by S. A. Hunter
"To! I didn't get to see a single toe tag. It's such a bummer."
Mary rolled her eyes. She really didn’t understand Rachel’s fascination with dead people.
"Mary, if you need help or anything, give me a call, okay? I mean it," Kyle said.
She nodded her head and got on the elevator. "Thanks, Kyle. I will if anything comes up."
"Bye, Kyle. Good seeing you," Rachel said as the doors closed.
"What floor, please?"
Mary snorted to herself.
"What?" Rachel asked.
She shook her head. "We're going to the lobby."
"What? Oh! Is it the elevator ghost?"
"It's gone."
"Yeah, it's no longer at the hospital."
"Good."
"No, it's not good! It's still out there, and it's going to hurt other people."
"Get rid of it."
"How?!"
The ghost was quiet. God, he was useless. She shook her head and stared at the floor.
"So you, Gran, and Mr. White still don't know how to get rid of the Shadowman?"
"Mr. White thinks we can use a ghost, but I don't know how."
"Chowder?" Rachel sounded worried for the spectral dog.
"No, someone else. He likes to be called Max. Anyway, he's supposed to help get rid of the Shadowman, but no one knows how that's supposed to work. I mean the Shadowman hung out in a hospital that's full of ghosts. If ghosts are so dangerous to it, why stay here?"
"Stayed away."
"What?"
"Stayed away from us. Didn't come near."
"Do you know how a ghost would defeat a Shadowman?"
There was no reply. Mary was seriously beginning to wonder if the ghost was trying to drive her crazy. Maybe it was an evil spirit who enjoyed infuriating people until they saw red.
"What's he saying?" Rachel asked.
Her look must have communicated the lack of communication because Rachel stepped back and looked down.
"I don't know why I bother. I tried to do the right thing. No, I DID the right thing, and I'm getting punished."
"Light hurts it. It flees. If it can't flee, light will kill it."
"How can we keep it from fleeing? It's a shadow. It can slip through vents and cracks."
"No, it can't."
"Yes, it can!"
The ghost didn't argue back, but her mind was already churning over his denial, trying to figure out why he had said that. She flashed on her window. It had been raised a few inches. She'd known the Shadowman had raised it, but why would it have had to raise it? It wasn't air tight. There was a seam, though small. And at the morgue, it was pushing the door open, not slipping through the crack.
"You know, this is as annoying as listening to someone talk on a cell phone."
"He said that the Shadowman can't slip through small cracks, and it can't go through doors. It can be trapped."
"Great, then what?"
"Then turn on the lights."
"So...how do we trap it?"
"We lure it with bait."
"Uh, Mary?"
The elevator doors opened, and she strode off with the beginnings of a plan forming in her mind. It was still very hazy, but a plan was coming together. She stopped mid-step, and Rachel ran into her.
"What now?"
Mary dashed back to the elevator and jammed the closing doors with a shoe. "Thank you. You've helped a lot. And sorry for being so rude to you."
"No worries, miss. It's all part of the job."
She wasn't sure what to make of that but nodded anyway and let the doors close.
"What are you planning?" Rachel asked.
"I don't know yet. Come on, I need to get home."
Her knee bounced the whole time she rode in the car. Now that she had a direction, a way to reach her goal, she was anxious to get it done. She'd been so morose about her prospects before, but now she was driven. The car hadn't come to a complete stop before she jumped out and ran up the steps to the house.
"Gran!" she shouted as she opened the door.
She hadn't needed to shout. Gran was waiting for her in the living room. Mary let her muscles relax. "Vicky's awake."
Gran perked up at the news. "That’s wonderful! How is she?"
She shrugged and dropped into the recliner. "She seemed pretty normal actually. She said to say thanks."
"Well, that's nice. It's good that she's okay."
"I also think we can defeat the Shadowman."
"And how's that?"
"We set a trap. If we can lure it into a room and shut it in, we can turn on a lot of light and kill it."
“That sounds more like a theory than a plan."
Her shoulders hunched a bit. "I don't have the particulars yet, but it's something to work with. We have to get rid of it."
Gran sighed and nodded. "I'll think about it, maybe come up with a few particulars."
She nodded back. "The room doesn't have to be air tight or anything, and Max can help us."
Gran nodded again but didn't reply. Mary could tell she was thinking, but she looked uneasy, too.
“Night, Gran."
"Good night, dear. Sweet dreams."
Mary went up to her room and closed the door. Lure it, trap it, and kill it. That's what she had to do. She had Max. It obviously knew where she lived, so she could tempt it into the house, but how would she trap it inside if it opened a window to slip in? Max? If she kept him sheathed until the Shadowman was there, she could unsheathe the sword to release him, and he could close the window. But what would happen while Max was covering the window? She had to be able to turn on a lot of lights quickly. The switch to the ceiling light was across the room. Her bedside lamp was too dim to do the job.
She fell asleep with every light burning in her room and a flashlight by her side. Max had told her that he'd keep vigil through the house. Still, she had trouble sleeping. Every hour she would start awake and look around the room.
The next day she shuffled down to the kitchen, following the smell of French toast. Gran turned from the stove to give her a smile.
"Good morning, dear."
Mary mustered a grunt. She poured herself a cup of coffee, but she was too tired to bother with cream or sugar. She slumped into her chair with the coffee sloshing over her hands. Gran set a plate of French toast in front of her. She drank what was left of the coffee first. It didn't rouse her at all. She poured syrup onto her toast and may have nodded off for a few seconds. Syrup was close to overflowing her plate when she set the bottle down. She wasn't even sure what day of the week it was. She clutched a slim hope that it was the weekend. She was way too tired to be allowed out in public.
The fact that Gran was standing at the stove finally registered. “You shouldn’t be on your feet,” she said.
“I’m doing fine.”
Since she didn’t have the strength to argue, she shoveled a large forkful of French toast into her mouth instead, then instantly regretted it. She was too tired to eat so much. She propped her head on her fist and dragged her fork through the syrup as she made herself chew. She began dozing off again.
"Mary, I'm keeping you home from school."
She blinked open her eyes and looked at Gran. She pushed her plate away and stood up to go back to bed.
"Aren't you going to finish?"
She weaved on her feet. "Too tired," she mumbled.
"Did you have a nightmare?"
"Never slept long enough to have one. I think I'll try sleeping now. Could you wake me up for lunch?"
Gran nodded and took her plate to the sink. She stumbled back up to her room and collapsed onto her bed. Maybe she could become a hardcore night owl until the Shadowman situation was resolved. She could stay up all night and catch up on her infomercials. She could find out how to get rich without really trying or discover a cleaning product that would change her life. It would be great.
When she woke next, it took her a moment to understand what was wrong. She knew somethi
ng wasn’t right. She blinked and realized that it was dark. She shot out of bed. She rushed across the room to the light switch and turned on the overhead light. The sudden illumination stung her eyes, but her heart started calming down in the light. She looked out her window to find it was full dark outside. She'd slept the entire day. She looked at the clock, and it was just after eight p.m. She went looking for Gran.
She'd expected to find her on the sofa, but the living room was empty. She called out to her. Silence was her answer. She checked the fridge for a note but didn’t find one. This wasn’t right. Gran should be here. She still couldn’t drive. And she wouldn’t have left Mary home alone and asleep in the dark.
The light was flashing on the answering machine. There were three messages. She pressed the play button, hoping to hear Gran’s voice giving her a sensible reason for why she wasn’t home.
“Helena, this is Zeke. I need you to call me. My number’s 555-5651.” The message was left at 10:30 a.m. Mary wondered if Gran had gone to see Mr. White, but, if so, why wasn’t she home yet?
Next was Rachel. “Mary, where are you, girl? Call me.” She waited tensely for the third message, hoping it would be Gran. Instead it was Mr. White again. "Helena, I hope you get this message. I'm worried. Call me."
She picked up the phone and dialed Mr. White’s number. It rang three times before he picked up. "Hello? Helena?"
"Mr. White, it's Mary. Have you heard from Gran?"
"No, where is she? What’s going on?"
"I've been asleep. Gran didn't wake me up, and she's gone. I don't know where she is."
“Are you at home? I’m coming over.”
“Okay. Why were you trying to reach Gran?”
“I’ll explain when I get there. Is Max with you?”
She closed her eyes and listened. She hadn’t heard a peep out of him and couldn’t sense him. “No, I don’t know.” Also where was Chowder?
She walked from the living room into the kitchen. “Chowder, where are you, boy?” she called.
“None of the ghosts are there?”
“I don't know. Neither of them--” Mary stopped when she heard a whimper. It was coming from Gran’s office. She made a beeline to it. When she swept the beads aside, she found everyone.
“Gran!”
“Mary, what is it?” Mr. White demanded.
Gran was slumped over the table. An overturned teacup was by her head. Chowder’s body was lying on the floor. There was a tear at his neck. A small pile of sawdust had leaked out. Max’s sword was sitting on the table. Mary went over to Gran and set the cordless down. She carefully pushed Gran into a sitting position and found she was breathing normally. She checked her pulse, which was strong and steady. “Gran, wake up.” She shook her gently, but she couldn’t rouse her.
She picked the phone up. “Gran won’t wake up. I need to call 911.”
“Mary, wait. It’s most likely the Shadowman. If we don’t stop him now, we might never get the chance. Wait for me.”
“Okay, please hurry.”
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
She hung up the phone and checked Gran again. She seemed unhurt. There weren’t any bumps on her head and no visible bruises, but she wouldn’t wake up. Had the Shadowman gotten her? And where was Max?
“Max!”
“Mary? Oh thank goodness, you’re awake!”
“Max, what happened to Gran?”
“The Shadowman. We were trying to vanquish it but-—Oh, your poor dog!”
Mary spared a glance for Chowder. She carefully let Gran slump back onto the table and crouched down by the small dog. “Chowder?” she asked softly. There was a soft whimper.
Tears ran down her face. He sounded like he was in pain. She carefully set his body upright and tried to pack a handful of sawdust back inside him. “You’re going to be okay, Chowder. I promise.”
“I’ve been holding back the fiend. Stay here with Helena. Have you called Ezekiel?”
“Yes, he’s on his way, but Max, wait—-” But he was gone. She held the bejeweled plastic sword close and put her hand on Gran’s shoulder. Her eyes swept over the table and landed once again on the overturned teacup. From this side of the table, she could see inside it. There was something at the bottom, and it didn’t look like loose leaves. She picked up the cup and brought it to her face. At the bottom were what appeared to be pieces of a crushed pill. She didn’t know what to make of it. Then the lights went out.
“Max!” The ghost didn’t answer. The only light now was the weak moonlight streaming in through the windows. But there were candles set up all around the room. No self-respecting medium could work without candles. Ambiance was very important. Mary grabbed a box of matches off the sideboard and began lighting them. She kept Max’s sword tucked under her arm. She hoped he showed back up soon.
She didn’t know what to do. The phone was dead now because of the power outage, Gran was still unconscious, Chowder was hurt, and Max was gone. She blew out the match after she lit the last candle. That was when the chittering began, just beyond the beaded curtain. She turned to face it and quickly moved candles to the central table to bring the light closer to Gran. His red eyes followed her every move. She was so frightened that her hands shook, spilling hot wax over her fingers, but she barely felt it. “Max!” She brandished the sword at the beaded curtain, and the Shadowman hung back.
“You certainly are a most resourceful and levelheaded girl.”
Mary’s heart leaped in relief. “Max, what happened? Are you all right?”
“Kind of you to inquire, but I am fine. You, though, do not appear to be faring well.”
“What are we going to do?”
“Wait, he’s coming in.”
Mary stumbled back, thinking he meant the Shadowman, but it hadn’t shifted from its spot behind the curtain.
From the front of the house, Mary heard the front door open. “Mary?” It was Mr. White.
“Mr. White, don’t come back here! The Shadowman’s here!” But her heart tripped as she listened to a shuffling gait moving toward her.
“Max, go help him!”
“He doesn’t need my help.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but it gaped instead as the candles began to go out one by one. The Shadowman hadn’t moved from beyond the beaded curtain. She fumbled with the box of matches to light them again, but the box jumped out of her hands. The matches flew every where.
“Max!”
“That’s enough, Mary. No need to keep screeching.” She turned back to the beaded curtain. The Shadowman moved aside, and Mr. White stepped through. Her hand came up and pointed at him, but she was speechless.
“Have a seat, girl. This shouldn’t take long.”
Chapter 13
Saying Goodbye
A chair scraped across the floor and hit the back of her knees. She sat with a thud. She stared incomprehensibly as Mr. White swept the beaded curtain aside and stepped into the room. The Shadowman stayed in the hall.
She had to ask because her brain refused to understand what was going on. “How come the Shadowman’s not attacking you?”
“It can’t.” Mr. White held up his hand, and a ring flashed blood red in the dim light. “It’s still tied to me, even if it can move independently, and if it wants to stay free, it attacks people and brings me their life force.”
“Why?”
“Terms of the contract. If it wants to be separate from me, it has to keep me supplied with life force. All shadows yearn to be free. Why do you think they stretch so far from us?”
“Your shadow? How is that possible?”
“Cut it off.”
“How?”
Mr. White gave her a withering look and held up his ring hand again.
“But why would you cut off your own shadow?” It sounded so wrong, like a deal with the devil.
“Self-preservation, of course. No one wants to die. I’m an old man, and don’t have many more years left. If I have any l
eft.”
“So was any of the stuff you told us true about Shadowmen or were you just stringing us along?”
“No, most of it was true. Shadowmen usually only take a little at a time on their own, but those are free-range ones. Mine had to take more than a little.”
She shook her head. She couldn’t believe how well he’d duped her and Gran, and what better place to set loose a Shadowman than in a hospital? No one would question someone dying there, except people who knew of things beyond the grave. She’d walked right into his scheme, and now he was going to kill her.
“You won’t get away with this.”
Mr. White began to chuckle, but the sound swiftly turned into a deep, racking cough that bent him over and forced him to gasp for breath. Still doubled over, he turned toward the Shadowman. “What are you waiting for? Take her.”
The Shadowman slipped past him and began drifting toward her. Between them came a growl.
“No, Chowder!”
The Shadowman stopped and stared at a point on the floor. Chowder snarled. The Shadowman jerked and began to thrash around.
“I say, he is a very strong, little dog.”
“Max, deal with him.”
Mary turned to grab Chowder’s body, but she was too slow. It rose from the table and was smashed against the edge. “No!” She reached out, but Mr. White grabbed her shoulders and held her back. Chowder's body rose and smashed down again, spraying them with sawdust.
Chowder gave a short tiny yelp and then was silent. A warm puff of air passed over her. It was Chowder's spirit passing. Her heart seized up.
Max set Chowder’s body down. The tear at his neck spanned his throat now, and a glass eye was missing. Any feelings of goodwill she still held for Max or Mr. White disappeared. She hated them then. Hated them a lot.
“Why did you do that? He was just a little dog!”
“He was in the way. Don’t worry. All dogs go to heaven, right?”
She turned back towards the Shadowman, which began to approach again. She still had Max’s sword clutched in both hands. As the creature reached out to her, she swung the sword upwards, slashing its hand. It felt like cutting Jell-O. The Shadowman jerked back with a screeching sound like grinding gears.