The Shadow Box: Paranormal Suspense and Dark Fantasy Thriller Novels

by Travis Luedke

  Even if that was the case, the vision he’d had earlier was inaccurate. Aldrich was supposed to have been unconscious on the floor when they returned to the manor, but instead was prepared and waiting with a shotgun. Yeah, Nick’s ability had saved Juliet’s life before, but this time it had almost gotten them all killed. I need to gain control over it. How could he trust his visions when so far there had been major consequences?

  ‘My brothers ... You can’t seem to control them fully. What do their minds look like to you?’

  ‘Similar to yours, but closer to their physical bodies. I saw some of their patterns. I could have controlled them. Would have taken more time. Effort. They are not like you. Their minds are different to others, and so is yours, but yours is more … complex.’ Reprovingly, Aldrich added, ‘Yours is out of my reach.’

  Do my brothers have the same ability I have? Maybe to a different degree? Yet another mystery added to his list. ‘Why did you try to use your ability to get me and Juliet to hand over our valuables?’ he asked, perplexed. ‘You obviously have a lot of money … Look at your manor.’

  ‘I get whatever I can from everyone who comes to my door. Why not? I love free stuff. Mobile phones are fun. Private texts. Surprising how many people have naked pictures of themselves on their mobiles. Some people, I make them give me their clothes. Sometimes I trance them into sexual favours. Mind-wipe. They don’t remember anything.’

  Nick cringed. If he hadn’t been immune to Aldrich’s ability, he and Juliet might not have escaped the manor earlier today … and would have been subjected to Aldrich’s perversions. He came close to calling Aldrich a sicko, a rapist, a monster, but what good would that do? ‘Have you always had this ability or did you gain it somehow?’

  ‘It was a gift.’

  ‘Someone passed it down to you?’ It was difficult to imagine someone or something bestowing such a gift. Surely it was impossible … ?

  ‘A gift from Moloch.’ Aldrich’s voice was heavy and full of homage when he said the name.

  Moloch? That sounded familiar to Nick, recent in his mind, like something that had caught his interest. Something not good. Then he remembered …

  During his Internet research into psychic powers and mythology, he’d found a link to another website with information about Moloch, an ancient god worshipped by Canaanites and Phoenicians. Artistic representations of Moloch showed a large man horned like a bull—in some pictures he was winged, and in others he even had a bull’s head.

  Then Nick recalled the worst part. In the past, worshippers sacrificed children by fire to the horned god. ‘Are you referring to the ancient god Moloch?’

  ‘Who else?’ Aldrich acted offended.

  ‘But Moloch isn’t real.’

  Aldrich made a fierce attempt to shake his tied arms free. He groaned, wriggled, then gave up. ‘Moloch is my master! I do His bidding.’

  You do his bidding … ? That should mean something—Nick knew it should. There was a bigger picture here … Moloch’s bidding … ? It felt like a spider’s web coming together in his mind, and then eventually a fly caught at the opposite side, the victim’s vibration being sent down the threads, along and along … to Nicolas. Ah! ‘Katie Baker,’ he said, askance. ‘You kidnapped her …’

  Abruptly, the air seemed colder and oh-so-still. The trees stopped rustling, as if waiting to hear Aldrich’s response. At first Aldrich looked frightened—his eyes shifted, his face stiffened—but then he smiled a wicked grimace. Proudly, he said, ‘She was a gift to Moloch.’

  Nick’s stomach took a pungent twist. Saliva began to fill his mouth. He almost wished he hadn’t figured it out. ‘Children have been disappearing on this island every ten years or so …’ Nick struggled not to shake. ‘It couldn’t have been you all those times. You don’t look much older than thirty.’

  ‘Moloch grants me many gifts.’

  Longevity? Nick didn’t believe any of this Moloch business. Even if he had attempted to meet deities through meditation before, had he ever really believed in any gods? Or a singular god? I was just desperate, craving anything more than what I had. But Moloch? Nick simply couldn’t believe in the existence of a god so evil.

  Maybe Aldrich was born with his mind control ability, and maybe part of his power was longevity or even immortality, but Nick was certain Aldrich was delusional about his beloved god. Thinking on it, it made a weird kind of sense that Aldrich was older than he looked—his accent was fleeting and unplaceable, his speech muddled, and his name incongruous with his appearance. He could have worshipped his imaginary god for hundreds of years. Maybe more. All those poor children … ‘You burnt them all alive?’ Nick asked through tense lips.

  ‘No. They go into the light.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I used to burn them, centuries ago. Then Moloch appeared to me personally. Yes. Personally. He demands they go into the light now.’

  That confirmed Nick’s suspicion. Aldrich had been sacrificing children for a long time. Maybe not all on Lansin Island, but still … they were children.

  Aldrich continued, ‘Their own parents sacrificed them. Mr and Mrs Baker led their daughter into the light.’

  But they had made appearances in the media, begging for information on their daughter’s whereabouts, thought Nick. Mora had shown him the newspaper roughly a week ago; Mr and Mrs Baker were still searching for Katie. ‘You did it, didn’t you? You used your mind trick on her parents. You forced them to sacrifice their own child, and then made them forget.’ He clenched his fists and couldn’t help saying, ‘You’re sick … twisted …’

  ‘Moloch demands it. Parents must do the deed.’ Aldrich actually laughed and shrugged his shoulders as if to say, ‘I don’t make the rules.’

  Nick paced back and forth. ‘Moloch isn’t real, you delusional freak!’

  A sharp barking noise escaped Aldrich. He spat towards Nick, and although the spittle fell short, it managed to infuriate Nick even more.

  The urge to hit Aldrich, to make him suffer, was almost overwhelming. Nick was unsure if he could fight it off. Why could people like Aldrich get away with such monstrous things, when someone like Nick received a beating for stopping a thief, for trying to do what he believed was right?

  He tapped and tapped the palm of his left hand, fast and hard. I’M CALM, I’M FOCUSED, I’M CALM, I’M FOCUSED!!! It didn’t work. Maybe the best plan to distract his anger would be to ask more questions, to keep the ‘conversation’ flowing. But what could he say? All he could do was judge this disgusting man.

  ‘Think of all the good you could do with your power,’ said Nick, feeling compelled to say it. ‘You could change the minds of the world’s most evil people. You could erase a paedophile’s intentions, change their life completely and save a lot of suffering. You could change someone’s limiting thoughts and behaviours. You could destroy evil intentions in anyone’s head—get people out of prison with a fresh mind, free from hate or criminal tendencies. Maybe you could even cure mental illnesses. But instead you destroy lives, sacrificing innocent children!’

  It tired him, thinking of all the suffering Aldrich could have prevented across the years, but his conscience nagged at him. Would it be ethical to invade anyone’s mind at all? Even if your goal is to expunge their murderous tendencies? All humans have the right to their own private thoughts. Is it wrong to take away that liberty? If the world knew about Aldrich, would or could they even use his power ethically?

  Before, Nick had believed he a good sense of right versus wrong, but this really tested him. Maybe thinking in terms of ethical versus unethical was easier … or more difficult. Maybe these labels didn’t matter, and it was purely a being’s intention that was important—giving out love versus giving out hate.

  Aldrich shouted, ‘Only Moloch tells me what to do. I do His bidding!’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, I know,’ said Nick, exhausted. ‘You’ve already told me.’ There was still so much he wanted to ask, but he wasn’t sure he could handle the answ
ers for much longer. ‘How do you … pick people? Do you leave the manor to find your victims?’

  ‘It’s a fun game.’ Aldrich was sinister and smiling. Blood was crusted all down his face. ‘Moloch doesn’t ask often. He expects one or two a decade. If I get the chance, I sacrifice more than that. As often as I like. It was easier in the past. There are places in the world where it would go unnoticed, but Moloch wants me on this island. This is his home for now. Where I worship him. To pick my victims, I have methods. But let me ask you something first.’ He glowered. ‘Are you going to kill me?’

  The air stopped in Nick’s throat. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. Kill him? Murder? No … But he couldn’t hand him over to the authorities either, as much as he wanted to. Mr and Mrs Baker deserved closure, and so did the other parents from across the years, but how could Nick tell them about all of this? And Aldrich would easily escape any captivity, and then who knows what he would do?

  ‘No, I’m not going to kill you. We will figure something out, a compromise. I just want to ask you more questions.’

  ‘A compromise? Yes. I know! That pretty woman with you. I can make her yours. I’ll make her your slave. She’ll treat you like a king. I can do that. Make her yours. Your bitch. Yes? And you’ll let me go?’ He spoke quickly this time, excitedly.

  ‘No! You can’t invade someone’s mind like that. She has her own free will.’ Nick almost barked the words, angered by Aldrich’s lack of respect for Juliet. He was sexually attracted to her; he couldn’t deny that. But what Aldrich was suggesting was no better than rape. If Nick and Juliet’s relationship ever developed to a sexual stage, he would want it to be consensual. Intimate. Loving. But that was thinking way ahead. With utter resolve, he said, ‘Whatever compromise we make, it will involve you never harming anyone ever again …’ How he would ensure that, he had no idea, but there had to be a way.

  Aldrich twitched. ‘What about money? I’ll make you rich! Look at my manor. All the money in the world. Yours!’

  ‘No. I don’t want any possessions from you.’ He found himself glancing back towards Grendel Manor. All that money. I’d never have to work again … His eyebrows slowly came together … No! ‘I’m not going to kill you anyway.’ He cringed again at the thought of it. ‘I need to ask you more questions.’

  ‘You want to know about your mother. I know why you’re here.’

  ‘Yeah.’ His chest panged. ‘That’s why I’m here.’

  But Aldrich continued with the previous conversation as if he’d never changed subject. ‘How I pick my victims … I can afford to take my time. My favourite method is to advertise. In the local paper. Old junk for sale, car for sale, collectibles, and the likes. Yes. I never own the actual items. And when they call me and come to my manor, I invite them inside. That is where the game begins … Game, yes!’ He sniffled a disturbing laugh. ‘Sometimes I ask direct questions. Other times I jump right inside of their minds. Does anyone know you are here? Yes equals go home and I erase their memory of ever visiting the manor, but a no and we are on to the next level. Do you have children? Yes, the next level. No, go home and erase memory.’

  ‘That sounds like a long process …’ Nick was disgusted by Aldrich’s ritual-like method of picking victims. It reminded him of serial killers from TV programmes and films. Well, he supposed Aldrich was a serial killer.

  ‘Yes, yes. It can take a long time to find the right person, or people. Long time. It’s ever so fun. Fun. Yes! Criteria: No one knows they came to my manor, no one knows they were interested in my item in the ad, they have to have children, and then the next level is programming their minds.

  ‘It takes some time. I program them to fetch their children and return to the manor. I program them to be stealthy about it. Don’t tell anyone. If they are seen too close to the manor, then turn around and try another day. If not, then continue. It’s secluded out here. Nearest house, a few miles.

  ‘Once they are here, the parents do the deed. I fiddle with their minds again—ensure they have no memories of gifting my master—then send them on their way. They return to their lives, then think, Where’s my dear child?’ Aldrich smiled and appeared to be reminiscing. ‘Ha! I love to read the papers, watch the news. Sobbing parents pleading for their missing child. Funny. Mr and Mrs Baker are particularly pathetic.’

  ‘You’re sick,’ Nick said in a frank tone. ‘There’s nothing human about you.’ He paced for a while, trying to compose himself. ‘I … I don’t want to hear anything more about this. Just tell me what you know about my mum.’ The moment of truth. His heart quickened in preparation.

  ‘Your mother rang me. She saw my advert. Small family dayboat for sale. I think it was three thousand and three hundred pounds. She was disgustingly cloying. Cloying. Yes! Blabbed about it being the perfect birthday present for her husband. Soppy, sickly stuff. I played along. We agreed on a cash payment if she came to view the boat and wanted it. Of course the boat didn’t exist.’ He was looking off to the side, through the trees, showing blatant boredom.

  Nick tensed up at hearing Aldrich mock his mother. He tried to figure out the story as he went along.

  ‘Your mother arrived at my glorious manor. I invited her inside. Spoke with her. She had your smile. I thought I recognised you when you came to my door earlier. Yes. Anyway, I asked your mother the usual questions—Do you have children, did you tell anyone you came here, etcetera. Ha, etcetera. Yes!

  ‘She answered me confusedly. I was happy to learn she had three children: two of them ten-year-old boys, twins, your brothers! Moloch loves twins. Then I tried to trance her, use my mind trick, as you called it. I said to her, Bring me your twins, while I tried to dig inside of her mind … but it was like yours! It was out of reach.’

  Although it was cold and Nick had been chilled throughout, he now experienced a heat surging through him—a hot rage. The thought that Aldrich would have sacrificed Tom and Tommy made him furious. He wanted to cover his eyes and ears. He wanted to cry.

  ‘I panicked then,’ Aldrich continued. ‘Your mother knew there was something fishy about me. I’d revealed that I wanted her boys, her precious twins. She stood up to leave, but I couldn’t let her, no, and I couldn’t trance her, no! She would have told the authorities about me. If enough people came to my door, I wouldn’t be able to control that many at once. No. Not effectively. I’d never met anyone who I couldn’t trance. Never. In my long years, never.

  ‘I reached for a knife, an old ornament of mine, and I stabbed her repeatedly. Yes. Ha! I’d never killed anyone without using my ability before. It was invigorating. She struggled. Tried to scratch at my face. Tried to kick me. Blood everywhere!’ Except for the occasional stresses, he said everything matter-of-factly, as if telling Nick what he’d had for breakfast rather than how he’d murdered his mother. ‘I disposed of her body. Put it in the boot of her car and drove it to the cliff over there’—he pointed towards the cliff edge—‘and pushed it over.’

  A lump invaded Nick’s throat as he realised, Mum never wanted to leave us ... And now he also knew why she’d withdrawn the money—to buy a romantic present for her husband. John would have loved a dayboat. He would have used it for fishing.

  Nick’s mind was foggy. He came over lightheaded and uncomfortable. Unbidden, graphic images came to him—his mother struggling, fighting for her life. The pure horror she must have felt. What were her last thoughts? His body became hotter, sweatier, alternating between tensing and shaking.

  He thought of his relationship with his dad, how it had changed after his mum’s disappearance. He thought about his insecurities in the past relationship with Kerra, how he’d been constantly afraid she would leave him, like his mother had. He thought about how he’d failed most of his GCSEs because of grief. He thought about how he’d had to move out to get away from his dad, how little money he had these days. He thought about how he’d secluded himself, how he’d lost contact with most of his friends.

  And finally, he thought
about how everything should have been, had his mother not been killed: all the joy his dad would have known; all the family experiences they could have had together over the past eight years; the holidays they could have gone on; the Christmases and birthdays they could have celebrated as a complete family; the love they would have shared.

  I want to kill him.

  He looked at Aldrich. The murderer was impatiently goggling around at the trees. The one he leaned against was completely leafless, tall and almost black with crooked branches. It looked dead but full of character, menacing—if a tree could be described as such. It was only too appropriate to have the monster known as Aldrich propped against the macabre tree.

  Aldrich turned his eyes sharply towards Nick. ‘Oh, and if I could have put your mother under a trance, I would have done a lot more than just sacrifice your brothers … She was a pretty thing. Yes. She would have looked very agreeable in my bed.’ He cackled violently.

  Within a split second, Nick found himself pounding Aldrich in the face. He brought his fist down repeatedly, feeling the awful thuds of his knuckles on the man’s skull. Aldrich’s nose cracked. Blood gushed from his nostrils.

  I hate you, I HATE YOU! Nick moved back, only to kick Aldrich in the ribs. It pleased him that he’d worn winklepickers. The pointed end would surely hurt. In his fury, the pains from being attacked earlier were dulled. They didn’t matter!

  But then he got his foot tangled in the chocolate-brown throw and awkwardly tripped on it. He got back up and continued to kick and punch in a frenzy. Aldrich weakly murmured, ‘St … stop … p … ppuh … please.’ His head lolled to one side. Spit mixed with blood sloppily dripped from his mouth.

  Why should I stop? You didn’t stop when you stabbed my mum to death, my innocent mum! You don’t deserve mercy … But for some reason Nick did stop. He focused on the pain in his knuckles and toes. His fists were bloody. His body ached.