Razor Dreams: The Seventh Jonathan Shade Novel

by Gary Jonas

  “You mean away from the island?”

  I nodded.

  “Only in dreams,” she said.

  “When did they start up?”

  “Hard to say. There was a solid batch of them right after Sandy.”

  “Okay, so the first round was in 1976, but Hurricane Sandy was in 2012. It's been three years and you're still having bad dreams?”

  “Not just then. There were other times too.”

  “Fill me in.”

  “What kind of case are you working on that has you interested in my dreams?”

  “A strange one.”

  “No shit.”

  “Humor me.”

  “Only because you're cute.”

  “I've been demoted from hot to cute?”

  She shrugged. “I'm not as buzzed.”

  “Right.”

  She took a deep breath, finished her chai, and set the cup down on the table. “You know, I didn't dream about the darkness when I was a kid. My brother and sister died, but I never dreamed about that night until the late nineties. Then the dreams went away for a few years and returned around 2000. After a few more years, they calmed down, but after Sandy, they came back. They faded after a few weeks, but last year they returned with a vengeance, and they've been getting worse. If I smoke a joint before bed, I don't dream about it, or maybe I just don't remember.”

  “Can you tell me about the dreams?”

  “Always the same. The darkness rises up in the corner and comes at me. It's like smoke but takes on a humanoid form, and it has long, nasty claws. It moves to slash me, and I wake up. Happens three or four times a night unless I get high. And from the look on your face, you knew this already.”

  “I had a similar dream last night,” I said.

  She raised an eyebrow. “That’s weird. Have you been to the island?”

  “No.”

  “You should go. They have tours now.”

  “Thanks to the Save Ellis Island organization.”

  “That's right.”

  I focused on her eyes. “Have you heard of a photographer named Stephen Wilkes?”

  “I don't think so.”

  “He visited Ellis Island in 1998 to take pictures of the forgotten hospital.”

  “That's about the time my dreams started.”

  “Yep. He published a book of those photos, and his work got the Save Ellis Island project started. Congress issued funds and the National Park Service oversaw it starting in the year 2000. Your dreams kicked up in 2012 when Hurricane Sandy did severe damage to the island. Then last October, the tours of Ellis Island started, and you've been having dreams ever since.”

  “You think my brother and sister woke something up, and it's been getting awakened and bothered more since then?”

  “I don't know but I aim to find out.”

  “I'm not a pothead,” she said.

  “I don't care if you toke it up a bit.”

  “I smoked a lot in college, but I only took it up again to get rid of the nightmares. I don't want you thinking I'm some kind of druggie.”

  “It's fine, Isabel.”

  “I don't know why I care what you think but I do. Are you four-twenty friendly?”

  “I don't smoke but I did try it at a party once. Made me paranoid, so I never did it again.”

  “It helps me sleep through the night. That's all. And I only took a few hits before coming out here because I was nervous.”

  “Why were you nervous?”

  “Strange man asks about my long-dead family? What if you were a stalker?”

  “Do I seem like a stalker?”

  “I might let you stalk me,” she said and winked.

  “I'll make a note.”

  “Make a more serious note because what if there is something on the island, and what if it is awake? Do you think all the traffic there every day might be bringing pieces of it ashore?”

  I considered that. Her brother and sister had died at Kings Park after visiting the island, so they could have brought it there. The way the place looked when Esther was there with me seemed very much like something from the 1970s, but Martin was old there, while he would have been much younger at that point.

  “I'll have to get back to you on that,” I said.

  “The reports from the hospital said Pedro and Juanita committed suicide.”

  “I don't have any evidence to the contrary. I'm a little curious why they ended up at a hospital so far from home, though.”

  She nodded. “They were probably going to see my uncle Max. He used to live near Kings Park. You know, I haven't been back to Ellis Island since that night. If you go to take the hard hat tour, can I go with you?”

  “It won't look the same, Isabel. They've refurbished everything.”

  “I can still show you where it was.”

  “The demon thing?”

  “I don't know if it was a demon or a ghost or what, but there was something there. And I feel like it's back and it's royally pissed and wants to kill me because I survived that night.”

  “That's survivor's guilt,” I said. “You lost your brother and sister, and you lived to tell the tale.”

  “I had years of therapy when I was younger. I got past that a long, long time ago. This is different. Every night, I feel it outside my windows. I feel it circling my apartment building. I feel it wanting to rip me to shreds. It's real and it's hungry and I'm scared.”

  “And you think touring the island will help?”

  She shrugged. “It's the first step in facing my fears.”

  “In that case, I'll buy us tickets.”

  “I can go tomorrow morning, but I have a three-to-midnight shift, so I have to be home by two to get ready for work. I'm a waitress at the Blue Heron Diner.”

  “Good food?”

  “It's okay.”

  “All right. I'll get tickets for tomorrow morning, and I'll make sure you're home in time to go to work.”

  “And you'll find a way to vanquish the demon?”

  “I've never met a demon I couldn't vanquish,” I said.

  “You've never met a demon, have you?”

  “A mere technicality.”

  “Give me your phone,” she said.

  I pulled my iPhone out of my pocket, unlocked it with my thumbprint, and handed it over. She typed in her cell number and handed it back. “Call me,” she said, letting her fingers linger on my hand for a moment longer than necessary.

  “I'll do that,” I said and tucked the phone away.

  I felt a little guilty using her. In a sense, I was reopening wounds from her childhood just so I'd have a way to try to win my friends back. On the positive side, though, if we could find and stop that dark entity, we could give her closure. I held on to that. Closure was always good. The result would make up for my ulterior motives. Right?

  CHAPTER SIX

  Rayna flagged me down when I entered the hotel. She sat in the bar, sipping a pink lemonade shooter with a fancy umbrella poking out of it. From the way she wove on her feet when she stood, I knew she'd had more than a few of them already.

  I entered the bar. “Good afternoon,” I said.

  She gestured to the chair beside her. “Join me?”

  I sat and did a cursory glance at the rest of the bar. A couple sat toward the back, staring intently into one another's eyes. Other than that, the place was empty. The bartender appeared from the kitchen as I turned to talk to Rayna. He gave me a nod. “Hello, sir. What can I get you?”

  “Jameson on the rocks,” I said.

  He nodded, poured my drink, and slid it across the bar to me. I tossed a twenty on the counter and he made it disappear without offering change.

  “If you need anything, just holler,” he said.

  “Will do.”

  He disappeared through the door to the kitchen. I sipped my whiskey and devoted my attention to Rayna. “Looks like you're feeling no pain,” I said.

  “Truer words,” she said.

  “I was hoping we
could have a real discussion, but I was also hoping we'd both be sober for it.”

  “I know,” she said. “But I have a few things I need to say, and I don't think I could say them without a few drinks.”

  I leaned back in my chair. “Brutal honesty, alcohol is thy benefactor.”

  I steeled myself because I knew she was going to tell me she wanted to move on because we'd grown apart, and though she'd loved me, now I was a different person, and it was her not me, blah blah blah.

  “We need to get clear on a few things,” she said.

  “Okay,” I said and set my drink on the bar.

  “First, I know you've moved on from our relationship.”

  “I lived a long life betw—”

  “Let me finish,” she said, pointing at me. “You keep quiet until I tell you to speak.”

  I nodded.

  “Good. I know you lived a full life. I know you lived through danger and death and old age.” She took a drink, closed her eyes for a moment. “Before I met you, the closest I came to danger as an adult was pulling a muscle while helping people get in shape.”

  “To be fair, you were in danger when I showed up. But I'm sorry I—”

  “Did I say you could speak?”

  I shook my head.

  “Then let me finish,” she said. “You were amazing when you dealt with the Marshall Clan. I fell for you. I would have done anything for you, so I was thrilled to go back in time and help deal with Winslow. I was scared too. And when Lincoln was murdered in front of me, well, something broke inside me.”

  “I'm sorry,” I said. I couldn't help speaking. I wanted to take it all back, keep her safe. But if I hadn't taken her along, she'd be dead now.

  “It took me a long time to process what happened.”

  I nodded.

  “I'd seen death before when I was a little girl. In the other world, people died violent deaths all the time. Even in this world, my parents were murdered, but Lincoln was different. It was the first time I saw it happen up close and personal. Penick could have pointed that gun at me, pulled the trigger, and I'd be dead right now too.”

  “But he didn't,” I said.

  “No shit, Sherlock. But he could have. Do you know how that made me feel?”

  “Small? Lost? Scared?”

  “Alive,” she said and put her hand on my shoulder in the exaggerated way drunks have. “And when he threatened me again, I was scared, sure, but I've never felt so alive. I know you want me to leave. I know you don't think I can contribute. But I don't want to go. I want to stay here with you, whether or not we're lovers, and I want to train with Kelly, and I want to risk life and limb to help people because having tasted danger, I don't ever want to live without it.”

  “That's not what I expected you to say.”

  “I can help with your cases, Jonathan. You don't even have to pay me.”

  “You don't have any money here, Rayna.”

  “Oh. Right. I forgot. Then pay me enough to survive, and I'll do anything. Until I get a feel for how dangerous situations might be, you can warn me and I can stoke my fire. I have excellent control over it. I can breathe bigger flames, and I can tone down to simply cauterize a wound. I may be afraid, but I will always face that fear because only in those moments can we truly appreciate life.”

  “Slow down. You don't have to talk so loud. I'm right here.”

  “Sorry,” she said. “I'm a little tipsy.”

  “I noticed. You can appreciate life in every moment.”

  “Yeah, yeah, but it's not the same. I don't want to live a long, boring life. I want to live a short, exciting life. No danger is too great. That said, if we get through in one piece, I will want to jump your bones. Something about danger is a major turn-on.”

  The excitement in her eyes and the smile on her face surprised me. And as I'd been thinking about how I hadn't had sex since the 1920s, I got about half-chubbed at the thought of taking her back to my room. But she was drunk, and I had to be a better man than that.

  “You're welcome to be part of the team,” I said. “But.” I held up a finger.

  “But what?”

  “I don't want you taking unnecessary risks just for the thrill of it.”

  “As long as there are necessary risks, I can handle that.”

  “I'm serious, Rayna. People who get off on danger often seek it out and start shit when they could have avoided it. We have a word for that sort of thing.”

  “What's that?”

  “Stupid.”

  “Kelly lives for death and mayhem.”

  “Kelly's feeling is that if someone is an enemy, you kill them. That way they can't come at you again.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “It's also murder. Before you take someone's life, you need to understand that no matter how bad you think that person is, somebody loves him or her. That man or woman is someone's husband, wife, friend, father, mother, son, daughter. You not only end that person's life. You upset the balance and rip out the hearts of everyone who knows and loves him.”

  “Or her.”

  “Yes.”

  “I understand all that, and I don’t want to kill anyone. That’s Kelly’s thing. But if it's a monster, I can help. Right?”

  “Like a destroyer,” I said referring to an animal from her world known as a bolon. I'd killed several of them.

  She shook her head. “Well, not a destroyer because they're impervious to fire. And not a dragon for the same reason, but you know what I mean.”

  “If Frankenstein's monster shows up, he's all yours.”

  “Deal.” She stuck out her hand.

  I shook it.

  “When can I start?” she asked.

  “Check with Kelly for the training. As for the rest, you can start immediately. I have a case now.”

  “Tell me.”

  I filled her in on what had happened so far, but I made it sound like there was more to it. That the dark entity was more dangerous than it seemed. People could die. Never mind that the darkness was probably nothing more than a ghost and wouldn't be hard to dispatch. It needed to seem more substantial, more of a real threat. Otherwise, even Rayna would walk away.

  “So,” I said at last, “I think we should go back to the abandoned hospital.”

  “You don't want to tour the island?”

  “I will but that's for tomorrow morning. Tonight I want all of us to go to Kings Park to see if we can get through that chained door to see what's hiding back there.”

  Rayna smiled. “Danger! I'm in.”

  “And you need to switch to coffee so you can sober up before then.”

  She frowned. “I can face danger better if I'm drunk.”

  “Famous last words,” I said.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  We walked down the hall at Kings Park armed to the teeth and ready for battle. I held my Glock in front of me. Smoke escaped from Rayna's nostrils as she racked a round into the chamber of her sawed-off shotgun. She was mostly sober now, and with fire stoked and gun loaded, she was good to go. Kelly held her katana poised to slice and dice at will. Esther walked behind me, keeping herself unseen.

  Dr. Anderson stood with Martin the janitor in front of the chained door, while Stuart and a few patients mingled in the corridor.

  I pointed my gun at the ceiling and pulled the trigger. The gunshot echoed in the odd little wing of the hospital that might or might not exist.

  “Everyone remain calm, and nobody gets hurt,” I said.

  Stuart stood in the center of the hallway when we stormed in. His eyes widened when I fired into the ceiling, and a grin spread across his face. He bolted to the side, pressed his back against the wall, and started clapping with glee.

  “You're here to save us!” he said, dancing from foot to foot as though he were in desperate need of a restroom. “I'm so ready to get out of here!”

  “Take it down a notch, Stuart,” I said.

  The other patients scattered, bolting for the safety of their roo
ms. Dr. Anderson staggered back against the chained door, her mouth open in a silent scream. She waved her arms in front of her.

  Martin the janitor looked bored. He set his dust mop on the floor, turned the handle to a forty-five degree angle, and stomped hard on it toward the base. It snapped and he whipped the handle up as a weapon now.

  We didn't slow down. We kept striding down the hall on our mission.

  “Stop right there,” Martin said, brandishing the stick. He twirled it like he'd had plenty of training with a staff. “I can't let you do this.”

  “You don't have a choice.”

  “You got that right, but you do have a choice. Don't you do this.”

  “Kelly?” I said.

  Kelly strode down the hall faster than the rest of us.

  “I want to take him,” Rayna said. “My fire is ready, and I have a gun.”

  “Kelly's got this.”

  Martin spun the handle. “You don't know what you're doing.”

  “Sure I do,” Kelly said.

  Martin attacked. Kelly sliced the stick in two with her sword, spun, and slashed Martin across the chest. I'd told her in advance not to kill him unless it was necessary, but evidently her idea of what that meant was miles away from mine.

  As the blade sliced through his shirt, dark smoke poured out of the wound, and Martin's clothing dropped to the floor along with the two pieces of his weapon. The broken weapon clattered on the tiles and rolled to opposite sides of the hallway. Kelly pushed her sword to Dr. Anderson's throat.

  “Step aside,” Kelly said.

  The smoke from Martin's former body swirled around the lights on the ceiling and drifted down to coalesce into a roughly humanoid shape.

  “Kelly!” Esther yelled, making herself visible and audible.

  The smoke engulfed Kelly. She did a shoulder roll to the side, escaping it for a moment, but it raced in her direction again.

  “It's just smoke,” Kelly said. “Smells like sulfur but it's nothing.” She whipped her sword around in a figure eight and dissipated the smoke briefly. It re-formed and rushed her again. She danced to the side, flipped through it, and landed ready for battle even though there was nothing solid to strike.

  “It could be dangerous to your lungs,” Rayna said, steam escaping her lips. She raced over to help.