*****
Peter Strode appeared the moment Ken, Sara and Alex left Soren’s apartment to return to their homes.
As before, Strode suddenly stood in the middle of the living room, appearing out of thin air. Soren looked at him without surprise. He presumed that summoning Strode had enabled the shade to find him again.
“It’s done,” the shade said. “The dreamweaver is destroyed.”
“I hope it was long and painful,” Soren said.
The shade merely smiled. Soren found it disturbing.
“I don’t know how Ken will explain Richard’s body in the park, but I’ll let him figure that out,” Soren said.
“He will appear human now,” the shade replied.
Soren paused for a moment, uncertain what would happen next. The shade didn’t appear about to attack, but it was still a possibility. He decided to ask his questions anyway.
“If you’d successfully taken Alex, what would you have done with him?” he asked.
“Hidden him,” the shade replied. “No harm would have come to the boy.”
“Hidden him where?”
The shade didn’t reply.
“Why didn’t you haunt Richard Frye?”
“I did not know who the dreamweaver was,” the shade said. “I only knew when he was close to Alex. I could see the boy in my dreams, just as I saw Alastair.”
Soren wanted to ask how someone who was dead could still dream, but let it drop. It was the least surprising revelation of his day.
“So you showed up to take him away,” Soren said. “Then why did you show up when I appeared?”
“I was lingering in the park, hopeful I would see the boy again,” the shade replied. “I did not think it likely, but I had nowhere else to go.”
For a brief second, the shade looked sad. Soren thought about the afterlife he was living.
“I don’t know what would release you from this world,” Soren said. “But I talked to Ken. He’s going to call the Strode family in the morning and let them know the truth. He’ll tell them the police believe Richard was going to kidnap your grand-nephew, and you acted to save him.”
The shade’s face was impassive, but Soren thought he detected a look of relief in his silver eyes.
“If it helps, we’ll tell Alastair’s family as well,” Soren said. “Maybe it will at least bring them comfort to know their son’s killer was brought to justice.”
“I am grateful for this,” the shade said. “I was... incorrect in my assessment of you.”
“You were trying to save Alex,” Soren said. “That’s what matters.”
“The boy is special.”
“The dreamweaver told Sara that as well,” Soren said. “But can you tell me how? I don’t see anything obvious.”
“You will discover it one day,” the shade replied. “I just pray by then it is not too late.”
Soren frowned. He found the shade’s words vague, but they didn’t sound good.
“Too late for what?”
“To save yourself, to save her,” the shade said. “He is the only one who can bring you what you most desire.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I must leave now for the unknown,” Peter said. “Our time is running out.”
He stared at Soren with his unsettling eyes.
“I thank you for your help in letting me lay down this burden,” he continued. “And I offer you one word of warning.”
Soren almost wanted to stop him. He knew from bitter experience the dangers of fortune-telling. Knowing what was to come in the future was often more of a curse than a benefit. He didn’t want to know. But the shade spoke before he could say anything.
“The Council is hunting for you,” the shade said. “They are very close. And when they find you, they will make you pay for what you have done. They will make you suffer.”
The shade vanished as suddenly as he’d arrived, leaving Soren speechless. From any other person, the words would have felt like a threat, yet he sensed no hostility from the shade. It was simply a prophecy, one that portended dark days ahead. He didn’t know who “the Council” was or why it wanted him, but he knew what he had to answer for, and that was enough.
He couldn’t think about that now. Nor could he sleep, despite his exhaustion. He felt strangely wired and more connected with the world than he had in weeks, maybe years. The shade’s dire warning aside, he felt satisfied. Alex and Sara were safe and the bad guy had gotten his just desserts.
He sat down at his computer and opened his e-mail. He expected the usual spam, but instead found a message clearly addressed to him. It was a new case with a mysterious intruder, a man in distress, and disturbing signs of the supernatural. It sounded perfect.
Soren clicked the reply button and got to work.
THE END
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