Shadows Fall

by Simon R. Green

  YOU WON’T FIND SHADOWS FALL ON ANY MAP…

  Shadows Fall: a small town in the back of beyond, where legends go to die when the world stops beliving in them. An elephants’ graveyard of the supernatural, where the real and the imagined live side by side, and lost souls find their way home.

  …BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN IT ISN’T THERE

  The town’s mayor, Rhea Frazier, and Leonard Ash once were close friends — but they’ve mostly avoided each other since Ash died. Now a brutal serial killer and the prophesied return of James Hart have thrown Shadows Fall into disarray and Rhea, Ash and the rest of the town’s inhabitants are scrambling to figure out how it all fits together.

  They’re all afraid of one thing: the death of Shadows Fall.

  SHADOWS FALL

  Simon R. Green

  Contents

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE: Carnival

  CHAPTER TWO: Unexpected Answers

  CHAPTER THREE: Galleries of Frost and Bone

  CHAPTER FOUR: Saying Goodbye

  CHAPTER FIVE: Secret Places

  CHAPTER SIX: Memories

  CHAPTER SEVEN: Something Bad Is Coming

  CHAPTER EIGHT: First Strike

  CHAPTER NINE: Interlude

  CHAPTER TEN: Second Strike

  CHAPTER ELEVEN: Endgame

  PROLOGUE

  There’s a town where dreams go to die. A place where nightmares end, and hope itself can rest. Where all stories find their ending, all quests are concluded, and every lost soul finds its way home at last. There have always been such places, scattered here and there in the dark corners of the world, but down the years, as science grew and magic waned, much of the wonder went out of the world, and the hidden places grew few and far between. Now there is only the small town of Shadows Fall, tucked away in the back of beyond and overlooked by the everyday world. Few roads lead there, and fewer still lead out again. You won’t find Shadows Fall on any map, but it’ll be there for you, if you need it badly enough.

  You can find all sorts of things at Shadows Fall. There are doors that can take you anywhere, to lands that no longer exist and worlds that some day might. Strange people and stranger creatures walk the sprawling streets, along with everyone you ever knew or hoped you’d never have to meet again. In this far away town, mothers and fathers can find lost children, and children grown old can find their parents once again, to unsay harsh words and angry silences, and heal old wounds that have never been forgotten. In Shadows Fall you can find judgement or forgiveness, old friends and childhood enemies, love or hope or a second chance. It’s that kind of place.

  Mostly, though, it’s a town where people go to die. People, and other things. Shadows Fall is the elephants’ graveyard of the supernatural, where people, creatures, concepts and stories go to die when no one believes in them any more. Everything that is believed in strongly enough takes on a kind of presence, a kind of life that persists even after the belief has gone. But there is no room for such as that in the real world. And so they go, travelling through city shadows and back streets no one uses any more, until at last they come to Shadows Fall, step through the Forever Door and pass out of the awareness of the world, for ever. Or they can stay in Shadows Fall, become real, grow old and die a natural death.

  At least, that’s the idea. The reality, as usual, is much more complicated.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Carnival

  It was Carnival in Shadows Fall once again. A time of feasting and revelry, parades and fairs, conjurors and costumes and marvels. At the edge of town, tents and stalls had appeared all over Lumpkin Hill as though by magic, springing up overnight like the kind of mushroom that gives unquiet dreams when eaten. Bands played and couples danced, and children ran shrieking through the good-natured crowds, so full of happiness and excitement they felt as if they might explode at any moment, and sprinkle all the people with wild delight and joie de vivre.

  It was early in the evening in the middle of November, the darkening sky just dark enough to set off the glowing paper lanterns and the occasional spontaneous burst of fireworks. A brisk wind stirred the flags and pennants and the ladies’ dresses, and spread the smell of barbecues and roasting chestnuts across the cool evening air, already sharp with the promise of winter. A dozen songs rose and fell, somehow never clashing but always finding some harmony they could agree on.

  It was a time of celebration, of life and living; a final farewell for those passing through the Forever Door, and a time of comfort for those who stayed behind, or who had not yet worked up the courage to approach the Door. Even those who are only partly alive can still fear the final darkness, the final mystery. But there was never any pressure or impatience; the Door had always been there, and always would be. In the meantime, it was Carnival, so eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow is another day in Shadows Fall.

  Leonard Ash stood alone by a brightly-coloured tent offering mulled wine, the steaming cup forgotten in his hand. He looked out over the Carnival, watching the people come and go, and wished he could be like them, happy in their everyday lives, full of hope and purpose and meaning. Ash no longer had a future, and though he tried hard not to get too depressed about it, there were times when he missed the simple pleasures of planning things to do, places to go, people to meet. As it was, he went on from day to day, and tried to be content with that.

  Ash had been dead almost three years now, but he didn’t like to complain. Like everyone else who was no longer entirely real, he could feel the constant call of the Forever Door, but he couldn’t leave Shadows Fall. Not yet. He looked out over the crowds at the town below, spread out in the growing gloom, its street lights glowing proudly against the coming night. No one knew how old the town was; it was older even than its own records. Ash used to find its sense of permanence comforting, knowing that one thing at least was constant in an ever-changing world. But since his death he’d discovered a growing sense of resentment at the knowledge that the town would go on quite happily without him, not needing or missing him in the least. He felt his leaving, as and when it finally happened, ought to leave a distinct gap; a space defined by his absence. He could accept the thought that his life hadn’t mattered, but he liked to think he’d at least been noticed. He smiled sourly. He’d always been a loner, by choice and temperament, and it was a bit late now to be having second thoughts. But though he would have liked just to plunge into the Carnival crowd and forget his problems in casual revelry, it wasn’t in him. He’d always chosen his own path, gone his own way, and the comfort of crowds was denied him.

  A stilt-walker lurched past, ducking his head now and again to avoid the strings of lamps criss-crossing above the tents and stalls. He doffed his battered top hat to Ash, who nodded back politely. He’d never liked heights. He looked deliberately in a different direction, and smiled as he spotted an Aunt Sally standing patiently before a dozen small children, her straw-filled stomach acting as a lucky dip for their eager hands. They all found toys or candy, and none of them were disappointed. The female scarecrow looked across at Ash, a contented smile on her cloth face. She raised a ragged arm in greeting, and Ash smiled back stiffly. Even a scarecrow was more alive than he was. He realized he was feeling sorry for himself again, but couldn’t bring himself to give a damn. It was a dirty job, but someone had to do it.

  He looked around, searching for something to distract him. That was why he’d come out, after all. At the base of the hill, a Yeti and a Bigfoot were giving kids rides on their shoulders. A cartoon mouse with a giant mallet was chasing a cartoon cat. And six different versions of Robin Hood were holding an impromptu archery competition, and arguing more or less good-naturedly as to which of them was the realer. All the usual faces, in other words. Just another evening in Shadows Fa
ll.

  Leonard Ash was a tall, gangling sort, with an amiable face and hair that always looked as though it could use a good combing. Even at his best he tended to look as if he’d left the house in a hurry. He had calm, thoughtful eyes that were sometimes grey and sometimes blue, and missed very little. He lived, if that was the right word, with his parents, and had few friends, though that was no one’s fault but his own. He’d never been particularly gregarious, even before he died. He was thirty-two, and had been for almost three years now. Nothing special to look at; just another face in the crowd. If you’d asked him, he’d have said he was happy enough, mostly, but he would have had to think about it for a moment first. He looked out over the tents and the stalls and all the people, an ordinary-looking man whose greatest sorrow was that he had no one to dance with. That was about to change, dramatically. He had no right to be surprised. Nothing ever stays the same for long in Shadows Fall.

  Not far away, Mayor Rhea Frazier shared a smile and a joke with an elderly couple whose faces were familiar even if their names weren’t, and wondered how best to rid herself of the confused-looking man who’d attached himself to her. He’d only just arrived in Shadows Fall, and didn’t seem entirely sure what had brought him there. In the meantime, Rhea had made the mistake of showing him a sympathetic face, and he’d latched on to her like a long-lost friend. Rhea didn’t mind, except that he was distracting her from her Mayoral duties of shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries with as many voters as possible, while simultaneously reminding them of the upcoming election for Mayor, and her excellent record in that position. Voters tended to forget all the good things you did for them, if you weren’t careful to remind them now and again.

  Rhea Frazier was a brisk, good-looking black woman in her mid-thirties, with short cropped hair, a direct gaze and a professional smile. She wore fashionable clothes with style and dignity, and had a mind like a rat-trap; solid, reliable and unforgiving. Together with Sheriff Erikson, Rhea Frazier was what passed for authority in Shadows Fall. The town had a way of sorting out its own problems, that was part of its nature, but still there were times when things threatened to get out of hand, and then either Rhea or the Sheriff would step in. She tended to play the voice of reason, and present a sympathetic and impartial ear, while the Sheriff tended to glare at everyone menacingly.

  There was a town Court and a town jail, but neither of them saw a lot of use. Few people wanted to cross the Sheriff, so Rhea spent a lot of her time listening to people’s troubles, and then directing them to those people in the community who could best help them. She enjoyed her work, and had every intention of continuing it for as long as possible. On the whole, the town seemed happy enough with her work, which was just as well. Shadows Fall had some efficient but not terribly nice ways of dealing with Mayors who couldn’t cut the mustard.

  Rhea glanced unobtrusively at the man at her side, and thought it was time she did something about him. Adrian Stone was a short, middle-aged man with thinning hair and sad eyes. He kept looking about him in a vague, hopeful way, but was quite unable to tell Rhea what he was looking for, or what had called him to Shadows Fall. It wasn’t an uncommon situation. The elderly couple said their goodbyes and moved off into the crowd, and Rhea decided she’d better give her new friend a nudge in the right direction. Like most visitors, he’d lost something or someone precious, and had come to Shadows Fall in search of it. All she had to do was help him remember what it was.

  “Tell me, Adrian; are you married?”

  Stone smiled, and shook his head almost apologetically. “No; I never found the right woman. Or she never found me. Anyway, there’s only ever been me.”

  “How about your parents? Were you very close?”

  Stone shrugged, embarrassed, and looked away. “My father was always away. And my mother was not a… demonstrative woman. I never had a brother or a sister, and since we were moving all the time, there were never any friends, really. I never wanted for anything money could buy, but then, money isn’t everything, is it?”

  “You must have been close to someone,” said Rhea patiently. “What about the people you work with?”

  “You couldn’t really call them friends,” said Stone. “They were just people in the office; someone to smile at and chat with, and wave vague goodbyes to at the end of the day. We kept to ourselves, and concentrated on getting the job done. The management didn’t believe in wasted time or idle hands. I didn’t mind. I’ve always been… awkward in company, and it was interesting work, mostly.”

  Rhea looked at him exasperatedly. “There must have been someone; some time in your life when you were happy! Think, Adrian! If you could relive any part of your life, any part at all, what would you choose?”

  Stone stood silently for a long moment, his gaze turned inwards. And then the clouds lifted from his brow, and he smiled suddenly, looking somehow younger, and more at peace with himself.

  “I had a dog called Prince, when I was a boy. A great big boxer dog with an ugly face and a heart as big as he was. I was six years old, and we went everywhere together. I could talk to him, tell him things I couldn’t tell anyone else. I loved my dog, and he loved me.”

  Stone smiled shyly at Rhea, and she noticed without surprise that he was now less than half his previous age; a slight young man in his mid-twenties. He had all his hair and he stood a little straighter, but his eyes were still sad.

  “I suppose everyone thinks their dog is special, but Prince really was. I taught him tricks, and I was never scared or uncertain or alone when he was there. He died just before my seventh birthday. He had a growth, a cancer in his stomach. Apparently boxers are prone to such things, though of course I didn’t know that at the time.” He frowned, remembering. He was a teenager now, growing steadily younger as he talked.

  “I came home from school one day, and Prince wasn’t there. My father told me that he’d taken Prince to the vet, and had him put to sleep. Prince had been ill for some time, growing weaker and thinner, but I’d just assumed he’d get better. I was only six, after all. My father explained to me that Prince wasn’t going to get better, ever, that he’d been in a lot of pain, and it really wasn’t fair to let him go on suffering. He told me that Prince had been very well-behaved, right to the end. The vet gave him an overdose of anesthetic, and Prince closed his eyes, and went to sleep for ever. I don’t know what the vet did with the body. My father never brought it home. Perhaps he thought it would upset me.”

  Adrian Stone looked up at Rhea, his mouth quivering, a six-year-old boy with eyes full of tears he would not shed. “I loved my dog and he loved me. The only one who ever did.”

  Rhea knelt down beside him. “What did Prince look like? Did he have any special markings?”

  “Yes. He had a white mark on his forehead, like a star.”

  Rhea took him by the shoulders and turned him gently round. The crowd parted before them to reveal a large boxer dog with a white mark on its forehead. “Is that him, Adrian?”

  “Prince!” The dog’s ears pricked up as the boy called his name, and he came bounding forward to leap around the boy like a great overgrown puppy. Adrian Stone, six years old, happy at last, ran off with his dog and vanished into the crowd.

  Rhea got to her feet again, and shook her head, smiling slightly. If only all of her problems could be solved that easily. Someone waved to her at the corner of her eye, and she looked round to see Sheriff Richard Erikson making his way towards her. The crowd parted before him, giving him plenty of room. Rhea groaned silently, and wondered what had gone wrong this time. More and more these days, it seemed to her that Richard only sought her out when he had a problem he couldn’t solve, so he could dump it in her lap and turn his back on it with a clear conscience. It hadn’t always been that way. They’d been friends once, and probably still were, if you stretched the term a bit. She kept all that out of her face, and nodded coolly to Erikson as he came up to her.

  The Sheriff was a tall, broad-shouldered man in his
mid-thirties with dark hair and darker eyes. He was handsome enough, in an overpowering sort of way, and his great muscular frame gave him a sense of presence that was almost intimidating. Not that Rhea ever allowed herself to be intimidated, by Erikson or anyone else. She smiled briefly at him, and he nodded calmly in return, as though he’d just happened to cross her path.

  “Hello, Rhea. You’re looking very smart, as always.”

  “Thank you, Richard. You’re looking very yourself.”

  He didn’t smile. Instead, he looked out over the crowds with a thoughtful, proprietary air. “A good turn-out, Rhea. Most of the town’s here tonight.”

  “I should hope so,” said Rhea. “This is Carnival, after all. One of the few times in the year we all get to let our hair down, and allow our neuroses to run free. A night like this does more to help people than a dozen sessions on a psychiatrist’s couch. But then, you don’t believe in frivolous things like having a good time, do you?”

  “Not when I’m the one who has to keep the peace and clean up the mess afterwards. I’m the one who has to keep an eye on the drunks and the creeps and the troublemakers, and keep the paranormals from settling old scores. Hell, half the community are still carrying hurts and grudges from before they came here, and with the town’s magic running loose and wild tonight, that’s like throwing fireworks into an open fire. Carnival’s a dangerous time to be walking around with an open mind. You never know who might walk in.”

  Rhea shrugged. “We’ve had this conversation before, Richard, and no doubt will again. We’re both right, and we’re both wrong, but then, that’s Shadows Fall for you. But whatever we say or think, celebrations like Carnival are necessary. They’re a safety valve, a mostly harmless way of letting off steam before the pressure gets too great. You worry too much, Richard. The town is quite capable of looking after itself.”