The Inner Shadow (A Project Specter Mystery Book 3)

by Paul Seiple

  A tingle ran along Remi’s spine, causing her to let out a gasp. “Sorry, it was a joke. I wasn’t calling you a ghost.”

  Aura moved away from Remi and faded into a corner of the room.

  “Are you ready?” Debbie asked.

  “Yep. All protected. Now, let’s get that thing out of you,” Remi said.

  “Don, Mason, you should probably leave the room. Energy is unpredictable. I’m not sure how it’s going to react. It could try to jump to a new host,” Debbie said.

  “We’re not leaving you,” Don said.

  “He’s right. I’m old. I may never get a chance to see something like this again,” Mason said.

  “That’s not because of your age. It’s your diet,” Debbie said.

  “We can discuss my nutritional choices when you get your sight back,” Mason said.

  “Suit yourself, but at least get on the other side of the room,” Debbie said.

  Remi waited for them to get as far away from Debbie as possible. Aura reappeared and formed a translucent wall with a greenish hue in front of Don and Mason.

  “Just in case,” Aura said. “We all are magnets for the nasties.”

  Mason shrugged his shoulders.

  “Are you comfortable?” Remi asked as she lit sage and waved it over Debbie.

  “As comfortable as I can be without my sight,” Debbie said.

  “OK, I’m going to start,” Remi said.

  Her hands hovered over Debbie’s forehead. Remi figured of all the chakras, the third eye was the best place to start. Her palms heated as if she was warming them over an open fire. Occasionally, there would be a tingle that felt like a stray ash singing her flesh.

  Debbie’s heartbeat pulsated through Remi’s fingertips. Her breathing was more rapid than usual. Remi slowed her own breathing to lower her heartbeat. The energy transferred to Debbie. When their hearts beat in unison, Remi placed her hands on Debbie’s forehead.

  Despair latched onto Remi’s wrists and tugged at her. She fought it. It was as if the force was trying to pull her into darkness. Remi knew how to detach herself from someone’s energy, but this was different. This energy wasn’t from this world. She continued to fight until despair loosened its grip. An image of Debbie on the plane came into Remi’s mind. She saw the massive shadow impose itself on Debbie. It caught a glimpse of Remi standing in the plane’s aisle. The shadow moved away from Debbie and toward Remi. Debbie seemed to in be a trance-like state.

  A light mist slapped Remi’s face with a surprising sting. The shadow grew closer, turning the mist into rain. Water poured down Remi’s forehead. Her green-tipped hair matted to her cheek like seaweed washing ashore a beach. She refused to acknowledge the discomfort caused by the shadow. Recognizing it would give the shadow a way into Remi’s energy.

  Remi’s hands were now on top of Debbie’s head. Remi went blind for a flash. She kept her cool. It’s temporary, she told herself. I’m taking it from Debbie. An intense rage that shook Remi to the core followed the lack of sight. Remi was always cool-tempered. She never let anger overtake her. This was a different level of rage. It came from the same place as the energy. Remi’s heart thumped against her chest. She no longer shared a rhythm with Debbie. The out of sync feeling brought a vulnerability to Remi. She felt the danger as her skin grew cold. She couldn’t see what was happening, but she knew the shadow was imposing itself on her. Remi slowed her breathing. With each breath, a cold sensation that she attributed to hopelessness flowed through her body.

  Remi and Debbie’s heartbeats lined back up. She no longer felt in danger. Her energy was stronger than the shadow. It couldn’t possess her. Remi’s sight returned. She stared into the crimson red eyes of rage. The shadow couldn’t show emotion, but Remi felt its bewilderment. It turned back towards Debbie.

  “Not so fast,” Remi said.

  She stuck her hand through the shadow. She made a fist. The shadow balled up like a piece of paper. It fought for freedom from Remi’s grasp. But she had the upper hand now.

  Debbie stood and faced the shadow. Remi didn’t have to ask Debbie if she regained her sight. She saw it in Debbie’s emerald eyes. Debbie chanted something Remi couldn’t understand. Her hand warmed as if the fire had returned. The heat grew too much to bear. Remi opened her hand and ashes fell to the floor.

  “Look out,” Mason said, drawing Remi from the reiki session.

  He ducked behind Don. A shadow appeared from floor to ceiling, eating all the light from the room, leaving only the glow from Aura. It attracted the shadow to it like a moth to a flame. It hit the translucent wall built by Aura. Red eyes glared at Don and Mason before the wall collapsed around the shadow.

  Light returned to the room. Remi looked over her should at Don and Mason and asked if they were OK. Don nodded. Mason needed a few deep breaths before assuring Remi he was fine.

  “How about you?” Remi asked Debbie.

  Debbie rubbed her eyes as if they were full of sleep. Her vision cleared. “Yes, I think so.”

  “Good,” Remi said, before collapsing onto a chair. She put her head between her knees for a moment before lighting sage and waving it over her body. Her energy was depleted, which meant she was vulnerable to anything negative in the air.

  “How about you?” Mason asked.

  “Me? I’m always all right,” Remi said. She forced a smile, but didn’t care to make it look sincere.

  “The shadow thought it was hurting me by taking my sight. It actually helped me,” Debbie said. “I needed to be without my vision to see the truth.”

  Mason pulled up a chair next to Debbie. Don opened a dictation app on his phone and placed it on the table.

  “The shadow represents the part of the darkest parts of humanity,” Debbie said. “It’s invoking the inner shadow of this world.”

  “Like Jung’s shadow?” Mason asked.

  “Yes,” Debbie said. “This is different from anything we’ve encountered before. There is no one demon to deal with, it’s more like a virus and it’s feeding off humanity’s unpleasant side.”

  “That’s explains how it is passed so easily,” Don said, jotting the word “virus?” into a notebook.

  “How do we stop it?” Mason asked.

  “We have to find the summoner,” Debbie said. “The only way to end this is to pull it from the original host. The True Self only possesses the summoner. It projects onto others and will continue to infect those it comes in contact with, but finding them will not stop it.”

  “We think we’ve found the summoner. His name is Julian Paulsen,” Mason said.

  “Terrence and Kim are with Jaime. They have a lead on Paulsen,” Don said.

  “Are we sure he is the original host?” Debbie asked.

  “We found some online activity that suggests he summoned it through chaos magic,” Don said.

  “Get Kim back here now,” Debbie said. “She’s not prepared for this.”

  Don didn’t question Debbie. He scrolled through his contacts and dialed Kim.

  Thirty-Three

  Julian Paulsen never felt like he belonged. Joey Parker reminded him of that cruel truth every day of fifth grade. Joey was in sixth grade for the third time. He didn’t have a knack for learning, but it was uncanny how he could spot the weakest kid in school to pick on.

  Julian came under Joey’s radar after lunch one afternoon. Every day after was a living hell for Julian until Joey got busted for breaking into homes and sent away.

  It didn’t matter. There always was another bully to step up and take the asshole thrown.

  Julian became fascinated with witchcraft after stumbling upon a book at a thrift shop. He knew his mother would never buy him a book about witches. So, he stole it.

  This was the first time Julian did anything his mother would deem “unchristian” like. He hid the book underneath his mattress the same way other boys his age would hide porn magazines. Guilt consumed Julian the first couple of times he read the book. He was taught not to steal, but the
re was a small part hidden deep inside of him that enjoyed the thrill of stealing. It was Julian’s first time meeting his inner shadow.

  He stood at the bus stop with his shoulder braced against a post displaying bus routes and times. A kid, about fifteen, was eating a bagel with his mouth open while singing some latest pop song. Bread flew from his lips with every word.

  Disgusting, Julian thought. Maybe I should teach him the manners his parents didn’t?

  The old lady who appeared to Julian after he wrecked the bike sat on a bench beside him. “You should,” she said.

  “Why are you following me?” Julian asked.

  “Because you asked me to,” the old woman said.

  “I’ve never even seen you until today,” Julian said.

  “Remember when you stole that book when you were a kid?” The woman asked.

  “How did you know about that?” Julian asked.

  “I know everything. I know you want to rip out that kid’s tongue for chewing with his mouth open,” the old woman said.

  “That’s nothing. Who wouldn’t want to? It’s disgusting,” Julian said.

  “I know it reminds you of your mother’s drunk boyfriend who put that scar underneath your chin when you were twelve,” the old woman said.

  Julian stumbled back, away from the old woman. He rubbed his chin, sinking a finger into the small divot below his lip.

  “Do it,” the old woman said. “Take your rage out on that kid. You can’t do anything to your mother’s boyfriend, but you can…”

  “Shut up… just shut the hell up,” Julian said.

  His tone was so loud that the kid took out his earbuds and stared at Julian.

  “What?” Julian asked, keeping the same elevated tone.

  “Are you talking to me?” the kid asked.

  Julian glanced at the old woman on the bench. Her pupils had blackened. She opened her mouth, exposing infinite darkness.

  “What if I am talking to you?” Julian asked.

  “What did I do?” The kid asked.

  Smoke bellowed from the darkness in the old woman’s mouth. It enveloped her until she was no longer there. A bus pulled up to the stop. The kid grabbed his backpack and stood. Julian smiled.

  “Something’s really wrong with you,” the kid said.

  Julian placed his hand on the kid’s shoulder, shook his head, and said, “Sorry, I’m just having a bad day.” He stepped back and watched the kid board the bus.

  Danny Nelson grabbed the back of a seat as the bus pulled away from the stop. A weird feeling brought a brief bout of dizziness. He attributed it to the bus’s sudden movement. After regaining his balance, Danny walked down the aisle towards the back of the bus. It was packed, mainly with students heading to the university for afternoon classes.

  The smell of exhaust burned Danny’s nostrils, reminding him why the back seats of the bus were the last to be filled. He pinched his nose to suffocate the burn and keep the pollution out. Usually, Danny had to fight off nausea caused by the exhaust, but today a side of rage accompanied it. Danny had no idea why he wanted to punch his way through the bus like it was the final level of a video game, but he didn’t hate the feeling.

  The bus was noisy. No louder than usual, but today Danny was sensitive to the sounds of people talking and laughing. Someone was playing rock music from the speaker on their phone.

  “Not everyone wants to hear that crap,” Danny said, taking a seat beside a girl in the back row of the bus.

  “It’s not even good music,” the girl said. “Hi, I’m Allie.”

  Danny extended his hand. Allie returned the gesture.

  “I’m Danny. Yeah, it’s the worst.”

  Allie pulled her hand back and shot a confused look at Danny.

  “You OK?” he asked.

  “Didn’t you feel that? It was like a static charge or something,” Allie said.

  Danny smiled. Allie squinted as his face distorted. Her pupils felt dilated like after an eye exam. She backed away from Danny and rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands.

  “What’s your secret?” Danny asked.

  “What?” Allie moved further away from him.

  “We all have secrets,” Danny said. “I’ll let you in on one of mine. I want to kill that kid subjecting everyone to that awful music.”

  A strange churn hit Allie’s gut. It started as a slight burn, but intensified into a gnawing hunger. Her eyes focused again. She had an unwavering urge to kiss a stranger. She eyed a guy in a university letterman’s jacket a few rows ahead. He was a jock and not the type of guy who would give Allie a second look. She wore her brown hair straight. Never gave much thought to styling it. Allie’s nickname as a kid was “Coke bottle” thanks to her glasses and awkward figure. She was usually shy and never started conversations, but today Allie felt different. She wanted to be the girl she pretended to be in her room, alone. The sultry vixen no man could resist.

  “So, what’s you secret?” Danny asked again.

  Just do it. You know you’re dying to, Allie thought. She stood, ignored Danny, walked down the aisle, and stopped in front of the guy in the letterman’s jacket. He didn’t notice Allie. His attention was buried deep inside an issue of Sports Illustrated.

  “Hi, I’m Allie.”

  “OK,” the jock said without looking up from the magazine.

  “Are you ignoring me?” Allie asked.

  “Nah, I’m just really busy,” the jock said.

  “You can’t resist me,” Allie said.

  “What?”

  The jock looked up from the magazine. Allie kissed him. She forced her tongue between his lips. He pushed Allie. She fell back and hit her head against an armrest. The guy sitting next to the jock grabbed his arm to pull him back.

  A curtain of red fell before Danny’s eyes. His face burned with rage. He leaped from the seat and swung his backpack, connecting with the jock’s head, who slumped to the floor. Danny swung the pack again, hitting the jock in the back. Danny stepped away to catch his breath. The jock recovered from the shock of being struck. He bounced up and punched Danny. Following a sickening thud, blood spewed from Danny’s nose like a broken fire hydrant. He fell back in the aisle, nearly landing on two girls.

  “Oh God, he’s bleeding everywhere,” one girl said, covering her face with a purse.

  “Calm down, Jake,” the guy sitting next to the jock said.

  “That bastard attacked me,” Jake said.

  “He’s obviously on drugs.”

  “Hell, I think the whole bus is,” Jake said.

  A rush of jealousy stung the guy sitting next to Jake. Billy Mark grew up in the shadow of Jake, who was always a little better at basketball, a little better at football, and a lot better with the girls. Billy’s envy was always there, but he never let it show. Now it gnawed at him like a caged animal. He no longer saw Jake as a friend. He was the prison, keeping Billy from being his true self.

  “You saw that chick kiss me, right?” Jake asked. “Of course, you saw it.”

  Hatred boiled inside Billy. He pawed at a knife clipped to the pocket of his jeans.

  “You jealous?” Jake asked, rubbing the back of his neck. “You can have her. I’m not into nerds. And hey, you got a good chance. It looks like she’s passed out.”

  The sly smile that crossed Jake’s face sent Billy over the edge. He opened the knife and lunged at his friend. The blade sank into Jake’s neck. Pleasure washed over Billy as Jake’s blood splattered against his face. Jake grabbed for Billy’s wrist, but he sank the knife deeper until Jake’s arms fell to his side.

  “Oh, my god. He killed him,” a woman across from Billy said. She stumbled over the passenger blocking her from the aisle and ran toward the driver. “Stop the bus. They’ve lost their minds back there.”

  The bus driver looked into the rearview mirror. Jake was crumpled to the floor. Billy stood over him. His face was covered in blood. Danny sat beside Jake’s body, clutching his face. Allie was a row ahead of
them, still passed out.

  The driver stopped in the middle of the road. A car following too closely slammed into the back of the bus, sending passengers against the seats in front of them. Billy lost his balance and placed his hand on the shoulder of a man for balance.

  “Don’t touch me, you psycho.”

  “Calm down, asshole,” Billy said, jamming the knife into the man’s neck.

  Everyone sprung from their seats and raced toward the door.

  All units proceed to St. Claire. There is an incident on a city bus.

  “How far is that?” Kim asked.

  Noah jerked the steering wheel and made a sharp right. “Five blocks.”

  “I’ll call Don and tell him we’ll be late,” Kim said.

  Noah radioed to the dispatcher and informed her that all officers should use caution and not approach the bus until he got there.

  “Don’s meeting us on St. Claire,” Kim said.

  Thirty-Four

  Four patrol cars blocked Old River Road. The passengers who got off the bus stood on the curb in front of a coffee shop. Patrons near the accident fought for a better view from the windows of stores.

  “How many are still on the bus?” a cop asked.

  The driver shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe four… five?”

  “What happened?”

  A woman stepped in front of the driver. “There’s a murderer. I saw him kill two people.”

  The driver let her finish before answering. “There was some commotion in the back. A fight broke out, and I guess someone got stabbed.”

  “Is the assailant still on the bus?” the cop asked.

  The driver eyed the crowd and shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry, I didn’t get a good look at him.”

  Noah pulled in behind a police cruiser. “OK, so how do we explain this if it has something to do with Julian? I can’t tell them it’s a shadow… or a demon… or whatever the hell it is.”

  There was a knock on the driver’s window. Noah turned to see Don waving his prosthetic hand.