Shadow People

by James Swain

  “What’s this thing around my neck, anyway? It’s not my color.”

  “Leave it on. It will protect you from being kidnapped again.”

  He pushed Snoop into the kitchen and looked for an exit. Snoop pilfered a vegetarian egg roll out of a pan sitting on the stove, and started to eat it. “Is that what happened to me? I was kidnapped by that weird black thing?”

  “It’s called a shadow person, and it’s an evil spirit. It kidnapped your soul, and took you to the home of a serial killer. Don’t ask me why, because I haven’t figured out that part yet.”

  “Could I have died?”

  “It was a distinct possibility. I need to pick your brain. We have to catch this guy.”

  Snoop chewed contemplatively. “I’m game.”

  27

  Opening Ceremony was the most daring clothing boutique in the city, and a few short blocks away. Snoop suggested they get a window seat at the Starbucks across the street from it. Girl watching was his passion.

  They both got the house roast and a toasted sesame bagel. A window table opened up and they grabbed it. Peter sipped his drink, realizing how lucky it was Snoop was still alive. Either he was going to have to give every person he knew a five-pointed star, or he’d have to come up with another way to deal with this problem. Snoop leaned forward on his elbows and spoke in a whisper. “I heard you beating that thing in the restaurant. Did you kill it?”

  Peter shook his head and sipped his drink.

  “If you don’t mind my asking, how did you do that?”

  Another moment of truth. There should have been a law that a person didn’t have to deal with more than one of those a day. Should he tell Snoop who he was, or continue to lie to his best friend? He decided to tell the truth.

  “It’s called dark magic,” Peter explained, his voice barely audible. “It’s a special gift that I was born with. I can read minds, see into the future, and when I set my mind to it, move objects around by telekinesis. I also conduct séances with some of my psychic friends.”

  “Do you talk to dead people?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Are there really such things as ghosts?”

  “Yes, and they’re everywhere.”

  Snoop chewed on his bagel. He did not seem terribly surprised by Peter’s admission. Perhaps he’d known all along that Peter was psychic, and because they were tight, had never let on. A better friend he’d never had.

  “What about the magic tricks? Are they your cover?” Snoop asked.

  “I guess you could call them that,” Peter said. “If I slip up, I tell people it’s a trick, and no one’s the wiser. I’ve been doing it all my life, and never been caught.”

  “Which makes you a very interesting guy. Does Liza know?”

  “I told her a few weeks ago. The shock is starting to settle in.”

  “That bad?”

  “We went to see a shrink this morning. It didn’t go well.”

  Snoop put down his half-eaten bagel. A knowing look spread across his face.

  “Was the shrink’s name Dr. Sierra?” his assistant asked.

  Peter’s coffee cup hit the table hard. “How did you know that?”

  “Oh, wow, I fooled you. That’s a first. Let’s write this down and get it notarized.”

  “Come on, tell me.”

  Snoop took out his Droid. He carried the same model that Peter did, and was resisting turning it in for an upgrade, just as Peter was. They were alike in many ways, and often joked that they were twins separated at birth. Snoop punched an app, and a live shot of a surveillance camera outside Peter’s theater appeared on the tiny screen. He hit another button, and a live shot from the camera in the alley came on. Pushing more buttons, he revealed shots from the surveillance cameras inside the theater that ran 24/7.

  “I didn’t know that was possible with a Droid,” Peter said.

  “They don’t call me Snoop for nothing. The system also has a memory. Take a look at this video that was shot earlier.”

  Snoop pushed another button. On the screen appeared a video showing a man standing outside the theater, banging on the front door. It was Dr. Sierra, wearing a hat and coat. With him was a second man, quite sickly in appearance, who carried a wooden cane. The second man wore a solemn expression on his face.

  “I like to check on the theater and make sure everything’s okay,” Snoop explained. “I caught Dr. Sierra and his friend banging on the door this afternoon. He was there for a while. Then he went across the street to get a sandwich with his friend. Something told me I should call this guy, and find out what he wanted. So I called the restaurant, and asked to speak with him.”

  “He must have been surprised,” Peter said, enjoying his assistant’s ingenuity.

  “He was. He said he urgently needed to speak with you. I thought he was a kook, and asked him who his friend was. That’s when he clammed up.”

  “He wouldn’t tell you who the other person was?”

  “No, and I asked him a few times. It bothered me that he wouldn’t give me the other guy’s name or anything.”

  Was this Hunsinger, the colleague Dr. Sierra had mentioned to Liza? If so, why had Sierra dragged him out on a Monday afternoon and brought him to Peter’s theater? Sierra had betrayed him in so many ways that it made Peter angry thinking about it.

  At the next table, a college-aged girl enjoying a latte let out a yelp. Her cup was boiling over, the brown liquid singeing her manicured fingers. She looked bewildered, which was how most people reacted when confronted by the paranormal. Peter forced himself to calm down, and the drink went back to its normal state.

  Peter glanced at Snoop. His assistant mouthed the word “Wow!”

  “Can you teach me that?” Snoop asked under his breath.

  It comes with a heavy price tag, Peter nearly told him.

  “Afraid not,” he said instead. “What else did Dr. Sierra say?”

  “He asked for your phone number. I told him it was private, and not something I could hand out. He got insistent, and I told him to have a nice day.”

  “He wouldn’t tell you what he wanted, huh?”

  “No. If you ask me, this guy is trouble.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “You’re a public person. People don’t just come banging on your door unannounced every day, do they? This guy Sierra is unhinged. Take my advice, and stay away from him.”

  “I’ve got another session with him tomorrow morning.”

  “Cancel it.”

  “I promised Liza.”

  “Excuse me, but aren’t you Peter Warlock the magician?” the college girl at the next table asked. “Why, yes, you are. I saw your show with my girlfriend last year. We had the best time. Will you do that trick for me again? I’m just dying to know how it’s done.”

  She held out her cup of latte, as if expecting Peter to make it boil again. Snoop pulled back in his chair. He was laughing under his breath and enjoying himself at his boss’s expense. Peter gave him the eye. It wasn’t funny, but Snoop kept laughing.

  “What’s your name?” Peter asked.

  “Sheri,” she replied.

  Peter borrowed one of Sheri’s rings and made it magically pass through a coffee stirrer. The ring was put into a paper napkin and made to disappear. Peter then asked Sheri to pick a packet of sugar from the dish on the table. Sheri chose a yellow packet of Splenda. Tearing the packet open, he produced the ring and slipped it on her finger. Sheri squealed with delight, and seemed to have forgotten about the boiling latte. He stole a peek inside her head just to be sure. The memory was on a back shelf, never to be used. He breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Is it safe?” Snoop asked under his breath.

  “Yes, it’s safe.”

  Peter’s Droid vibrated. Garrison calling. He took the call in the street.

  “We caught one,” the FBI agent said.

  28

  “You caught a shadow person,” Peter said breathlessly.

  “C
aught it dead in its tracks,” Garrison replied. “We spotted it coming out the Westchester train platform and watched it run across the main concourse. There were people in the concourse, so we waited until it ran upstairs into a hallway by the west-side exits. That’s when we hit the lights. You’d be amazed at how bright they can make them.”

  “How did it react?”

  “It screamed so loud I heard it upstairs. Then it turned to stone. We cordoned off the area, and are keeping people away. My boss wants it moved out of here. He’s telling me to take it to an empty hangar at Kennedy Airport so a bunch of pointy-headed scientists can stick needles in it. I didn’t like the sound of that, so I decided to call you. Is that a wise idea?”

  Peter panicked. Violating a ghost or spirit would upset the psychic balance of the universe. Innocent people would perish as a result, not just here, but in other parts of the world as well. “That’s a bad idea. Lots of people will die in ways that you cannot possibly imagine.”

  “How about if we just move it down the hall to a room?”

  “Don’t. It will burn you. The scars will never heal.”

  “Well, I can’t just leave it here. Too many people will see it.”

  “You want my help?”

  “I didn’t call to hear the sound of your voice. Of course I want your help.”

  It was not uncommon for a spirit to become trapped in this world. When that happened, psychics often rushed to the spirit’s aid, and built makeshift walls around it to hide it from peering eyes. Those walls, along with a few well-placed sawhorses, usually did the trick.

  “Build a wall around it using plywood and sheets of translucent plastic,” Peter said. “The plastic will keep the public from seeing it. At the same time, the plastic will allow the light to filter through, which will keep the shadow person frozen.”

  “I want you to take a look at this thing. You game?”

  “I’m game.”

  A cab crawled down the street looking for a fare and Peter waved the driver down. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Snoop inside the coffee shop, chatting away with Sheri. Snoop was doing a magic trick where it appeared he removed his thumb, and then made it whole. Sheri seemed absolutely enthralled. Peter waved good-bye before hopping into the backseat.

  “Whatever you do, don’t throw a blanket over it,” Peter said. “The darkness will allow it to become unfrozen, and it will escape.”

  The cabbie turned around in his seat, his dreadlocks bouncing on his shoulders. “You talking to me, mon?”

  “No, I wasn’t. Grand Central Terminal.”

  The cab lurched ahead. Peter went back to his conversation. “I would also advise you not to stare at it very long, either. It will give you nightmares that will last a long time.”

  “I’ve got enough of those,” Garrison said. “How soon can you get here?”

  “As fast as my cabbie can drive.”

  Peter put away his phone. So much for taking Liza out to the movies. It was stuff like this that ruined relationships, yet he wasn’t sure how to stop it.

  “You’re that magic guy I heard about,” the driver said, spinning the wheel.

  “That’s me,” Peter replied.

  “Are you the devil? I’ve talked to passengers who’ve seen your show. They say you do weird shit, like move things with your mind, and know what people are thinking. I’ve heard enough of them talking to know that something ain’t right.”

  Peter’s face burned. “It’s all a bunch of tricks.”

  “Is that so?” The cabbie took a corner at Canal and headed uptown. “I heard other drivers talking. Their passengers told them the same things. The stuff you do defies imagination and cannot be explained. If enough people believe something, it’s usually true. At least in my experience it is.”

  Peter tried to imagine the other cabbies the driver worked with. They probably all got together after their shift was over, and had a cold beer. Peter needed this Jamaican telling those drivers that he was an ordinary guy who was adept at fooling people, and that was all he was.

  The cab braked at a light. Peter said, “I want to show you something.” Taking a flesh-colored hollow thumb from his pants pocket, he passed it through the partition. “This handy little device is called a thumb tip. You can buy one in any magic store. They’ll actually help you mold it so it fits perfectly onto your thumb. Put it on.”

  It was not every day that a passenger was carrying a hollow thumb. The driver inspected it closely before slipping it onto his thumb. The plastic jarred with his dark skin.

  “Now move your hand around,” Peter said.

  The driver waved his hand, and the thumb tip did not fall off.

  “I use that to make small objects disappear,” Peter said.

  The driver passed the gimmick back. The light changed, and he hit the gas. “What’s all this supposed to mean?” he asked.

  “Do you honestly think that if I had supernatural powers that I’d carry that stupid thing around in my pocket all day long? Do you?”

  The driver burst into laughter. “No, I guess not.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You really can’t read minds?”

  “I wish.”

  “Or move things around by thought control?”

  “Give me a break, will you?”

  “You’re not in league with the Devil?”

  “No, but I once dated his sister.”

  The driver’s eyes danced in his mirror, and he slapped the wheel. He had been won over, but how many more were there like him out there? A hundred? A thousand? For all Peter knew, half the population of New York thought he had supernatural powers, and were whispering behind his back. Or maybe it was just this driver and the guys he hung out with. There was no way of knowing for sure. One day, his whole world might fall apart, and there was nothing he could do about it. It gave him an idea. Again he stuck his head through the partition.

  “Change of plans,” Peter said. “Take me to 320 East 62nd. I need to pick someone up.”

  29

  The driver parked at the curb and left the meter running. Peter bounded inside. He found Liza in the living room sitting cross-legged on the Flying Carpet illusion and floating three feet above the floor. Her dark hair tied in a ponytail, eyes tightly shut, she looked like a genie that had just popped out of a bottle.

  “Hey, beautiful.”

  Her eyes opened in surprise. “You startled me.”

  “Sorry. Grab your jacket. The FBI caught a shadow person running through Grand Central Terminal. Garrison wants me to have a look at it. I want you there with me.”

  Her face grew concerned. “But those things terrify me.”

  “And doctors’ offices scare me.”

  “This is different. Shadow people are dangerous.”

  “So is Dr. Sierra. I need you to come along. Please do this for me.”

  She chewed her lip. “What if I say no?”

  “I’ll cry.”

  “Be serious, Peter.”

  He touched Liza’s arm. “The reason we’re having problems is that I keep secrets from you. If I include you in the psychic part of my life, then there won’t be any secrets. You’ll know everything there is to know about me.”

  “Will you still go to see Sierra?”

  “There’s a problem with Sierra. He came to the theater this afternoon with another man and started banging on the door. Snoop caught him on a surveillance camera, and called him at a restaurant across the street. Sierra told Snoop he needed to see me. He made it sound like it was life or death. What kind of doctor does that?”

  “He came to the theater? That’s ridiculous.”

  “Now do you understand why I don’t trust him?”

  “Who was the other man?”

  “Snoop didn’t get his name. Snoop played the surveillance film on his phone for me. He was an older man and walked with a cane. I think it was Hunsinger.”

  “You think Sierra brought his colleague to the theater?”

 
“That’s what it looked like. It sort of scared me.”

  Liza shook her head in bewilderment. “His Web site sure read well. What if I pick another counselor?”

  “I’ll do whatever you want.”

  “Is that a promise? No backing out at the last minute.”

  “I promise.”

  “If I go with you now, will you protect me?”

  “With my life.”

  They kissed on the lips, sealing the deal. Liza hopped off the flying carpet and went to the hall closet, grabbing a cashmere scarf and gloves along with a leather jacket. As they headed out the door, Peter said, “There’s a cab waiting outside. Be careful what you say around the driver. He thinks I’m some kind of demon.”

  “Your secret’s safe with me,” she said.

  * * *

  They held hands during the cab ride to Grand Central. Liza looked happier than she had in a long time. All it had taken was a little compromise. He needed to remember that. Despite his powers, he couldn’t always have things his way.

  The cab dropped them off at the south entrance and they went inside. It was rush hour, with commuters dashing toward train platforms with the vigor of Olympic athletes. Garrison stood at the foot of a marble stairway leading to the second floor with a scowl on his face.

  “Sorry it took us so long to get here,” Peter said.

  “So am I,” Garrison replied. “My boss just left. I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news. My boss nixed your idea of keeping the shadow person under wraps. He thinks it’s too dangerous, and wants the thing moved.”

  “Didn’t you tell your boss what would happen? Didn’t you warn him?”

  “I tried. He doesn’t get the paranormal stuff, thinks it’s all a bunch of hooey.”

  Peter turned to Liza. “Lesson number one: No one ever listens to the psychic until it’s too late.”

  “What’s going to happen?” she asked.

  “Fire and brimstone with the earth tilting on its axis. Real wrath of God stuff.”

  “Be serious, Peter.”

  “I am being serious. You don’t mess with the spirits in any capacity.” He addressed Garrison. “Where is the shadow person right now?”