways,” said Hart.

  “Well pardon me for breathing, which I don’t, as it happens. If you’d spent twenty-five years home alone you’d talk to yourself too.”

  “Friend,” said Hart, “I’ve missed you. Even when I couldn’t remember you, there was still a part of me that missed you. How could I have forgotten you?”

  “I wouldn’t touch a straight line like that for all the tea in China. Well, don’t just stand there. Where have you been, what have you been doing; tell me everything.”

  “There was a prophecy. We had to leave in a hurry, or people would have hurt us. I would have taken you with me if I could, but even then I knew you couldn’t survive outside Shadows Fall. I forgot everything when I left, but still, sometimes, I dreamed of you.”

  “They took you away,” said Friend quietly. “I knew you wouldn’t have just gone off and left me. Oh Jimmy; I’ve missed you so!”

  The shadow threw itself forward and wrapped itself around him like a living cloak of darkness. He could feel the weight of it in his arms, the heart beating rapidly against his own. It should have been scary, or at least disturbing, but it wasn’t. It was rather like having an armful of warm puppy; all bright eyes and affection. Friend finally calmed down a bit, and drew back to drape itself down the wall again.

  “It’s good to have you back, Jimmy. Are you going to be staying here?”

  “I suppose so. The house belongs to me now. My mother and my father are dead.”

  “Oh Jimmy, I am sorry. Really. Look, obviously a lot’s happened and I want to hear all about it, but there’s no hurry, is there? You sit yourself down in the main room and take it easy, and I’ll make you a nice cup of coffee.”

  Hart raised an eyebrow. “How are you going to do that when you don’t have a body?”

  “I’ll improvise,” said Friend dryly. “I’ve got as much body as I need to get things done. How do you think I kept the house clean and tidy all these years? Wishful thinking? Now do as you’re told, and you can have some chocolate chip cookies to go with your coffee. You always liked chocolate chip cookies.”

  “Aren’t they going to be rather dry after twenty-five years in the kitchen?”

  “You’re so sharp you’ll cut yourself one of these days. The cookies are fine, like everything else in this house. Everything here is exactly as you left it. I knew you’d be back, some day.”

  The shadow slipped away across the wall like rain sliding down a window, and disappeared in the direction of the kitchen. Hart blinked a few times, and then walked back down the hall and into the main room. Never a dull moment in Shadows Fall… He sank down into what had once been his chair, twenty-five years earlier. It seemed a lot smaller than he remembered, but then it would, wouldn’t it? The room and its furniture seemed smart but dated, like the setting for a sixties sit-com. The television set in particular was large and blocky and looked like something from the Stone Age. He stared at it thoughtfully, hoping it would stir some memory of the programmes he used to watch as a child, and the child who watched them. The television stared blankly back, but slowly something stirred within him. TV shows came back to him that he hadn’t thought about since he was ten years old, or younger.

  Champion the Wonder Horse. Circus Boy. Wagon Train. Bonanza…

  They flickered through his mind in swift succession, bright and cheerful and larger than life (Lassie and The Lone Ranger), but nothing came to him of what it had been like to watch those programmes, all those years ago. They were black and white snapshots, complete in themselves. Hart sighed, and leaned back in his chair. Perhaps the shadow Friend would be the key he needed to unlock his past. It seemed to know all kinds of things. It might even know who his grandfather was. The shadow… shadows had frightened him as a small child. He didn’t like the sudden way they moved when you did, or sneaked around behind you. They watched him all the time, but he couldn’t see their eyes. How could he have forgotten something that had so shaped his early life? There were shadows everywhere once the sun went down, watching silently. Waiting. Some nights he hadn’t been able to sleep, even though his bedroom light was still on, because he was scared the shadows might jump him if he took his eyes off them. He could get rid of the shadows by turning off the light, but sometimes it seemed to him the dark was just one big shadow. So he made up a shadow Friend, to protect him from the other shadows. Only this being Shadows Fall, he ended up with a real imaginary Friend.

  He looked up, startled, as he heard footsteps out in the hall. It couldn’t be Friend; the shadow moved silently. Someone else was in the house with him. He got up and moved quietly over to the door, and then just stood there, his hand dropping away from the door handle. If Friend was real, perhaps the threatening shadows were too… A quick shudder went through him, but he pushed it firmly away. He wasn’t a child any more. He had real enemies these days, and there was always a chance they’d kept a watch on the Hart house, just in case he was stupid enough to come here alone and unarmed… He pushed that thought aside too. It was just as likely his neighbour from across the road, come round to borrow a cup of sugar and scope out her new neighbour.

  That crazy woman across the way. Poor child…

  Hart shook his head. He’d better take a look in the hall while he still could. Any more of this and he’d scare himself into running for his life through the nearest window. He opened the do
or and stepped quickly out into the hall. There was no one there. He grinned shamefacedly, and didn’t know whether to feel relieved or stupid. It was an old house, it was bound to make creaking, settling sounds from time to time. And then he looked down the hall, and saw that the front door was standing just a few inches ajar. He tried to remember whether he’d left it open, and couldn’t make up his mind one way or the other. He moved cautiously down the hall to the door, opened it and looked out. All quiet. No sign of anyone anywhere. He looked across at the other house, but there was no sign of his neighbour at any of the windows. Hart shrugged uneasily, closed the front door firmly and turned round just in time to see the knife heading for his throat.

  He threw himself to one side with speed and reflexes he didn’t know he had, and the knife just missed him. His attacker stumbled forward, caught off balance by the force of her own blow, and Hart drew back his fist. And then he hesitated as he realized his attacker was a thin, gaunt woman who looked almost as scared as he felt. Light gleamed off the knife blade as she prepared for another thrust, and the panicky determination in her face snapped Hart out of his paralysis. He had no doubt she meant to kill him, even though he’d never seen her before in his life.

  The knife shot forward again. Hart dodged, and the blade buried itself in the wood of the door behind him. His attacker tugged at the knife, but it was stuck fast. Hart stepped quickly forward and seized her in a bear hug, pinning her arms to her sides. She struggled fiercely, but he was stronger than her, if only just. She subsided, and they panted in each other’s faces for a moment. He saw the uprising knee in her eyes even as she planned it, and thrust her away from him. She lashed out at him with both fists, trying to force him away from the door so that she could get to the knife again. Hart warded off the blows easily enough, but even so they were strong enough to jolt his arms painfully. And then Friend came sweeping down the hall like a jet black tidal wave and dropped over the woman like an enveloping cloak. She struggled desperately to break free, but Friend was too strong for her, smothering her moves easily. She stopped struggling, and something came from inside the darkness that might have been sobs.

  “Remember the crazy woman from across the road I told you about?” said Friend conversationally. “Well, this is her. Polly Cousins. Spends a lot of time at the window, watching the world go by. Doesn’t get out much, but you can probably tell that. A few guppies short of an aquarium, if you ask me. What do you want me to do with her?”

  “For the moment, hang on to her like grim death,” said Hart, getting his breath back. “Apart from that, I’m open to suggestions. Is the phone working? If it is, I suppose I should call the Sheriff.”

  “No! Please don’t do that.” Polly’s voice was very small, like a child’s. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

  She looked so pathetic and helpless that Hart began to feel rather like a bully. A glance at the long knife still embedded in the front door was enough to dismiss that thought.

  “Take her into the main room, Friend, but don’t let go of her for a moment. There’s a few questions I need answered before I decide what to do next.”

  “It’s your funeral,” said Friend cheerfully. “My advice is to hand her over to the Sheriff, lock her up somewhere especially secure and then swallow the key, but what do I know? I’m just an imaginary friend.”

  The shadow flounced back down the hall, dragging Polly with it. She didn’t put up any resistance, but Hart followed them at a respectful distance, just in case. Back in the main room, Friend dropped Polly into a chair and settled across her lap like a throw rug, holding her firmly in place. Hart pulled up a chair and sat down opposite them.

  “Talk to me, Polly Cousins,” he said evenly. “Tell me why you tried to kill me, when to the best of my knowledge I’ve never set eyes on you before in my life. And while you’re at it, give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just hand you over to the authorities as a dangerous lunatic?”

  “I’m sorry,” said Polly, her voice little more than a murmur. “I panicked. I was looking out of my window, and I recognized you. You’re very like your father, and I remember him well. When I realized who you were, who you had to be, all I could think of was the prophecy. The one that says you’ll destroy the Forever Door and bring Shadows Fall to an end. I was scared. I need the Forever Door, and the influence it has on the town; it’s all that makes my life bearable. It’s all that keeps me sane. I am sane; more or less.” She smiled briefly, sadly. “Though I can understand you might find that hard to believe. You see, I’m… not always myself, and you caught me at a bad moment. I’m back in control now. If you release me, I promise I’ll behave.”

  Hart sat back in his chair. She seemed sane enough, for the moment. Her knife was safely out of reach, and Friend was right there, ready to pounce on her again at a moment’s notice…

  “I have a strong feeling I’m going to regret this, but… all right, Friend; let her go. But stand ready, just in case.”

  “Strikes me you’re as crazy as she is, but you’re in charge. Just don’t blame me if she produces another knife from somewhere. She looks the type. But of course no one listens to me. I’m just a shadow, what do I know?”

  “Friend; get on with it.”

  It sniffed audibly (Hart couldn’t help wondering what with), slipped away from Polly, and flowed up the wall behind her, adopting a human shape again. Polly stretched cautiously.

  “Interesting friend you have there, Jimmy. I remember you telling me about it as a child, and I was never sure whether to believe you or not. You were always telling stories, then.”

  “I prefer James, these days,” said Hart. “You remember me as a child? What was I like? I can’t remember anything from those days.”

  “We went to school together, and we played together sometimes when our parents needed somewhere handy to dump us. Suzanne Dubois told me you were back in Shadows Fall. She saw it in her Cards. I knew you’d come back to the house, sooner or later, but it was still a shock, seeing you again. Rumours and stories have made you something of a bogeyman in your absence; a terrible sword hanging over all of us and everything we care for. I didn’t realize how frightened of you part of me was, until I found myself walking across the road to your front door with a kitchen knife in my hand. But I’m back in control now. There’s… more than one of me, more than one person inside me. One of them is very young, and frightens easily.”

  “You mean you’re a multiple personality?” said Hart interestedly. “I’ve heard of them.”

  “It’s not as simple as that,” said Polly hesitantly. “It’s the house, you see. My house; Four Seasons. Time has broken down there, and who I am and what age I am depends on where in the house I am.”

  Hart looked across at Friend. “Are you following any of this?”

  “Oh sure, this is much more interesting than the soaps on television, and not nearly as complicated. I think we ought to go across the road and take a look at her house.”

  “Can you leave here? I thought you were stuck in this place.”

  “I was, till you came back, but now I can go anywhere you can. I’m your shadow. Do let’s go, Jimmy, I mean James. I haven’t been out of this house in twenty-five years, and Polly’s place sounds absolutely fascinating.”

  “Not five minutes ago, you were all for locking her up and forgetting where they put her. But you’re right; it does sound fascinating. Lead the way, Polly. But if you even look like you’re going for another knife, I’ll have Friend drop on you like a ton of bricks. Is that clear?”

  “Of course, James. I appreciate your need for caution. Please understand; this isn’t easy for me. I haven’t had a stranger in my house for more years than I care to remember. I’m going to have to talk about things I don’t even discuss with myself. But I think it’s time I talked to someone. And if you’re as powerful as you’re supposed to be, maybe you can find a way out of the hell I’ve made for myself.”

  “I’m not powerful,” said Hart. “I’m not a
nybody special. I’m just me.”

  “I hope you’re wrong,” said Polly. “For both our sakes.”

  She rose hesitantly to her feet, as though expecting him to change his mind at any moment, and led the way out into the hall. Hart stayed right behind her, ready to grab her or jump out of reach, as need be. She seemed sane enough now, but her knife had made a strong impression on him. People with knives were something he took very seriously. Polly stopped at his front door, glanced at the knife sticking out of the wood, and then pulled open the door and stepped out into the street. Hart went out after her, Friend bobbing along at his heels like any other shadow. He carefully locked the door behind him, and then the three of them crossed the road to Polly’s house. It looked ordinary enough to Hart, but he’d been in Shadows Fall long enough to know that didn’t mean a damn thing. Time has broken down there… Polly opened her front door and went inside. Hart and Friend followed her in, hanging back just a little.

  There was something definitely wrong about the house called Four Seasons. Hart could feel it on the air; an unending tension, a sense of pressure, of purpose. Of someone or something waiting. He stepped into the hallway, brightly lit by the afternoon sun, and had to fight an impulse to keep looking back over his shoulder. How could Polly live in a place like this? He’d only just arrived, and already he wanted to turn around and walk right out again. Polly looked back to say something, and he quickly made sure there was nothing in his face to betray his unease. For the first time he thought he understood the tension within her, that kept her always strained and agitated, like a guitar string pulled too taut too long. She blushed lightly as he stared at her, and put a hand to her dishevelled hair, as though realizing for the first time how she must look to him.