The Hunter in the Shadows

by Joab Stieglitz

  “Do you often have premonitions?” he asked.

  “No,” Anna replied with dismay. “I have never had a dream such as that before. It was very lifelike, and included smells as well as sights and textures. But no sound.” Lyton froze again. “What does this mean?”

  The Englishman was still for several minutes. Accustomed to this behavior, Feldman stepped out of the office and returned a moment later. Lyton had not yet stirred when a brunette co-ed brought a tray bearing a pot, three cups, a sugar bowl, and a small pitcher of milk into the office and set it on the desk. She glanced at the motionless man, and then to Feldman.

  “Thank you, Bernice,” the librarian said, ignoring her expression of confusion. “Please close the door.” Bernice nodded and, still staring at Lyton, stepped out of the office, closing the door behind her. Anna poured a cup of tea for herself and gestured to Feldman, who nodded his thanks.

  “What do you make of this?” he asked as he poured some milk into the tea.

  “I did not know I was to become an assassin for hire when I went after Brian Teplow,” Anna said. “Though he seems to believe that this is my profession now.”

  “And yet it seems as if you have been selected for this task,” he added. Anna nodded with a grim expression. “How do you feel about killing someone in the real world?”

  “This Xuxaax is a monster,” Anna said in a tone that was clearly meant to convince herself. “It is not a person, and it should not be here,” she added. “It would be no different than when we killed the Pointees in the subway that time.”

  “But those creatures were attacking you,” Feldman said cautiously. “You were defending yourselves. This time, you would be going on the offensive, and on the word of this being.” He gestured to Lyton, who still had not moved.

  Anna was starting to feel pain behind her eyes. The metaphysical considerations were draining her. On the one hand, she had Lyton’s version of the situation, and the reality of what he was proposing was distressing. On the other hand, the dream she had had was so vivid that she could not ignore it. And Lyton said that the woman who was Sobak was in Boston. At some level, Anna felt compelled to rescue her little sister.

  ◆

  Anna was roused out of her musings by Lyton’s reanimation.

  “The Collective believes that the vision you saw was a premonition of this meeting, compounded by a psychic plea from your sister, and a presage of your pursuit of von Junzt.”

  “I thought that I was to go after this Xuxaax?” Anna said with exasperation. Her head was beginning to throb. “You said that this venture was to be completed before it even becomes aware of von Junzt!”

  “Your vision, as you described it,” Feldman said, inserting himself into the conversation, “suggests that you had been pursuing von Junzt and had wounded him. But you did find it and Sobak. Perhaps this can be taken as you hindering von Junzt’s plans by intercepting his would-be benefactor.”

  “That would be a reasonable interpretation,” Lyton said.

  “What else can you tell me?” Anna said, her distress evident. She pinched the bridge of her nose to try and numb the pain.

  “The pressure you are feeling is the awakening of dormant senses,” Lyton said. “Such is the consequence of direct interaction with the Collective.”

  “Someone is invading my mind?” Anna shouted.

  “No,” Lyton replied calmly. “The Collective is establishing a connection that will enable it to monitor your activities and perhaps provide some guidance. You will grow accustomed to the sensation.”

  “I have not agreed to kill this Xuxaax for you,” Anna spat, the pressure in her head becoming unbearable, “and I did not consent to aliens eavesdropping on my thoughts!”

  “This conduit will facilitate a more rapid exchange of information that you will need,” the Englishman said with that calm tone Anna was finding increasingly more annoying.

  Anna’s vision started to blur, and she closed her eyes, shakily placing the cup and saucer on the desk. It felt as if a red-hot poker was being forced between her eyes all the way through her skull. She grasped the sides of her head with both hands and squeezed. Then everything went black.

  ◆

  Anna awakened on a sofa in the Faculty Lounge across the hall from Feldman’s office. Cletus was licking her face when her eyes opened. Lyton sat impassively on another sofa at the other side of a coffee table.

  “Are you all right?” the director asked. Anna blinked a few times and sat up slowly, unconsciously wiping her face with her sleeve. She assessed her condition, and realized that her head no longer hurt.

  “I think the Collective has disconnected itself from my mind,” she said cautiously.

  “Not at all,” Lyton replied. “You were overwhelmed by a flood of information. The Collective has adjusted the flow to accommodate the limitations of your neural pathways. You have been provided access to some of what is known about the Xuxaax”

  Anna pictured the giant crocodile man from her dream in her mind. Suddenly, the being changed, transforming into a variety of human and alien forms. She noticed Feldman’s concerned gaze. “What has happened?”

  “You froze like Dr. Lyton here,” he replied. “You were completely motionless for about five minutes.”

  “She was in contact with the Collective,” Lyton said calmly. “You pursued a broad inquiry. With practice, you will learn to seek specific answers that will come to you much faster.”

  “What did you learn?” Feldman asked.

  “The Xuxaax are able to change their appearance,” she said with astonishment. Anna focused on that notion. “They take on the appearance of beings that they… eat?! How will I be able to identify them? In her mind, a light shined on the morphing being, creating a shadow in the shape of its original form. “But their shadows remain the same after they change shape. I seem to know all about them now.”

  “Then you should have what you need to pursue the Xuxaax in Boston,” Lyton said.

  “How will I know where to find it?” Anna said, but then images of shredded bodies in alleys and other secluded places appeared in her mind. “Look for savage attacks in isolated locations,” she said introspectively, nodding to herself. “I think I know how to proceed.”

  Chapter 7

  March 11, 1930

  Sleet fell as Anna and Cletus exited South Central Station. Through the precipitation, she noticed a band of toughs gathered at the corner of the building to her left. She made eye contact with one of them, and Cletus gave a low growl. Anna turned and went to the right though she had no specific destination in mind. She needed to find a hotel and start looking through the newspapers.

  For this assignment, Anna had dressed for action. She wore a long, brown leather coat over a beige sweater and jodhpurs with black boots and a brown fedora. In addition to the .25 Beretta automatic Father O’Malley had given her, now housed in a waistband holster at her back, Anna had throwing knives in sheaths on each forearm, as well as knives in each of her boots.

  Everywhere Anna looked, she saw homeless people. They gathered in alleys and in open spaces, where collections of makeshift shelters constructed from whatever lay around, commonly known as Hoovervilles, stood. The people searched for whatever work or charity they could find. The mob of unfortunates gave way to the woman and her dog, who ignored their pleas for assistance.

  When Anna rounded the corner of the terminal, she found herself looking at the tracks coming into the platforms. A patchwork of simple shelters lined the grass between the street and the tracks. And the man she had made eye contact with was waiting. Before she knew it, a short man had grabbed Cletus’ leash and yanked the dog from her side.

  “I’ll be taking that fer ya,” the large, muscular man before her said in a thick south Boston accent, “and you’ll be payin’ me a quarter to bring it to yer destination.” Not waiting for a response, he bent to take Anna’s suitcase. Instead, he received her elbow in his throat, followed by a sweep of her leg that knocked
the big man onto his back, gasping. Reacting to her sudden motion, Cletus sank his teeth into the leg of the man holding the leash. The dog shook the leg until his target fell and released the leash.

  “I will fend for myself,” she said, picking up her suitcase. Then she noticed that the man’s six companions lurked nearby. Other people in the area quickly disappeared across the rails or into their shelters.

  Cletus growled ominously, his hackles raised, as Anna assessed the thugs. They were laborers, she thought. They all had workmen’s builds. And all had some kind of improvised weapon. One had a length of pipe, two had pieces of scrap wood, and one had a hammer. They stared at her menacingly, but did not approach on account of the dog.

  Anna heard the leader on the ground rise to his knees and she kicked him in between the legs. She caught him unawares and sent him sprawling, slipping on the slush, cupping his groin in agony. At the sight of their companion’s further humiliation by the slight brunette, the others attacked.

  Anna had a knife in each hand before the first crony reached her, raising his pipe like a baseball bat. She expertly slashed at his nearest arm. Blood spurted from the wound, quickly coating the pipe and his other hand. The two-foot piece of lead shot out of his hands and struck the man with the hammer in the side of the head. Anna immediately slashed at the pipe man’s thigh, and he and the hammer man fell to the ground, slipping on the unstable surface like Keystone Cops.

  Suddenly, Anna found herself grabbed, her arms pinned to her sides by strong hands from behind. Another man struck her in the stomach with a section of two-by-four. Anna gasped as the air was pushed from her lungs. A third man hit her on the top of her head with a board. Her fedora was flattened, preventing serious injury, but she had dropped her knives.

  The short man reached for Anna’s suitcase, but suddenly fell backward, propelled by the pouncing Cletus, who knocked into the man with the board. The man facing her with the two-by-four was distracted, and Anna used that instant to kick him, hoping to knock him or the man who held her down. She braced against her captor, who was as solid as a brick wall, and the other assailant was propelled into a shanty by the force of her two feet. The simple structure collapsed. Its occupant ran past Anna and out of view.

  Without warning, the man holding Anna lurched forward as if struck by something from behind. He was hit several more times, and each time his grip got reflexively tighter on Anna. The short man who had reached for the suitcase rose again and joined the fray behind her. She heard the sounds of traded blows, and metal on metal. The fallen attacker rose from the ruins of the shelter, holding a short-handled shovel and threatened Anna with it as we approached.

  “All right,” Anna said with annoyance, “that’s enough.” She kicked her captor hard in the shin. In the moment his grip eased, she slipped through his arms, reached behind her, drew the Beretta, and shot blindly. The big man collapsed into the snow, screaming. When Anna rose again, the pistol was pointed at the shovel-man’s face.

  “Enough!” she shouted. The thug before her dropped the shovel and put up his hands. Behind her, the trading of blows continued. Anna stepped sideways, keeping the one before her in view while maneuvering to see the melee behind her.

  A man in a worn army uniform was holding one of the assailants’ pipes. He was sparring with two of the thugs. The short man sported two large lumps on his forehead and had lost his own weapon. The other looked to have a broken nose, but punched Anna’s helper relentlessly in the kidneys, stopping only to dodge the intermittent swipes with the pipe.

  Anna fired a shot in the air. The fighters stopped in their tracks. They looked to Anna, then to their fallen leader, still on the ground holding his privates, and finally to the man with his arms raised, before running off in different directions.

  After holstering her pistol and retrieving her knives, Anna stepped up to the soldier, who stood bent over with his hands on his knees, taking deep breaths and wincing from pain. Cletus sat by his side, panting.

  “Are you injured?” Anna asked, taking her would-be rescuer’s arm to guide him to a sitting position in the snow. Blood tricked from his nose, but there were no obvious injuries.

  “Nothin’ I haven’t taken before,” the man said, then he caught a glimpse of Anna and reflexively looked her up and down. He cleared his throat. “Nothing I can’t handle, ma’am,” he added with heroic bravado.

  Anna smiled. “I am indebted to you for assisting us with those ruffians.”

  “I couldn’t let those gangsters pester you,” he replied. “They’ve been preyin’ on the forgotten men since the Crash.”

  “I am Dr. Anna Rykov,” Anna said, holding out her hand. “What is your name, soldier?

  “I’m Ogden Shroud, ma’am,” he replied, looking at her offered hand. Anna could tell that the young man did not know whether to shake it or kiss it. “And this is Cletus,” she said with a smile as she took hold of his hand and shook it. “How shall I repay you for your heroism, Ogden?” Before the man could answer, she said, “How about if I buy you lunch?”

  “That’s not necessary, ma’am,” Ogden said automatically, though his facial expression contradicted the sentiment.

  “Please,” Anna said immediately, “I insist. And call me Anna.” Relief blossomed on the soldier’s face.

  “Well,” he said, “if you insist. At least let me carry your suitcase.”

  “Very well,” Anna replied. “Can you suggest a nice place to eat near here?”

  The soldier thought for a moment, looked Anna over again, and then his face became serious.

  “A proper lady, like yourself,” he said, “should be protected from the riffraff out here.” He glanced toward the opposite side of the terminal. “The nearest place of quality is the Ritz-Carlton by the post office, ma — um, Anna.”

  ◆

  Anna watched the forgotten men lined up in the snow along the sidewalk. They were waiting for their allotment of soup and bread provided by the Community Federation of Boston. She could see a grim-faced, matronly woman ladling what looked like thick liquid into the tin cups they all carried.

  Anna faced Ogden at a table inside a coffee shop and observed the shanty town across Tremont Street in the Boston Common. Cletus lay at their feet under the table. She mused over the notion of so many people gathered for a free meal in the park that was a symbol of American independence.

  “You seem able and fit, Ogden,” Anna said conversationally.“Why is it that you are not employed as a policeman or security guard somewhere?”

  The man’s face blanched, and he turned away for a moment.

  “Jobs, uh, are hard to find these days, Anna,” he said when he faced her again.

  “There is more to it,” Anna said in her professor’s voice, her tone demanding an answer. Her companion looked down at his hands in his lap and sighed. His face was a mask of anxiety when he looked up again.

  “I, uh,” he stammered, glancing alternately between Anna’s face and the remains of the roast beef sandwich on the plate before him, “my service record, um, doesn’t measure up for official jobs like police work.” He looked back in his lap.

  “I will not judge you, Ogden,” Anna said, reaching over to gently grasp his arm. “We all have gohsts in our past.”

  He looked up with curiosity at the comment. “I don’t think you can really appreciate such things.”

  “I am sure that you saw some horrible things during the war,” Anna said confidently. “I have seen battles myself.” Ogden took on a look of doubt. “I was in the Ukraine during the Russian Civil War. I saw death and bloodshed. I saw more peasants kill each other supporting the different factions than I saw soldiers dying on the battlefield.”

  Anna’s ruse seemed to work. Ogden collected his thoughts and looked around the mostly empty cafe. He moved his chair to sit adjacent to her and leaned in close. Anna leaned in as well.

  “The war in France was horrible,” Ogden whispered, “but what I saw afterward was worse.” Anna waited fo
r more, but the soldier was staring at the table again.

  “What happened?” Anna asked. “Were you still in the army?” Cletus laid his head in the soldier’s lap, and Ogden unconsciously started petting it.

  “My unit was assigned to occupy Koblenz in Germany after the war ended,” he said, still looking at the table. “We were based in the Ehrenbreitstein Fortress across the river from the city. We were supposed to guard the bridge across the Rhine River.”

  “And something happened at the fortress?” Anna probed.

  “No,” Ogden said, shaking his head. “We patrolled all around the castle grounds as well as by the bridge. It was thick forest, dotted with tenant farmers on the borders.” He took a deep, calming breath. “I was on patrol in the woods one night when I heard the screams of several people coming from a nearby farm.”

  “Were you alone on this patrol?”

  “I’d gotten separated from the others, but I was sure that they could hear the screams, too, so I ran to the farm.” He started breathing faster. “When I got to the farm, all was quiet. The screaming had stopped. I knew the others were coming, so I looked around for any wounded.

  “I heard a scraping sound coming from the farmhouse, like furniture being slid across the wood floors. I ran over there, and through the open door I could see three people — the farmer, his wife, and one of their young sons — sitting beneath the kitchen table. I heard the sound again, and noticed the other son sitting on a chair at the far end. As I watched, his head deflated like a balloon, and then it disappeared below the table.

  “I bent down to look, and there were splotchy, red, frog-like things on the floor. They were about so big,” he gestured with his fingers, suggesting about ten or twelve inches. “They had a bunch of suckers, like an octopus, instead of a face, and one was latched onto the kid’s thigh. While I watched, the kid slid off the chair and flattened out!”