Shadow Dancer

by Krysta Scott

  “You need to calm down, fella. It don’t matter what he called you. You struck first and that’s exactly what I’ll tell the guards when they show up. Now sit the fuck down.”

  “Asshole.” Parker spit a mouthful of blood at them and sank back down onto his cot. Ignoring the blood still dripping from his shattered nose, he leaned his head back against the wall. He was tired of following orders, but he wasn’t feeling so empowered now. His fatigue was made worse by his bewilderment. No one had come for him as promised. Where was his fucking attorney, anyway? Why wasn’t there someone to defend him?

  The only one who cared about him was Lori, and she’d been taken away by that crazy bitch. Amy was always playing the victim, just like now. Being all pitiful and weak. Everyone feeling sorry for her. No one cared how any of this affected him. Now Lori was further away than ever. It would be different if he could touch her mind the way his kind could but his suffocating parents prevented him from that long ago. They said it was for the best, but the truth was, they were scared of him. As a child, he’d been powerful. More powerful than the adults of the Guild. They had all feared him, and now look at him. But he would show them all. He smiled grimly. It was only a matter of time.

  Then he could be with his Lori as it should have been all along. A father should know his daughter in the true sense. Not even the father-daughter bond they shared could satisfy him. It should be more. So much more. What if she thought he had abandoned her? He couldn’t do that to his sweet child. He wouldn’t do that. He held out his arm and scratched a wide groove into his flesh. Blood trailed the line, mixed with the blood dripping from his nose. He ignored the pain. It was the good kind. Pain with a purpose. Like his mom said when she described giving birth. His cell mates didn’t come near him as he completed his work. Yeah, now you get it. He made another slash in his flesh, then another, until Lori’s name was carved into his arm. He hoped it would leave a good scar, so Lori would know he hadn’t left her.

  Chapter Four

  Nikki pushed through the entrance of the juvenile shelter and walked over to the front desk. Marilyn, the receptionist, smiled as Nikki approached. Her frizzy red hair fell in haphazard curls barely contained by her headband. “Good afternoon, Nikki. Which child are you seeing today?”

  “Lori Hanover.” Nikki leaned into the counter, taking a few short breaths to slow her respiration. “I phoned ahead. She should be waiting.”

  Marilyn held up a finger and punched some numbers. “Hi, Nancy, Nikki is here to see the Hanover child. Umhmm. Right.” She hung up and smiled at Nikki. “She’s waiting in room ten.”

  “Thanks.” Nikki waited to be buzzed in, and then headed in the direction of the room. Just before she arrived at her destination, a high-pitched voice stopped her.

  “Hey, Nikki, could I have a word with you?”

  Nikki turned to face the elementary dorm supervisor. “Yes, Valerie?”

  “I know you’re visiting with the Hanover child today.” She lowered her voice and ducked her head conspiratorially. “Some strange things have happened since Lori was placed here.”

  “Really?” Nikki inhaled deeply. Valerie was prone to exaggeration. To her, a small tiff over not getting a turn on a swing would be perceived as a violent brawl. What could Lori have done in the twenty-four hours she had been here to merit this kind of concern?

  “Yes, I mean, it’s really weird.” Valerie couldn’t quite meet her gaze. Did she feel guilty or was she trying to hide something?

  “Ok…”

  “The girls in her dorm were all complaining that some of their stuff was missing. It was little things, like a headband, barrette, and plastic bracelet. You know, things like that. Every single child, other than Lori, was missing something. When the dormitory was searched, the items were found underneath Lori’s pillow.”

  “I see.”

  “But that’s not the strangest part” Valerie placed her hand on Nikki’s arm. “Lori said they were hers. Because it was late, the night supervisor said they needed to go to bed and we would resolve the matter in the morning. She made explicit notes so that we could deal with the situation during the day shift. But when the girls were questioned, they all said it was a mistake. Claimed they had given Lori the items. What makes matters even more bizarre, the girls are very well behaved and cooperative with each other. There hasn’t been an outburst all day.”

  Nikki wasn’t sure how to digest this news. One minute, Lori was stealing from her dorm mates and the next instant, they were bestowing gifts upon her. Certainly strange behavior. But what really struck her as odd is that Valerie felt it important to divulge this information. It might be unusual for children here to get along well, but maybe they were just having a good day. “Are you sure the night supervisor got the story right?”

  “We checked with her. She is adamant the girls were upset. I thought you should know, since you’re seeing her today.”

  “I’ll talk to her about it.”

  “Thank you.”

  Nikki proceeded down the hall and opened the door to room ten. At least this time they’d put Lori in the more kid friendly room. As much as it could be with a wallpaper apple tree fraying at the edges and blue butterflies with missing wings dotting the wall. Long purple and orange crayon lines scribbled across the surface marring what was supposed to be a picturesque picnic scene.

  Lori looked up and smiled. Dressed in tan shorts and a t-shirt speckled with pink and red hearts, she could have been waiting for the school bus instead of court personnel. So much childhood had been robbed from her and yet she beamed as if she were actually having a picnic. “Nikki, they tell me I get to stay here for a while.”

  Nikki took the chair across from her. “That’s true. The Judge thought that it might be a good idea for someone to check out the homes of your grandparents and aunt.”

  Lori pulled the ends of a lock of hair over her mouth but said nothing. Her eyes were brighter than last night. Her hair was combed and pulled back by a headband. She didn’t tense at the news, but also didn’t seem interested in talking about what happened in court.

  “Could you tell me,” Nikki said. “Why you want to stay here?”

  Lori tilted her head and looked her straight in the eyes. “Because I’m safe here,” she said, then began blowing at her hair.

  “Why don’t you feel safe with your grandparents?”

  Lori stopped messing with her hair. She folded her legs in front of her and wrapped her arms around them. Resting her head on her knees, she peered keenly at Nikki. “They’re bad people.”

  “What makes them bad?”

  “I don’t know. I just can’t trust them.”

  “Why?”

  Lori rolled her eyes and sighed. “Look, they just can’t know me okay?”

  “They don’t get to see you?”

  She slammed her hand down on the table. “Noooo. They get to see me, they just can’t know me.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You would if you were my mom.” Her voice caught, and she swiped at a tear. Her feet abruptly touched the floor. Her head dropped into her hands, and she peeked through them. “They just can’t know me, okay?”

  “It’s okay.” Nikki nodded at the perplexing child. She didn’t want this ordeal to be any harder on Lori than it had to be. But, she wasn’t sure how to read between the lines. The play on words was significant to this child. To Nikki, it was as meaningless as gibberish. She decided to take another tack. “What about your aunt?”

  At the mention of her aunt, Lori’s mouth drooped. “She can’t keep me safe. She’s my mom’s step-sister. She’s not blood.” Lori’s blue eyes were serious.

  “She doesn’t have to be a blood relative for you to go live with her.”

  Lori took on a ‘you really don’t get it’ expression. “Oh, yes she does. Or else she can’t protect me.”

  “From what?”

  “I can’t tell you. It’s a secret, but it’s bad. Really bad.” Her whisper sent
a skittered chill up Nikki’s spine.

  ****

  That night, Garrett sank into bed with a shroud of guilt hanging over him. He knew he should have gone to see Parker Hanover today. What stopped him? It wasn’t like he hadn’t dealt with clients of his ilk before, but a dark inkling niggled at him like an itch he couldn’t reach. That itch took the shape of Nikki Angelus. It wasn’t just her silky black hair and bottle green eyes that held his attention. Power lurked beneath her passionate exterior. A power so compelling it reached into his soul and exposed him as a fraud. She threw him off his stride, and it bothered him more than he cared to admit, or had time to deal with. It was imperative to return things to their natural order before he lost his edge.

  He lay down, holding Sam’s and Nikki’s business cards. Talismans of sorts. They were his gateway to restoring the balance. But who should he visit first? In truth, he was anxious to get into Nikki’s head, but it struck him as rude. An odd enough notion since he entered people’s minds on a daily basis. Even so, his instincts urged him to deal with Sam before Nikki. Besides wouldn’t Sam’s mind be the easiest to manipulate? He’d go there first, then he would be able to turn his full attention to Nikki.

  He lifted Sam’s card, allowed the first wave of sleep to catapult him into Sam’s mind. The usual stretch expanded his mind outward, creating a sense of nausea as he floated in a formless vacuum. A crack propelled him forward until he was outside his own body. He hovered over his sleeping form. A glowing silver line of energy extended from his spiritual form down to his physical body, connecting the two, so even in separation they were one.

  Garrett searched for the slip stream that would lead him into Sam. He squinted, as if his eyes were still in corporeal form and waited for the astral world to take shape. He crouched, ready for the tingle and the white undulating river of light to reveal itself. When it appeared, he dove into it, swimming at first until its force pulled him into the undertow. He pulsed through the metaphysical torrent until he smacked against the barrier of Sam’s mind. The impact was softer than most. That was a good sign.

  He retrieved the astral image of Sam’s card to slice a slit from the top of Sam’s psyche to the bottom. The motion was smooth. The membrane offered no resistance. Garrett stepped through and, as he suspected, Sam’s mind was pretty straightforward. There was no myriad of doors for him to choose from like he often found in the most guarded minds. Instead, there was one door at the end of a corridor.

  Only one option.

  One choice.

  One path into the center of Sam’s psyche. Garrett smiled at how easy his task would be. He pushed open the door and entered Sam’s consciousness.

  Images of Sam’s life flashed past. Riding his tricycle as a boy. Accepting a Boy Scout patch for mastering the art of tying a tourniquet. As an adolescent, shyly approaching a young girl with blonde hair, terrified of her rejection, instead she smiled. Later, standing with his right hand raised, taking the oath of an attorney while his mother wept in a sea of other parents. Garret chuckled. Sam passed the bar by a nose.

  Garrett slid past Sam’s images of youth, finding more recent memories. In some, Sam got a guilty verdict for his client with a sentence of life without parole. Glancing back at his client’s family weeping in the gallery, remorse at not being able to do a better job misting his eyes. His adrenaline rush at successfully winning another client a judgment of alimony when everyone told him he wouldn’t get a dime. With reluctant admiration, Garrett acknowledged these experiences mirrored his own.

  Jury trials were the worst. So many people to influence, but Sam succeeded without Garrett’s special brand of power. Garrett envied Sam’s triumph. Could Garrett have won his trials with no ability other than an acute mind and quick tongue? Sam’s was not the strongest mind he had encountered, but there was more to him than first impressions indicated.

  When Garrett reached Sam’s memory of the hearing before Judge Weatherly, he carefully monitored Sam’s mood as the events of the day played out. Sam’s nervousness as he discussed the case with Nikki. How could he convince the Judge that his client wasn’t as bad as his opponent would make her? She wasn’t really a stripper, but she did tend bar at a strip joint where methamphetamines were consumed for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Not the optimal situation to expose a child to, even when it was a parent instead of an aunt who wanted custody. But his client wouldn’t necessarily take the child around these people. Then again, everyone knew that the people you work with often times show up at your doorstep unannounced or by invitation.

  Sam’s nerves spiked as he approached the bench where the judge put a period to his angst by rendering judgment. Garrett took note of the anxiety and filed it away for future reference should he encounter Sam again. But he didn’t need to manipulate this emotion to gain the advantage. The moment Garrett needed to see came after the judge ordered the parties to submit to a home study. Sam was surprised by this turn of events, and it took several minutes for him to absorb the shock of the decision, as well as the ramifications. Relief folded around the older man like a blanket, turning his agitation into bliss. He hadn’t lost. A surge of pride followed. Then he realized his client had limited funds. The agitation burned nipping at his fingers like a bunch of fire ants. There was no way his client could afford a home study. Then another miracle, the judge ordered DHS to foot the bill. He wasn’t sure how his client would fare under the scrutiny, but at least she had a chance.

  Garrett seized his opportunity. Pulling at the fabric of this memory, he extracted the necessary parts to twist them around. Your client will buckle under the pressure of this investigation, he began. DHS won’t pay for the home study. She will take out a loan but be unable to pay it back quickly enough. She will be forced to work longer hours impacting her ability to care for the child consistently. Constantly worried, she will show up late for work, then begin missing full days with no phone calls. Her boss will fire her. All because she fought against the Hanovers. Fine upstanding people who only want what’s best for little Lori. They will end up with custody, and your client will be worse off. Do the right thing. Back out of the case.

  He smiled, shoving the tendril of guilt at crushing the work of a good man. Truth was, Sam had little hope of actually winning this case. Garrett was just speeding up the process. It was the perfect adjustment. Subtle with no hint of interference. Satisfied with his work, Garrett returned to his physical body for the next round. It was time to prepare for Nikki.

  ****

  In the darkness of his bedroom, Sam Carr tossed and turned in his sleep, unable to let go of the events of the day. For one thing, there was no guarantee his client could pass a home study. What if she couldn’t handle the financial pressure? She could even begin to overcompensate by working longer hours. That wouldn’t end well. She could lose her chance at custody, even lose her job. The more Sam contemplated, the more he was convinced he’d sent his client in the wrong direction. A direction that would eventually ruin the girl’s life. Hell, she was only twenty. How could he have done such a thing? Hadn’t he sworn to protect his clients? He had to get her out of the ditch he had dug for her. But how?

  After wrestling with the issue, the solution finally came to him. He would convince his client to drop the case. Then she wouldn’t have to lose everything. Yes, that was what he would do. Decision made, he fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

  ****

  After a long, hard day, Nikki looked forward to the bliss of sleep. However, she found herself grappling with what to do with Lori’s rag doll. The toy had been entrusted to her care and it seemed disrespectful not to have a specific place to put it. The night before, Nikki placed her at the foot of the bed. She’d been too tired to think of anything else but sleep. Tonight, she wondered if she should put it with the rest of her ragdoll collection on the window seat in her bedroom.

  Since Cassie’s death, Nikki had purchased a rag doll on the anniversary of her sister’s birthday each year. She now had one of every type.
The Christmas doll, the anniversary doll, the patent doll, the city doll, the country doll, and so on. There were sixteen. It might be all right to put Lori’s doll with them. It wasn’t as if Lori’s doll would get lost among them. Nikki’s dolls were in mint condition. Not a hair out of place, no rips, tears, no smudges of affection.

  Rags was, well, a child’s beloved plaything, unlike the shrine of dolls Nikki collected in Cassie’s memory.

  It didn’t seem right for Rags to join them. She wasn’t a tribute to a dead girl. Lori might be in trouble, but she was very much alive. Unlike Cassie long ago, Nikki could help Lori. She could make sure this child was well cared for in a safe home. At least, she hoped she could, and that potential was enough to convince her to place Rags somewhere of her own.

  After much deliberation, Rags ended up on the nightstand. Nikki looked at the doll’s unwavering smile of trust. I will protect her, she promised Rags just before she fell asleep.

  ****

  Garrett lay on his bed with Nikki’s business card clutched between his fingers. He forced himself to relax, and willed his mind and ghostly body to rise into the slip stream and pass through. A shiver of anticipation shuddered down his spine at the thought of his destination, but he shook it off as the excitement of bringing yet another matter to a finish. What else could it be?

  Nikki’s psyche was thicker and tougher to slice, but he had her card. Even if she knew what he was doing, she didn’t possess the ability to deny him access. After a long grueling moment, he was through the unusually solid mental barrier. Twelve doors greeted him. More than he expected. How had one so young amassed so many compartments when people twice her age had less? What sort of trauma had she endured that required that many blockades? He found them compartmentalized in a series of events, and now he had to choose the right one to enter.

  But where to begin?

  The doors were arranged in a semi-circle. They were not scattered like most minds. Her sub-conscious had lined them up in order of significance. But did that mean youngest to oldest or least important to most important?