Closed at Dark: A Soren Chase Novella (The Soren Chase Series)

by Rob Blackwell

  Sara was looking at him warily, still eying the gun in his hand. He gestured toward the sofa in his living room and she moved to sit down. Her son got there first and almost collapsed on it.

  Soren disappeared for a moment into his bedroom and put the gun away in his bedside drawer, locking it inside a gun safe. He didn’t normally take such precautions when he was alone in his apartment, but he hated the idea of a small boy discovering his weapon.

  When he came back, the boy had his head in his mother’s lap and she had her arm around him. He mentally calculated the boy’s age and knew he must be seven years old. But in that moment, he seemed far younger.

  He pulled a chair closer to the couch and sat down.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  Sara held his gaze for what felt like forever. She seemed to be searching for something in his expression, but he couldn’t guess what. To him, she looked almost exactly the same as seven years ago. Her black hair had been short and curly when they’d been in college. Now it was straight, and stretched down past her shoulders. But her face looked no older. She had beautiful dark brown skin and high cheek bones.

  Even tired, frightened and confronted with a weapon, she still carried herself with a natural grace that seemed to elude most other people. He noticed the small scar above her right eyebrow, the result of a biking accident two decades ago. He could still remember the blood streaming down her face as she sat on the sidewalk. John had freaked out, but Sara was calm and collected. Even when she had to go to the hospital to get stitches, he never saw her cry.

  It was funny how it didn’t feel that long since he’d seen her. He thought about her and John so much, it might as well have been last week. But looking her in the face made it all feel so much more real, and his grief — their grief — more poignant.

  “I’m sorry to surprise you like this,” she said. “Maybe I should have called, but...”

  “It’s fine,” Soren said. “If you’re in trouble, I want to help.”

  It wasn’t fine, of course. He’d done his best to put distance between himself and his old life. He cared for Sara and always would, but he had assumed she’d never want to see him again. Her sudden appearance was jarring.

  But he meant the other things he’d said. If she was in trouble, he wanted to know. He owed her a debt he could never repay. Sara nodded.

  “You look just the same,” she said.

  Soren smiled.

  “Funny, I was just thinking the same about you,” he said.

  He glanced down at himself. He knew that on the outside, what she’d said was probably right. He still had the same runner’s physique he’d had in high school and college — he worked diligently to stay in shape. He lived a strange and dangerous life now, making training and exercise even more important. He paid even less attention to his clothes than he used to, and his brown hair was still a tousled mess. He’d developed a fondness for wearing sunglasses, but that was about the only change to his fashion sense.

  Yet he felt radically different, almost unrecognizable. The Soren Chase of so many years ago was carefree and happy. He couldn’t remember everything about his old life — a car accident seven years ago had taken some of that away — but he knew he’d had lots of friends and hadn’t lacked for female company when he’d desired it. The Soren Chase who lived in the apartment now was dour and solitary, focused only on his mission.

  “I have a case for you,” Sara said. “I’m willing to pay...”

  “You’ll never need to pay me,” Soren said, more brusquely than he intended. “And I’ll take the case, no matter what it is.”

  He could see her shoulders sag in relief.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  She told him the whole story, a strange tale of a mysterious white-haired man who led her son away from the playground and then promptly disappeared. Soren listened to it without comment, nodding periodically. He didn’t take notes. He found his recollection better when he just concentrated on the client.

  He was relieved that Sara passed all his usual tests. In his years as a paranormal investigator, he’d had to learn to quickly assess a client’s mental stability, lest he end up drawn into a case that was just a crazy person’s flight of fancy. But Sara hit all the right marks. She looked him in the eye and appeared suitably doubtful of her own story, but also confident of what she’d seen.

  Even if he hadn’t known her as well as he did, he would have been sure she was telling the truth. He’d been wrong from time to time about his snap judgments, but not often.

  “So,” she said when she stopped. “Am I nuts?”

  Soren saw Alex watching him with big brown eyes. He thought about making a joke, but decided against it. Mother and child seemed too fragile.

  “Of course not,” Soren said.

  He saw her subtly relax back into his couch. Clearly, she needed someone to believe her.

  “You’ve seen something like this before?” she asked.

  Soren shook his head.

  “No, but that doesn’t mean anything,” he responded. “The world is a strange and dangerous place. It constantly surprises me.”

  “I don’t find that very comforting,” she said.

  “Nor should you. What did the police say?”

  “We spent most of the afternoon there,” Sara said. “They believed there was a stranger, thank God for that. The other boy, Chris, had seen the man standing just off to the side of the playground. He saw Alex talking to him.”

  “But they dismissed his disappearing act,” Soren said.

  “I think they thought I was hysterical,” Sara said. “Officially, the man ran off after I caught him with Alex.”

  “Look, I know it’s frustrating, but it could be worse,” Soren said. “There’s at least a file on the guy now.”

  “Apparently there already was. He’s been spotted in several playgrounds, but nobody said anything about him being a ghost.”

  “Oh, he wasn’t a ghost,” Soren said.

  Sara appeared startled.

  “But I thought you said you...”

  “Believed you? Yes,” he said. “I’m just saying it wasn’t a ghost. In the supernatural world, everything has a specific name. ‘Ghost’ refers to a trapped spirit who can’t move on from the trauma in its life. They tend to haunt a single location and have difficulty interacting with the living. There are exceptions, but what you’re describing doesn’t match. If he’s showing up at multiple playgrounds and talking to kids, the thing that took your son isn’t a ghost.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “Don’t know yet,” Soren said. “Did you notice anything else about him other than his white hair?”

  “He was unusually tall and had pale skin,” Sara said. “Also, he had these weird eyes. They were silver, like coins. Or liquid mercury. They were awful to look at.”

  Soren leaned back in his chair and looked thoughtful.

  “Silver eyes...” he said. “Can’t remember where, but I’ve heard of something like that. I’ll look into it.”

  “I don’t really follow,” she said. “If it’s not a ghost...”

  It was Alex who spoke next.

  “It was a monster,” he said. “That’s what he’s saying.”

  Soren thought about lying to him. He hadn’t been around kids much, but he knew it was traditional to shield them from harsh truths. He decided it was better to level with him.

  “Exactly,” Soren said. “And unfortunately, there are a great variety of them. It’s not always easy to know what you’re dealing with.”

  Sara visibly shivered.

  “I...” she started and then stopped.

  Soren smiled. He knew what she was going to say. Even those who saw extraordinary things had a tendency to dismiss them. It was human nature. Very few perceived what the world was really like. If they did, they would probably go mad.

  “Actually, I’d like to ask you a few questions,” Soren told Alex. “Your friend Chris said something
about you going off to see your father. Why?”

  Alex shook his head.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “The last thing I remember was playing in the net with Chris. Then my mom was shaking me and I was in the woods. I don’t know what my dad had to do with it.”

  Soren had just met Alex, but he’d known both his parents since they were six years old. The boy took after his mother in looks, with the same dark skin and curly, black hair. His face was like a miniature of hers, and even his body language was similar. Soren had a hard time seeing traces of John in the boy. He recognized the expression he wore, however. Alex was lying.

  He decided to let it go for now. It might be that Alex was afraid of bothering his mother, or it could be that he was just scared. Either way, he wanted the boy to know him a little better before he tried to directly challenge him.

  “Okay,” he said, letting his eyes linger on the boy’s face for a moment.

  Alex yawned dramatically.

  “What do you know about the Leesburg Inn?” Sara asked. “We’re going to stay there for the night.”

  “You’re not going home?”

  “The way that guy looked at me...” she said. “I had the feeling he knew who we were. I don’t want to go home.”

  Soren knew she was probably right. He made a snap decision.

  “Then stay here,” Soren said. “The Leesburg Inn’s fine, but it had an incident a few years ago that I don’t think would reassure you.”

  “Soren, we can’t just show up here uninvited and crash at your place,” she said.

  “Sure you can,” Soren said. “You two can have my bed and I’ll take the couch. I’ve slept in far worse places.”

  “This isn’t college,” she said. “I can afford a hotel room.”

  Soren looked into her eyes.

  “The issue isn’t money,” he said. “The question is where do you feel safest?”

  She paused for a moment.

  “Here,” Sara replied.

  “Exactly,” he said. “Now tell me what your car looks like and I’ll go get your stuff. You guys stay put.”

  He thought she might argue further, but she told him where to find her car and he retrieved what few belongings she’d stopped to pack. Once he returned, he already found Alex tucked away in his bed, fast asleep.

  “That was quick,” he whispered when he came into the bedroom.

  “He’s wiped out,” she said. “The police threw all kinds of questions at him, even had him sit with a sketch artist. And ever since then, I’ve been afraid to stay in the same place for more than a minute. I keep worrying if I take my eyes off him, he’ll just...”

  Her voice hitched, and Soren put an arm around her. It simultaneously felt natural and like the strangest thing in the world. He and Sara had once been close. This kind of interaction would have been normal back then, even though she was the fiancée of his best friend. But it had been so long since those days. Still, he kept his arm there, even if it now felt awkward.

  “You came to the right place,” he said. “I can help you.”

  She looked up at him and held his gaze.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I know it’s painful for me to be here. I should have at least called.”

  “I’m just wondering how you knew where I lived,” he said.

  “Your father,” Sara said. “I’m afraid I caught him by surprise too, but he told me. Although he said it was ‘the last address he had.’ You guys used to be tight. What happened?”

  Soren looked away.

  “Same reason we don’t talk anymore, Sara,” he said.

  “No,” she said. “Surely your parents don’t think...”

  She stopped. Soren shrugged.

  “I don’t know what my dad thinks,” he said. “But I’m clear on where my mom stands on the matter.”

  “Oh, Soren, I’m so sorry,” she said. “I just assumed that they would...”

  Soren pulled away. He was determined not to let it bother him. He’d done his best to bury the past.

  “It’s fine,” he said.

  “Oh, it’s definitely not fine,” she said. “I can talk to him, if you want. He sounded shocked to hear from me, but not angry.”

  “They have their opinions. You’re not going to sway them,” he said. “How did you know I’m a paranormal investigator?”

  “I found your blog, Soren,” she said. “I searched for you online a while back, and it was one of the first things that popped up. It was fascinating. From what I can tell, it sounds like you’re really well known among supernatural investigators. I saw something that described you as ‘one of the best.’”

  “You wouldn’t know it from my paycheck,” Soren said.

  “I just don’t know why you chose this line of work,” she said. “John was always the one interested in the supernatural, not you.”

  Just thinking of John hurt. How did you recover from the death of your best friend? He knew time was supposed to be the healer of all wounds, but his still felt fresh. He could tell her why he was a supernatural investigator. It was the same reason she was a widow — or would have been if John had made it to the wedding.

  He could tell her the whole story, probably should. But would she believe him? Would anyone? He could also say that he’d become “one of the best” investigators because he was trying to make up for failing John. He’d dedicated his life to that goal.

  Instead, he willfully changed the subject. He wasn’t going to burden her with his baggage. She carried too much of her own already.

  “You can sleep here as long as you like,” he said.

  “I don’t know that it’s necessary,” she replied.

  Soren took a deep breath.

  “Unfortunately, I do,” Soren said. “Trust your instincts. You said you thought the guy knew who you were?”

  Sara nodded.

  “I don’t know how, but yes,” she said.

  “There are creatures who could know that,” Soren said.

  “The worst part isn’t that he grabbed Alex,” Sara said. “It’s what he said. ‘Your son is next.’ It didn’t sound like a threat exactly. It was more like a prediction. And it scares the hell out of me.”

  Soren walked over to the bedside table, unlocked the safe and took out his gun again.

  “I’ll be honest — it should scare you,” he said. “What we’re dealing with is unusual, and that’s almost always bad. But for right now, you need to get some sleep. I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

  “Soren, what is this thing?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” Soren said. “But I promise you this — I won’t rest until I find out.”

  Chapter Three

  Soren shut the bedroom door as he left and went to work.

  It was late, but that didn’t matter. There was no chance he was going to fall asleep, not with Sara stirring up so many memories. If he closed his eyes, he could see her waving to him and John as they drove away. It was the last time she’d seen John alive.

  The case also intrigued him. He wanted to know more about what he was dealing with.

  He grabbed his laptop from the kitchen, sat down at the dining room table and flipped it open. He didn’t bother doing research on ghosts. He was confident in what he’d told Sara earlier — this wasn’t their modus operandi. He was looking for a creature who could disappear, probably read minds and possibly tell the future.

  Unfortunately for him, that wasn’t nearly descriptive enough. He came across at least a dozen monsters who fit the bill, but none of them matched the description Sara had given. Her reference to “silver eyes” also intrigued him, but pinning anything down proved elusive. He found nothing in the paranormal websites he visited. He also couldn’t remember where he had heard the description before. It was possible it was from another case he worked, but he couldn’t recall it.

  Not that a failure to remember something vital was unusual for him. Ever since the accident, his memory was filled with holes. It was
n’t complete amnesia — he knew who he was and retained most of his history — but there were critical parts that were missing. He would just have to live with that. Still, “silver eyes” nagged at him. He knew he’d come across it somewhere before.

  Yet after an hour of searching, he was finding very little.

  He decided to try a different approach. Instead of focusing on the monster, he should look for the man. If there were sightings of a mysterious white-haired guy trying to kidnap kids, there were likely other mentions of it somewhere.

  When he typed the description into Google, he was blown away. He whistled softly to himself.

  “The man with the white hair” was everywhere — literally. He’d been spotted in at least 15 states, always near places where kids congregated, like schools or playgrounds. The descriptions were the same description as Sara had offered: very pale, unusually tall, with white hair. Some went further and described him as soft-spoken, but with a menacing air.

  Soren found dozens of mentions of the man across various message boards, always from concerned parents claiming to have heard he was in their community. The messages were eerily similar to each other. The man always approached kids when they were alone and usually tried to convince them to come with him. The kids reacted to him differently. Some found him charming, others said he spoke with authority, like a teacher. But he always wanted to lead them away from other children.

  Soren didn’t like it, and it wasn’t just because the guy was targeting kids. There was no doubt about it — the man with the white hair was his own urban legend. The entries lacked certain concrete specifics. They talked of what had happened to “their friend” or “a neighbor” and sometimes even “my sister.” What was missing, however, were entries from the actual people involved.

  He could remember John telling him some story when they were kids. He remembered it only vaguely, but it was about a woman home alone with only her dog to protect her. When she woke during the night, she would reach down under her bed and the dog would lick her hand to let her know everything was okay. But one night she awoke in the morning to find her dog dead outside and a note that read, “Dogs aren’t the only thing that can lick hands.”