by Paul Seiple
“It hurts,” Sara said.
Remi reached for Sara, but the little girl faded into the darkness.
“Take my hand,” Remi said.
Sara reached aimlessly from the abyss. “I can’t find you.”
Remi closed her eyes and slowed her breathing. She let the darkness swallow her. A small orb with a glowing green pulse appeared between Remi and Sara. It gave just enough light for Sara to find Remi. She took her hand. Remi pulled them from the shadow.
“What was that?” Sara asked.
“A light in the darkness,” Remi said.
The shadow swirled against the wall like a projection of a hurricane. It wasn’t a shadow in the sense Remi was familiar with. This was a portal. But to where.
“Did you make that light?” Sara asked.
Remi ignored her. “You’ve never been in the shadow before?”
“No. What is it?” Sara asked.
“It looks to be a portal,” Remi said.
“To where?” Sara asked.
“I don’t know yet.”
Remi moved toward the shadow. A stinging mist clung to her flesh. The temperature fell to the point gooseflesh appeared on her arms. She shivered.
“What are you doing?” Sara asked.
Remi reached into the shadow. It disappeared. She turned to Sara. “Can you make it come back?”
“I can try.”
Sara closed her eyes. The shadow appeared in front of her.
“What have we told you about keeping secrets?”
The voice penetrated Sara’s body and rattled her bones. She opened her eyes and screamed. A drop of blood trickled from her nose and rested above her top lip.
“What happened?” Remi asked as she dropped to her knees and held Sara.
The little girl was ice cold. Remi ran her hands up and down Sara’s arms, trying to warm her up.
“Sara,” Norma said, running into the room. She couldn’t see what was happening. She only saw Remi and Sara sitting on the couch.
“It spoke to me. It warned me about keeping secrets,” Sara said.
“What spoke to you? What the hell is happening?” Norma asked.
The room darkened again, as if clouds were shading the sun. The temperature fell fast, but Norma felt her skin burn. Rage fueled her. She didn’t know why.
“What the fuck are you doing to my daughter?” The question roared from Norma’s mouth, but it surprised her.
“She’s fine, Norma,” Remi said.
“Fine, my ass,” Norma said.
“Mom,” Charlie said from the top of the stairs.
“Go back to your room, Charlie. This isn’t about you,” Norma said.
“Mom, I’m fine,” Sara said.
A shadow grew behind Norma. She grabbed a lamp and jerked the cord free from an outlet. Sparks lit the silhouette of the shadow. Norma tightened her grip on the base of the lamp. Her pupils turned from green to an empty black.
“What’s wrong with her?” Sara asked.
Remi stood in front of Sara. “Norma, put the lamp down.”
“I’m sick of you people feeding her with this paranormal bullshit. My daughter is normal. I want her to be normal,” Norma said. She cocked the lamp back and started toward Remi.
“No,” Sara said, stepping in front of Remi.
Norma stopped and dropped the lamp. It shattered around her feet. “What?”
“You’re not yourself right now, Norma,” Remi said.
Norma slowly looked away from the broken lamp and turned her attention to Remi. “Don’t you dare tell me who I am, you bitch.”
The shadow hovered behind Norma.
“Mom,” Sara said.
“Go to your room, Sara,” Norma said.
Remi stepped back. A ball of light appeared near her chest. It held a greenish glow and took the shape of a woman.
“I said go to your room, Sara,” Norma said.
She stepped toward her daughter. The light forced itself into Norma. She fell back against the arm of the couch and slumped to the floor.
“Mom,” Charlie said, running down the stairs.
Sara dropped beside her mother and clutched her hand. The light left Norma’s body and hovered in front of Remi.
“What did you do to my mom?” Charlie asked.
“She’s not hurt. She’s sleeping,” Remi said.
The shadow moved against the wall and resembled a portal again. The greenish light mirrored Remi.
“What the heck is going on?” Charlie asked.
“What is it?” Remi asked.
“How the heck am I supposed to know? I don’t want to see these things,” Charlie said.
“A dark elemental.”
The words came from the greenish light.
“Is it a shadow demon?” Remi asked.
“Who are you talking to?” Charlie asked.
Sara stood above her Norma. “Aura.”
“What? What’s happening here? Wake my mom up,” Charlie said.
“Aura is made of my energy,” Remi said.
“Is it invisible? I see nothing,” Charlie said.
“Aura is a female,” Sara said. “And I see her just fine.”
“Don and Mason are in trouble,” Aura said. “They have no protection against this elemental. They do not know what they’re about to face. You must contact them.”
Ten
Derek tapped the steering wheel of his Jeep as he watched the front door. He felt of a tinge of guilt for leaving Sam behind, but he was taking too long.
“I have to go get him, don’t I?” Derek asked himself. He took a deep breath and gripped the wheel. Just as he was about the exit the Jeep, Sam came down the front stairs and opened the passenger door.
“Very friend-like of you, Gallagher. You just left the old man to the wolves in there,” Sam said.
“I thought you were right behind me. What took you so long?” Derek asked.
“I had to pee,” Sam said.
“You couldn’t hold it? There’s a demon in the house and you have to stop to pee?”
“It was that or pee in your car. My bladder isn’t what it used to be. I thought I was doing you a favor. That’s what I get for being nice to you,” Sam said.
“Whatever. Let’s get out of here,” Derek said. He put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway. He slammed on the brakes.
“What is it? Don’t tell me you see one of those damn demon children,” Sam said.
“You locked the door, didn’t you?” Derek asked.
“No. Why would I?” Sam asked.
“Sam, when you leave a house, you lock the door,” Derek said.
“It’s your house. I thought you’d lock the door,” Sam said.
“You were the last one out,” Derek said.
“And that’ll teach you to leave your friends behind,” Sam said.
Derek put the car in park and stared at Sam.
“What? We have to get out of here before something hitches a ride,” Sam said.
“I have to lock the door,” Derek said.
He didn’t wait for Sam to argue. Derek left the car and headed toward the front porch. A mist slapped his body as he hit the bottom step. The air circulating around the porch was much more humid than in the yard.
“All right. I’m going to lock it and get the hell out of here,” Derek said, fumbling for his keys. He turned the knob. The door was locked. Derek glanced back at the car. Sam waved to him.
“Son-of-a-bitch,” Derek said.
Derek stared straight ahead, never taking his eyes away from the highway. Classic rock cut the tension from silence. Molly Hatchet sang about “traveling down the road and flirting with disaster.”
Sam laughed. “Fitting song, given the circumstances, right?”
Derek didn’t answer.
“Come on, Derek. It was a joke.”
“A joke? Really? You could have gotten me killed,” Derek said.
“You’re being a little dramatic,” Sam said.
“Oh… I am? Says the man who limped down the hallway, crying like a little kid,” Derek said.
“Listen, I’m sorry, OK? It was a crappy thing to do. I wouldn’t have done it if I thought you were in danger. Whatever that was stayed in the house,” Sam said.
The radio changed to another station. Classical music replaced southern rock.
“Did you do that?” Sam asked.
“You know I didn’t. My hands never left the steering wheel,” Derek said.
Sam switched the station back to classic rock. Eddie Money sang about needing some water because he shot a man on the Mexican border. Sam eased back into the seat.
“So, we’re going to pretend that didn’t happen?” Derek said.
“Pretend what didn’t happen?” Sam asked.
The radio switched back to classical music.
“That,” Derek said.
“Maybe there’s a short in your radio,” Sam said.
The volume grew louder. Sam pawed at the radio and turned it off. Cold air blew through the vents. Sam shivered. The steering wheel jerked to the left. Derek swerved right, barely avoiding a concrete barrier separating the lanes of traffic.
“Eyes on the road,” Sam said.
“I’m watching the road. I didn’t do that,” Derek said.
The radio turned back on with no assistance. This time it was a pop song with hints of new wave. The singer spoke of swimming through lullabies and choking on alibis.
“What the hell it this?” Sam asked.
It was almost as if the singer answered him with the words, “I’m Mr. Brightside.”
“Wait… the case we were talking about before all this happened? What was the victim’s name?” Derek asked.
Sam didn’t answer immediately. He stared at the radio as if he was hoping for more answers. The song continued about a woman touching a man’s chest while he takes off her dress.
“Sam? The case? Wasn’t the guy’s name Brightside?” Derek asked.
The chorus of the song played again. The singer said, “I’m Mr. Brightside.”
“Brightside,” Sam said.
“This isn’t those demon kids again. Brightside is trying to help us solve his murder,” Derek said.
“You’re insane. Your house is demon infested. This is just a song on the radio,” Sam said.
“A song on a radio that you turned off, and it turned itself back on. Not to mention, it’s playing a song titled 'Mr. Brightside' which just happens to be the name of an unsolved murder you worked,” Derek said.
“Just a coincidence. This is attached to you somehow,” Sam said.
“You’re unbelievable. This isn’t a coincidence. A murdered man is trying to get your attention,” Derek said.
“Do you hear how silly you sound?” Sam asked.
“As silly as a demon kid trying to play catch with you?” Derek asked.
Eleven
“How’s Mackenzie?” Noah asked a nurse as she passed by the small waiting area.
“Who?”
“Karen Mackenzie. She’s the detective with the gunshot wound,” Noah said.
“I’m sorry. I work in pediatrics,” the nurse said. “I can try to find out something for you.”
Noah nodded.
“Noah? Thank God, you’re not hurt,” Jaime said, wrapping her arms around him.
“I’m fine, but Mackenzie and Alvarez were hit,” Noah said. “It was the strangest thing. He was nice, and then he just started shooting at us.”
“Who?” Jaime asked.
“A homeless man. We went to uptown looking for a possible witness to the explosion. This guy, Dave, led us to where Angus Thornberry was supposedly hanging out. We get there, Thornberry was dead. Dave snatches Alvarez’s gun and starts picking us off. I had no choice but to shoot him. I swear, it was like Dave had a hate switch that something flicked.”
“How so?” Jaime asked.
“One minute, he was helping us find Thornberry. And the next, he screamed something about hating cops and shot Alvarez and Mackenzie."
“He did that unprovoked?” Jaime asked.
“Yeah, I mean, he didn’t care for us, but not to the point he would ambush us like that.”
“Maybe he thought you had something to do with Thornberry’s death. How did he die?” Jaime asked.
“I’m not sure. Maybe alcohol poisoning or an overdose,” Noah said. “Alvarez didn’t make it.”
“I’m so sorry, Noah.”
“Mackenzie took a bullet in the leg, but…”
Noah cut his words short when the nurse reappeared. He stood up. The nurse smiled.
“Karen Mackenzie is in recovery. She’s on the second floor, room 215. Doctor Adams says you can see her, but no questions about the shooting. She doesn’t need the stress right now.”
Karen Mackenzie had been a detective for 15 years. Her mother was a retired detective. Her grandfather was a sheriff of the small North Carolina town. She had known many cops throughout her life. Out of all of them, Mackenzie was the only one to take a bullet.
She bounced her attention from an episode of The Andy Griffith Show and her bad luck. It hadn’t sat in that she wasn’t the only cop she knew who took a bullet. The grief of Alvarez’s death hadn’t hit her yet.
“How are you feeling?”
Mackenzie muted the television and glared at Noah for a few seconds.
“Right. Dumb question,” Noah said.
“I wouldn’t expect anything else from such a pretty man,” Mackenzie said.
“Looks like the bullet missed your sarcasm,” Noah said, taking Mackenzie’s hand.
“Sorry, I couldn’t resist. You tossed that softball. I’m in a lot of pain, but the nurse said the meds will take care of that soon,” Mackenzie said. “Jaime? What are you doing back in town?”
“I got back last week,” Jaime said, stepping out from behind Noah.
“What do you know about that Dave guy?” Noah asked.
“Not too much. He stays pretty clean. He’s a smart guy who lost all of his money in the stock market. A short squeeze or something like that. Hell, I don’t know. Do I look like someone who follows the stock market?”
“He never had violent tendencies?” Noah asked.
“If he did, he hid them well,” Mackenzie said.
“Until today,” Noah said.
Mackenzie winced as she shifted positions. “I can’t believe that asshole opened fire on us like that.”
“Have you heard of any other weird incidents?” Jaime asked.
“Every day is weird in Cleveland,” Mackenzie said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Dave was hyped up on drugs. Maybe he thought we killed Thornberry?”
“Did Thornberry have any strange markings?” Jaime asked.
“Just a tattoo of a moth on his hand that looked more like a birthmark than a Rembrandt,” Mackenzie said.
“How do you know about the markings?” Noah asked Jaime.
“I’m a forensic pathologist, Noah. I saw photos of Monica Strauss,” Jaime said. “She had those black lines that looked like roots on her arms. I was thinking if Thornberry did, maybe there is a new drug on the streets.”
“Thornberry just had the tattoo,” Mackenzie said.
Noah glared at Jaime. His expression spoke louder than any words could. He didn’t believe her.
“Oh, well, I was just trying to connect the drug theory,” Jaime said.
“Thornberry had the same marks as Monica Strauss,” Noah said. “Dave had them too. Why do I get the feeling you already knew that?”
“What? I didn’t even know who Dave was until a few minutes ago,” Jaime said.
“That’s some extra weird shit,” Mackenzie said. “It’s worth looking into.”
Noah leaned in and kissed Mackenzie on the forehead. “Get well. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.” He turned to Jaime. “Let’s go. She needs rest.”
Jaime smiled and waved to Mackenzie before following Noah.
“Wha
t was that shit?” Noah asked.
“Excuse me?”
“You know what I mean, Jaime. How did you know about the strange markings on Monica Strauss? And why would you think Thornberry may have them?”
“I…”
"And don’t lie to me. I’m a detective. I know when someone lies to me,” Noah said.
“Don’t talk to me that way, Noah. I’m only trying to help,” Jaime said.
“Reggie showed you the crime scene photos from Strauss’s cell, didn’t he?” Noah asked.
“Maybe,” Jaime said.
“Why would you even care?” Noah hesitated. “Did you show Don?”
Jaime looked at the white linoleum floor. It was a telltale sign she had sent the photos to Don.
“Why? Please, don’t tell me you think something supernatural is happening here. You know I don’t believe in that crap,” Noah said.
“Something really weird is happening here, Noah.”
“Did you come back to Cleveland to play ghostbuster? Because if you did, you’re going to be disappointed,” Noah said. “You know Reggie could get fired for sending you those photos. You’re not a cop. You don’t work for the force. And you could be in trouble for sending them to a civilian. Right now, we have at least five open cases that could be related.”
“Think about what you just said. Five cases that could be related. All of those involved have no previous criminal records. And they all have those identical markings,” Jaime said.
“How do you know they all have the markings? You know what, never mind. Let me do my job, Jaime, and keep the ghost theories to yourself.”
Noah got in the elevator and closed the door, leaving Jaime in the hallway.
Twelve
Lanky watched from the window as Debbie meditated near the remains of Don’s herb garden. Most of the bright green colors of summer had been drowned out by the yellows, oranges, and browns of fall. She sat cross-legged, with her palms on her knees.
Lanky had told himself since joining Project Specter the reason was to fight evil. And that was true in the beginning, but after the divorce he stuck around to be close to Debbie. Lanky never stopped loving her, even though they were about as opposite as humanly impossible. She drove him insane, and Lanky was sure he returned the favor to Debbie. But she was beautiful. She was kind. She was his true love. Lanky cursed their differences early on after the divorce, but he learned to understand those were the things that made him fall in love with Debbie. He smiled, thinking back to their first date for coffee. He remembered the conversation of demons and the Darkness as if it had happened yesterday.
