Shadow People

by Bevill, C. L.

The witch had called him on the cell phone Anthony had provided her with. Her words were brief. They had found the thief, but she had managed to elude them once again. The seatco was insistent upon her scent and was following it to the east.

  “If she gets out of its range,” Anthony said slowly, “then…”

  Merri’s voice came through the line, although Anthony knew that it was no longer Merri’s voice, he still felt a shiver of reaction for the woman that the witch had once been. “Then we won’t be able to find her. We know her name now. She stole a car from an apartment building, and the individual whose car was stolen was most insistent about who had taken his vehicle.” She paused. “He didn’t want to give us her last name. But the seatco was certain of her apartment’s location. There was little to be had there. The thief is clever and hides her skills where the wary cannot ferret them out. But her name is Quick. Penelope Quick.”

  “Penelope Quick,” Anthony repeated thoughtfully. “Follow the seatco where it will lead you. Perhaps we can end it this evening after all. If not, I have someone to visit this night.”

  The witch didn’t answer. Anthony listened to the tone in his ear, thinking about Merri Littlesoldier. Once she had been ambitious and too taken with her own beauty. Certain that she had married the brother with the most potential for money and power, she quickly discovered that was not enough for her personal tastes. The brother had been appalled with her obvious flaws and cast her out. Like the thing of Native American lore, she had cursed him.

  As a consequence Merri had learned that the black magicks of the Enumclaw people, long buried in oral legends only told on the brightest days by those who were secure with their own powers, were not to be reckoned with by amateurs. She had practiced with those who were no longer welcome members of the tribe and with those who hid their allegiance to the dark arts in the shadows of their little bungalows. She had become not someone else, but something else.

  He put his phone down on the kitchen counter and removed the folded sheet of paper from his pocket. With long fingers he unfolded the document and stared at it. The security company he’d used had two men come to deliver the safes. Anthony had the wall already broken down for their installation. The chances, he felt certain, were good that one of those two workmen were the ones to tell the thief where to find the treasures of this house. After all, they hadn’t known about the backup protection that Anthony had provided. One thief had already been eliminated a month or so before.

  Anthony hadn’t been expecting another thief so soon. He had, however, been expecting Will to show up on his doorstep, ready to fight a battle of good versus evil, and damn the soul of the man who lost.

  The paperwork on the safes had the full names of both workmen on it. One of them had conveniently given Anthony a business card with home and work numbers on it. After all, the security company wanted their customers to be assured of their products’ reliability. How very cooperative, Anthony thought. With one finger he punched in the number of one Jobe Cooper and was very pleased when the man answered on the second ring.

  *

  Penelope was flipping the wallet back and forth between her hands when the midnight-colored Chevy Suburban drove into the parking lot of Cedars on the Ridge. Incredulously, she stuffed the wallet into her pocket and held her hand on the keys in the ignition of the car. The Suburban trolled the parking lot like a great black monster seeking out some hors d’oeuvres.

  Finally it stopped in front of the front entrance to Cedars and idled there for a moment. Penelope had a faint impression that someone was inside talking about what way would be best to disembowel her still-steaming corpse. Then a weak thought came to her. Of course, this would be the right time for Freddy to pull up in his Caddy with Mama.

  Fortunately Freddy and his Christmas bulb blue Caddy did not appear.

  The Suburban door opened and Penelope flinched. A man in his fifties, wearing a Cowboys T-Shirt and Bermuda shorts got out and crossed around the front of the large vehicle. He didn’t look like a thing. He didn’t even have glow in the dark eyes. When he reached the opposite side of the car, he opened the door and assisted an elderly woman out. They talked animatedly to each other as he escorted her into the building. Several minutes later, the man reappeared alone and got back into the Suburban, driving off a moment later.

  Penelope sighed theatrically. It hadn’t even been the correct Suburban.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Saturday, July 5th

  To crash (slang, origin probably 18th century England) - to kill someone

  That’s what a man gets for being all business-like, Jobe Cooper thought ungraciously and more than a bit sullenly. Like the stand-up dude I am, I give a customer my business card and the next thing I know he’s giving me a call at home, after 10 PM and in the middle of some very good loving from my woman.

  Jobe parked his car on Durfrene Row in front of the Victorian Gothic house that he remembered very well. It was the kind of house that reminded him uncomfortably of the Addams family house from that old TV show. Emergency, my round brown bubble butt. An emergency is when someone’s about to die, not when he can’t get the frigging safe open, and he needs some paperwork. Who needs paperwork on a Saturday night?

  Unfolding his six feet two inches out of the undersized Kia Spectra, Jobe scanned the street bitterly. And that stupid little shit, Jeremy. Did he do the house after I told him that they not the type to change the combination, that they ain’t got no security alarm to tip off the police? And then did he give me my cut? Hell, no. The turd slipped off somewhere. Ain’t no one heard from him. Not me. Not my brother. Not no one.

  Jobe waved his hands out expressively as if he were truly talking to himself out loud. It was a habit with him when he was agitated. See. Here I am. In front of this place again. Place gives me the creeps, and I gots to be here at night. Damn it. Someone owes me something. He slammed the door shut on the Kia and winced when the glass in the windows rattled violently.

  He meandered reluctantly up the walkway, thinking the whole time about the nice warm bed and the even warmer woman he’d left there. Of course, she’d turned colder than a Frosty from Wendy’s when he’d had to go, cursing at the back of his head about leaving her in the lurch. Jobe wondered if there was a flower shop still open.

  Jobe lifted an arm and slammed the large brass door knockers. They were in the shape of a lion’s head, and the lion was snarling outward as if warning people away from this particular house. It made Jobe frown suddenly. I hate this place. It gives me the heebie-jeebies.

  The door opened almost immediately, and Jobe took an involuntary step backwards. Inside was the man he’d met before. The Indian dude, Jobe called him in his mind. This was the one who wouldn’t listen to his advice about a security system. Dude deserves what’s coming to him. When Jeremy comes calling with his cute little thief girlfriend, Dude ain’t gonna have a pot left to piss in. And I’m getting twenty percent. Or maybe thirty on account of how J’s waited so long. Better than my stupid commission and ain’t no chance it’ll get back to me.

  In the murkiness of late evening and mellow yellow light from behind silhouetting the man’s form, Anthony Littlesoldier was a shadowy and malevolently still form to Jobe. Only the blue-black of his long hair, and the trim strong shape revealed his identity.

  “Mr. Littlesoldier,” Jobe said nervously when the other man didn’t speak straight away. “I came right away. About your safe. You know.”

  Anthony stepped backwards and let his cold face be exposed in the foyer light. Jobe almost turned around and scuttled back to his car despite the fact that the other man was almost a half a foot shorter and a good forty pounds lighter. Then Anthony waved him in with a chilling smile. Jobe could tell that the man was annoyed, but he foolishly attributed that to the fact that he couldn’t get his safe open when he really needed something inside.

  “I’ll-uh-fix you up right now,” Jobe added anxiously. “Sometimes those combos just need a little finessing. I got one at
work and sometimes it’s a right bitch. One day I can open her right up. Then it takes me ten tries. And a man ain’t patient when it comes to deals like that.”

  Finally Anthony said something. “I understand completely about a lack of patience, Mr. Cooper. You remember where the basement is located?”

  “Sure, I do, Mr. Littlesoldier. Right down the hall, through the pantry door.”

  *

  Ten minutes after the first Chevy Suburban disappeared, heading down the street toward the Interstate, the second dark-colored Suburban appeared. It stopped in the same place as the first, and Penelope forced the lump down her throat. This time it wasn’t someone dropping off their aged relative. It was them.

  The feeling of dread was a ripple of sensation zipping alarmingly down the tip of Penelope’s spine, alerting all senses that something bad was about to happen. Them. Them. Them. The one in the mask and the woman and perhaps some of those things in the dark clothing with the red eyes.

  They let the Suburban idle for a minute, and the rear passenger door finally opened with a clank and a shudder. The thing with the mask unfolded its massive shape out of the vehicle. Even one of the biggest SUV’s around didn’t seem large enough for the huge form. The driver’s door opened, and the woman called Merri appeared, emerging from the SUV as if she were frostily determining the lay of the land. The seatco paused beside the Suburban, and its immense masked head swiveled slowly around until it was pointed full on at Penelope’s position as she sat in the ‘Bird in the shadows of the oak trees.

  It was at that moment that Penelope knew that Will was right. She didn’t know his motives. She didn’t know what he wanted to do with the gemstone or that he was any better than his counterparts. She didn’t know why he would be pitted against the woman pictured so lovingly with him in the photograph. And she didn’t know what the second man who so closely resembled Will had to do with anything, if, in fact, he did have to do with anything. However, she did know that she had a choice between the ones out there who wanted to kill her and the one who wanted to help her. Or at the very least, Will hadn’t immediately tried to murder her upon their first contact.

  For one of the first times in her short existence Penelope realized that she needed help. Another one of Jacob Quick’s often quoted sayings came to her, “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” At the time, Penelope hadn’t realized that Jacob had been quoting Shakespeare or who Horatio was, but she did know that Horatio’s philosophy was rather limited. As it turned out, so was hers. Monsters and things that went bump in the night truly walked the Earth, and they were ever so after her.

  Merri’s numbing countenance came around to look at the very spot where Penelope was cringing below the level of the windshield. The oddly mismatched pair stared at her as if she were as visible as the stars above them. They knew she was there.

  Penelope’s hand clutched convulsively at the keys in the ignition. How can I get away from these freaks? Just give them the diamond, the inner voice answered. Maybe they’ll change their minds, maybe if you throw it at them and run like hell. Except one little problem. I hid the gemstone along with the other jewelry. It ain’t anywhere near me.

  The seatco took a lurching step forward, its head jerking around as it sniffed her out. A smile that made Penelope’s eyes go wide with apprehension crossed Merri’s lovely face. The thing that was the woman was chillingly overjoyed at finding Penelope again. It gave her a rash of goose bumps that barreled down her back.

  Just as Penelope’s hand twitched convulsively on the keys, the golf cart with the lone security guard came puttering around the corner. The comic look on his young face as he saw the abnormally divergent pair standing beside the Suburban was more than telling. He couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing and wasn’t sure how it would ever go into a report. She saw the guard hesitate, and then the cart came to a sputtering halt just in front of the large SUV, fully illuminated with the meager cart’s headlights.

  Merri gave the direction that she knew Penelope was hiding in a last lingering look and then turned to look at the security officer. Penelope had met the young man on several occasions. His name was Frank. He had the swing shift and would go off after midnight, returning to his wife and his twelve-month-old daughter, Tabitha.

  Tabitha, Penelope recalled dismally, is just starting to walk. As a matter of fact, Frank complains all the time about how Tabitha is going to be a track star at the rate she’s going. Penelope swallowed and forced an unpleasant lump of something uncomfortable down.

  Penelope’s hand dropped away from the keys in the ignition of the ‘Bird. Oh, hell, what am I going to do? She didn’t really know the answer, but the ‘Bird’s door clunked open all the same. Merri’s gaze abruptly turned toward Penelope again, and Penelope knew that she was completely revealed in the solitary burning light of the ‘Bird’s interior.

  Stepping out of the car, Penelope cleared her throat loudly. The parking lot was strangely quiet. Not even the whisper of a cricket or the distant sound of a plane seemed to cut through the silence of the moment. She took a second and looked across the four rows of slots at the three beings standing there. Frank appeared as unsure as a newborn foal, his long legs gangly and on the verge of shaking. He didn’t know who to look at, the very weird people next to the Chevy or Penelope Quick, who had just stepped out of an antique Thunderbird. The thing in the mask took another faltering step forward as it narrowed onto Penelope’s unique scent. Merri remained as still as night, that triumphantly cold smile continuing to sit on her lovely face.

  A growling noise began to emit from one of them, and Penelope wasn’t shocked to find it was the seatco that was letting it go. It knew she was there and that she wasn’t going away. It took another step, finding its stride and then another one. Penelope’s knees trembled.

  “Hey!” Frank protested. He took a step himself, moving to cut off the seatco, not knowing exactly what he was doing but only having a bare realization that something was terribly wrong. Merri walked forward, that same eerie expression of placidity and unnerving victory on her face. The seatco paused as it comprehended that something new presented a threat. Its head jerked minutely toward Frank.

  Penelope frowned. She stepped out from the protection of the door and yelled, “Over here! You big, dumb walking piece of crap! I don’t give a diddly-squat if you are some kind of thing from a religion I don’t recognize! But you’re going to come after me! Only me.” The last she added in a hoarse whisper as a pair of differently colored eyes settled its disconcerting gaze upon her again. The seatco let out another insistent growl, renewing its path toward her.

  Merri ignored both of them and said to Frank, “You could live, if you want to.” The icy statement was carried across to Penelope, and she forced herself to swallow again.

  Penelope saw Frank pull out his baton in response. “I don’t know what the hell you want here, lady,” he said vehemently, “but Cedars on the Ridge is private property, and unless you’ve got a pass that says you’re a legitimate visitor, then you and your big friend over there are going to have to leave.” He pointed helpfully toward the main road with the baton.

  The seatco was gathering speed as it headed unerringly toward Penelope. She didn’t look away as she called loudly, “Frank! Just go inside and call the cops! Just do it!”

  Frank glanced uncertainly toward Penelope. He had recognized her, but what she was saying didn’t make sense. She could see the wheels turning behind his confused gaze, and he was beginning to think that he was dealing with three extremely crazed individuals.

  “For God’s sake, Frank!” Penelope tried again frantically. “Think of your daughter!”

  Merri added, “Yes, Frank, think of your daughter.”

  Frank’s mouth went wide open in shock. “Screw you, lady,” he said to Merri. “You don’t know shit about me and—” Merri closed the gap between them, reaching out with lightning-swift hands to catch him soundly ar
ound his neck. It didn’t matter that he was a foot taller than she was and twice as broad in the shoulders. He made a choking noise as she began to throttle him. The hand with the baton came up to beat her off, but his fingers seemed to become useless. The baton went flying off into the night and loudly hit the fender of a minivan.

  Penelope glimpsed the event and ignored it as the seatco began to gather speed, hurtling like an unstoppable juggernaut toward her. She jumped back into the ‘Bird and turned the key in the ignition. The car roared to life as she stomped on the gas pedal. Then she let the transmission slip into drive and eight cylinders caused the engine to scream. One hand went to the headlights knob and pulled it out, allowing the two powerful beams to show everything.

  The seatco was twenty feet in front of her and coming on strong. Penelope thought that it could very well come right through the front windshield. But she didn’t intend on letting it do any such thing. Tires ripped over the asphalt and guided Penelope where she wanted the ‘Bird to go. For one incongruent second Penelope knew that Sammy’s bragging about how the T-Bird could go from zero to sixty in five seconds wasn’t all conceited and macho car bravado. The engine was indeed powerful enough to fly a small plane and race successfully against some of the present-day European speed-demons that shot through the night on midnight runs.

  There was a massive thump and a crunch of metal as it met the too big form of the thing that had systematically frightened Penelope for each waking hour of the last day. Its huge head slammed into the hood and created a crater of dinosaurian proportions. The top of the engine wasn’t happy with the situation, and immediately, a shrill wail came from under the hood.

  The colorful kachina mask cracked apart upon contact with the hood, and one half flew up and smashed into the windshield, causing a crack that split the glass almost in two. Penelope’s foot slipped off the gas as she saw what was under the mask. The blue eye of a man glared defiantly at her. He had reddish-colored skin that had patches of eczema all over the cheek and forehead with skin flaking off in great pieces. It only took a moment before she saw the reddish skin fading into the other side of the mask where it became black and reminiscent of ongoing decay, disappearing under the clay. As well, through a hole, the other brown eye glowered at her as it regarded her dourly over the hood of the car.