Blind Shadows

by James A. Moore

  “Want to try that one again?” Griffin said.

  “And talk slow,” said Carl. “I’m a simple country sheriff.”

  Charon has already tumbled to the fact that Carl enjoyed the country boy act, but there wasn’t anything slow about him. She let the comment pass though and said, “We’re dealing with a geometry that doesn’t work on our three dimensional plane of existence. Decamp said that some of the Moon-Eyes are living in more than one dimension and I think we’ve all seen enough evidence of that. Apparently though they’ve also found a way to make that house extend into dimensions outside of our own.”

  “It was gigantic inside,” Griffin said. “And the space shifted while I was in there.”

  Charon said, “Yes, I wouldn’t think an inter-dimensional house would be too stable.”

  Carl said, “Then how do the Blackbournes deal with it? I mean they have to get around in there.”

  Charon said, “My guess would be that the more powerful Blackbornes can shift with the house. Remember, living in multiple dimensions is the norm for them.”

  “Going to make getting any of them out who don’t want to come out pretty damn hard,” Carl said.

  “Unless we burn the place down,” Griffin said. “Or blow it up.”

  “There’s a thought,” said Carl.

  “I don’t know guys,” Charon said. “We should probably talk to Decamp before you do anything like that. Blowing up an unstable inter-dimensional house might cause some serious problems with our own dimension. And no, I can’t believe I just strung a sentence like that together either.”

  Carl said, “Well anyway, the house isn’t our biggest headache right now. It’s whatever the Blackbourne’s have planed for Halloween.”

  “Whatever it is,” Charon said, “Given what we know of past ceremonies it probably involves Mooney’s Bluff.”

  “Might be something I can do about that,” Carl said. “Hell, if it comes down to it, I can get enough deputies together to sew the whole bluff up for the night. That would put a crimp in their ceremony.”

  Griffin said. “We still don’t know where the Blackbournes are keeping hostages, if they have them, either.”

  “Given what you said about the house, they could have dozens of people locked up in there,” Charon said.

  Griffin said, “Carl, didn’t your buddy Andy say there were caves in the hillside under the bluff?”

  Carl said, “He did and that would be a possibility as well. I’ll look into that one.”

  “That works,” said Griffin.

  “You going to talk to Decamp about the house?”

  “Seems like a good plan, yeah.”

  “Might want to go in the back and clean up a bit first. You’ve still got a lot of blood and muck on you.”

  “And giant worm slime,” said Griffin.

  “And that,” said Carl.

  * * *

  Andrew Hunter took it nice and slow as he circled his house looking for the note that the voice had told him to look for. It was a good thing, too, because the note was very well hidden, stuck as it was half under the back porch stair where he kept his spare key. He moved the key and decided it was time to find a better spot for it.

  It wasn’t a heart attack. He supposed that was good news. The paramedics seemed surprised that he was in such good shape. He suspected the daily walks helped.

  The note was on a simple scrap of paper. It said GIVE THE CHARMS TO SIOBHAN ON HALLOWEEN NIGHT and nothing more. It took him a few seconds to even remember the charm bracelet. To be sure he remembered Carl handing the thing to him, and he remembered looking it over, but mostly he thought it was rather unremarkable. That said, he called Carl as soon as he got inside and told him about the message.

  “Why the hell didn’t you tell me about this yesterday, Andy?”

  “Watch your tone with me, boy. Mostly I didn’t tell you because you looked ready to curl up and die you were so tired, and I didn’t need you stomping around in the dark looking for something you likely wouldn’t find.”

  “What makes you so sure I wouldn’t find it?”

  “Because, son, this is my house. I know where everything is and you do not.” He sighed. “Now, you can either whine about not getting your way, or you can get over here with that little necklace so I can look at the charms a second time.”

  “You think it will make a difference?”

  He dropped the temperature in the room by several degrees with his response. “Well, we won’t know until you bring it. But as I now know you’re looking into certain local legends a good deal more, perhaps I can find a few correlations I didn’t before.”

  “I’ll be right over then.” He smiled at Carl’s response. Maybe someday he’d take it easy on the younger man, but for now he deeply enjoyed the fact that he could make the sheriff of the county jump with the tone he used. It also made him feel a little better about calling on the same man like a little old lady the night before. No, it wasn’t rational, but it still made him feel better.

  * * *

  Jolene got home just in time to see her mother heading for the heart of town. Siobhan was dressed to kill, which in this case meant she looked like the sort of woman who could wrap a man around each finger and call them costume jewelry. That irrational twinge of jealousy roared through Jolene as she looked at her mother. And she knew it was irrational, too. Most men easily succumbed to her charms—there were exceptions, like Sheriff Carl Price, but she was still working on chipping away at that armor—but she had never met a heterosexual man who could resist her mother. Of course the difference was that her mother had years of practice with their unique talents and Jolene was still growing into them.

  “Is everything okay, Momma?”

  Siobhan didn’t even look in her direction. “You know it’s not. Like I haven’t already heard you were down in the Hollow when everything happened. It’s just a good thing I don’t have to bail you out, too.”

  * * *

  Siobhan Blackbourne walked into the county clerk’s office sporting three important things: her pocketbook, her cell phone and her lawyer’s phone number. Amazing thing about lawyers: they can be very effective with the right motivations. That was where the pocketbook came in.

  What should have happened and what did happen were two entirely different things. The woman came into the area, met up with the clerk, talked to him and then a few minutes later was dealing directly with the Honorable Walter McPherson, a judge with a reputation as an extreme hardass, who had, in fact, agreed to the blanket warrants that were issued to Carl Price and his department in consideration of over fifty stolen cars and a strong number of missing persons. Fifteen minutes later, the judge agreed to let four of the dozens arrested in the Hollow go with only 5,000 dollars bail per individual. First among the family members released was Merle Blackbourne.

  It’s probably an exaggeration to say that Carl Price’s stream of expletives could be heard all the way in Texas, but maybe not by much.

  * * *

  Books and more books, archives and volumes of collections of notes. Andrew Hunter scratched his head and sighed. There was something he was missing, an old reference to a pale people who could not abide the light.

  Finally, frustrated from looking over his own collection, he tried reaching out to an old associate, genuinely not certain if the man was still alive.

  The phone rang three times and then was answered. “Crowley. What.”

  “Jonathan?”

  “Yes, this is Jonathan Crowley. What can I do for you?” The voice was terse and bordered on a growl.

  “Jonathan, this is Andy Hunter. We met at—”

  “Oh, of course, Andy. Lovely to hear from you. How have you been?”

  “Well, you know how it goes. We’re all of us getting older.”

  There was a chuckle on the line. “True enough. Listen, Andy, I hate to be that guy, but I’m a bit busy at the moment. What is it I can do for you?”

  “Actually, I’ve been researchi
ng the Moon-Eyed People for a man in this area and I ran across a necklace with several different charms on it. Most of them I can identify, but there are a few that are completely boggling me. And. Well, Jonathan, let’s be fair here. When it comes to the odd stuff you’re normally the go-to guy.”

  “Do you have pictures?”

  “I can certainly take a few.”

  “Do you have a camera on your phone?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact I do.” Brief flash of pride. He liked not being a Luddite.

  “So, shoot a few quick shots and send them my way. I can get back to you in around fifteen minutes. Sound good?” It sounded like the man was in a movie theater. There were screams in the distance and what sounded like growls. He hoped Crowley wasn’t interrupting anyone’s movie just for him. Then again, Jonathan Crowley wasn’t exactly a social butterfly. More likely he was watching a video at home.

  “I’ll take them and send them straight away.”

  “Hang on.” There was another, much louder noise and then silence. Sounded like his old associate had finally figured out where the pause button was on his remote control. “Perfect. I’ll get right back to you.”

  Ten minutes of playing around with the controls on his “smart” phone was enough to make him feel like an old fart, but it also was enough to let him figure out which buttons and pictures correlated to allow him to take close up pictures of the different charms on the silver chain. He shot the pictures to Crowley and then wandered into the kitchen to make tea. It was getting damned cold outside and he could almost hear his joints creaking.

  He’d just poured the water from his kettle into the old stoneware mug one of his old secretaries had given him years and years ago—she’d wanted to get closer, not the least bit aware that he wasn’t interested in anything but friendship—when his phone rang. The cell phone, of course, so he had to go hunt the thing down because he wasn’t smart enough to bring the fool thing with him.

  “Hello?”

  “Andrew? It’s Crowley. You have an interesting collection of charms there. Mostly they’re for protection. A couple of them are for luck. But there are three of them that are specifically designed for, shall we say unique purposes? There’s one to keep the dead where they belong. It’s kind of like a prayer bead that hopes the dead will keep sleeping. There’s another that is specifically to make unstable minds act more rationally—we’re talking very old here, too. We’re talking back to Babylon stuff. And in this case, it refers specifically to madness brought on by the moon. Oh, and the third is supposed to be for birth control. I’m not completely sure but I think a few of the old time religions used it. Egypt, possibly very early Assyrian. If the charms are real instead of duplicates, you’ve got someone who’s been carrying some serious antiquities around their neck.”

  Andy frowned. “Well isn’t that the darnedest combination.”

  “Like as not each was meant to be used separately. I mean, it isn’t every day you run across undead, pregnant crazies. Then again, we’ve both survived a few runs of hell week on campus.”

  Andy chuckled. Before he could respond any further Crowley asked if there was anything else he could help with. When Andy said no, the man said it was great to hear from him and killed the call abruptly.

  Sometimes that man made no sense at all.

  Still, he jotted down the references and got ready to call Carl Price.

  * * *

  Charon sat in the passenger seat of Griffin’s truck as they drove through the Wellman town square in the gathering dusk. A few people were putting the finishing touches on the decorations for the town’s big Halloween party. From what Griffin had told her, it was a pretty big deal in Wellman. The centerpiece was a huge scarecrow surrounded by headstones, pumpkins, and corn stalks. Charon looked over at Griffin. His face had the alert attitude it always had when he drove, as if he were always expecting trouble. Maybe he was.

  Charon said, “Um…we haven’t really had a chance to talk about last night.”

  “Is there something to talk about?” As usual, Griffin was unreadable.

  Charon said, “Well, I guess I’m wondering what that means to our, um, friendship. I mean are we an item now, or friends with benefits or was that just a heat of the moment thing? You know?”

  Griffin glanced over at her and smiled. “I’m voting for item.”

  Charon found she was having trouble breathing properly, but she also felt giddy. How long had she waited for this big idiot to realize she was right for him? She said, “I’m voting for that too.”

  “Good,” Griffin said. “It’s unanimous.”

  Charon said, “Not to jinx things, but curious gal that I am, I have to ask what changed things? You were fending off my best attempts at seduction.”

  Griffin grinned. “Is that what those were?”

  “Yes, smart ass.”

  “I just got to know you, Charon. That’s really all it took. I had some problems in relationships before, and I guess I’m a little gun shy, but I realized last night, when I thought something might have happened to you that I cared a lot about you. So I acted on it.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “Me too, but there are some things you’re going to have to know about me.”

  “I’ve learned a lot just listening to you and Carl talk. Before you were a private investigator you were, what, a mercenary?”

  “I’m still a mercenary, but no that’s not what I meant. Not precisely. It’s about my house and the woman who lived there with me.”

  Charon sensed that this wasn’t something Griffin wanted to talk about. He was looking straight ahead and his voice sounded tight.

  Griffin said, “I was living with a woman named Beth and we’d been together about two years. We were engaged and the whole nine yards. Anyway, and this is the important part, when you do what I do you make enemies. There was a guy, a seriously bad guy, who had been involved in an operation I took part in when I was working in South America. No point in saying exactly where, but anyway, this guy lost a lot of money and he blamed me. One night, Beth and I came home from a movie and he was hiding outside the house. He was good with a knife, and he made a run at me.”

  “Did something happen to Beth?”

  “She wasn’t hurt. Not physically. Like I said, the guy was good with a knife and I couldn’t take any chances with him so I killed him with my bare hands. Beth knew what I did. Intellectually she knew. But I guess seeing me kill another human being like that was just more than she could handle. She moved out that weekend and that was that.”

  Charon placed her hand on Griffin’s arm. “I’m not Beth.”

  Griffin said. “No, and you’ve seen me do some things, but I wanted you to know what could happen. I live a violent life and sometimes it has repercussions.”

  “We’ll deal with those when they come, Griffin.”

  Griffin nodded and they were quiet the rest of the short drive to the hospital.

  * * *

  Carter Decamp was sitting up reading when Griffin and Charon entered his room. Griffin thought his color looked bad, but who looks right under those florescent bulbs all hospitals seem to favor? Griffin said, “Evening, Decamp. You’re looking better.”

  Decamp said, “Your expression says different, Griffin, but we’ll go with that. I’m feeling better, but the leg hurts like hell.”

  “Isaiah took a big chunk out of it.”

  “He did. Now, what have you two fine young people come to talk to me about?”

  “Maybe we’re just visiting,’ said Griffin.

  “And maybe I’m the Pope,” said Decamp. “What have you been up to since I saw you last?”

  Charon took the room’s single chair and Griffin leaned against the wall and told Decamp what had happened during his visit to the Blackbourne house. When Griffin was done, Decamp said, “That’s very very bad. You can’t imagine what kind of power is involved in keeping a structure like that stable on one plane of reality. I don’t even want to think about
how many people must have died to make that possible.”

  Griffin flashed on the scores of missing cars Carl had uncovered. “So the Blackbournes are probably having to work to maintain it?”

  “Oh definitely. And that bodes very ill indeed. They must have some reason for opening various dimensional barriers, but the chaos you described inside the house doesn’t make much sense to me. I could see one or two branching dimensions as a source of eldritch energy, but not dozens. Something serious is afoot.”

  “Something to do with opening the path to the other side?” said Charon.

  “Almost certainly. I just don’t see how it fits. I need to get home to my books.”

  “I wouldn’t advise it,’ Griffin said. “I read your chart.”

  “You’re a doctor, Griffin?”

  “No but I’ve seen a lot of injuries. You need to stay here a few more days.”

  “That’s what the doctors keep telling me. Seems my precautions didn’t stop all the infection from setting in.”

  “Maybe we could bring you some of your books,” Charon said.

  “You couldn’t get into my house, my dear.”

  Griffin said, “No offense, Decamp, but I’ve seen your place. Those Victorian windows wouldn’t slow me down for ten seconds.”

  Decamp said, “And you’d be dead in less time than that if you tampered with them.”

  Griffin raised an eyebrow. “Booby trapped?”

  “Not in the way you mean. I have certain dangerous items in my home and I’ve taken precautions. Why do you think the Blackbournes have left me alone all these years?”

  Charon said, “You’ve warded your home.”

  Decamp smiled. “And then some. But on to happier things. I spoke to Whit Gramling’s doctor and he says Whit is recovering nicely. That is one tough old man.”