by Amir Lane
“If it makes you feel any better, I get freaked out by mirrors. And photographs. And dolls. Basically, things that look like people but aren’t actually people.”
The glare suggested that it did not make him feel any better.
Dieter fell back asleep on the couch. Hisses and almost imperceptible tugs on his clothes pulled him in and out of consciousness. He dismissed it as a dream. The risk of sleep paralysis kept him from opening his eyes until Aldo’s roar made his body jolt upright.
Aldo stared just above Dieter’s head, his teeth bared in a horrifying snarl. Dieter wished he hadn’t drunk that water. But a scrape of sharp, cold claws across his neck and an inhuman shriek made him suspect he wasn’t the one Aldo was ready to pounce on. He forced himself to twist around, but there was nothing there anymore.
He saw Lenna jump over the railing from the corner of his eyes, landing with a kind of precision that almost rivalled her Familiar. If Dieter wasn’t too preoccupied with not vomiting, he might have been impressed.
“What happened?” Lindy asked from the top of the stairs, brandishing a bow and arrow.
“I was—Wait, where did you get that?”
Lindy shrugged and motioned with the drawn arrow for an answer.
Dieter swallowed a few times. He didn’t think his heart would ever slow down. Deep breathing didn’t do much to ease the tightness in his chest.
“He—I don’t know—”
Lenna crouched next to Aldo, leaning in close to him. She touched her hand to the top of his head and jumped back.
“Jesus Christo,” she breathed, making a sign of the cross across her bare chest.
“What?” Lindy asked.
Lenna laughed anxiously and fingered the silver cross that hung from the matching chain around her neck.
“Christo,” she repeated. “No wonder you’re always so fucked up. What the fuck—?”
She cut herself off and pressed her forehead to the wall. Aldo curled up around her legs.
“Dieter… Dieter, you’re bleeding,” Lindy said. “Your neck.”
“What?”
Dieter had assumed that the hot dampness was sweat. Wiping it with his fingers, he saw that it was definitely not sweat. He took the stairs as quickly as he could and locked himself in the bathroom.
“I’m calling a goddamn priest,” he heard Lenna shout. “I will not calm down! You calm down! I am calm!”
Blood originated from the long scratches on the side of Dieter’s neck. He shuddered once and doubled over the toilet.
The Shadows weren’t supposed to be real. And even if they were, they weren’t supposed to be able to hurt him. But the blood staining the collar of his shirt said otherwise.
THE SHADOWS were real. They were real, and they could hurt him. Two days later and the scratches on his neck still stung when he showered, reminding him of that fun little fact more often than he’d like.
Music and alcohol thrummed through his veins, drowning out anything that wasn’t the feeling of Sandra’s breasts pressed against his chest. Even Lindy’s insistence that he call Ekkehardt, which was nothing short of apocalyptic in itself, was forgotten. His mouth moved against Sandra’s, his fingers slipping up her shirt. He was vaguely aware of people moving around him. His thumb brushed over the edge of Sandra’s bra.
“Your housemates home tonight?” he asked.
“Devon is, but he won’t notice us. It’s video game night.”
Dieter hummed and dipped his head down to nip at her ear. His free hand found its way into her hair.
There wasn’t really much between them that wasn’t physical. They ran together, had a couple classes together, and they fucked every now and then. It was fun. That was all.
He wondered how angry the host—some guy on the track team—would be if they fucked in the bathroom. Considering Dieter had seen him shooing away a couple on the couch two drinks ago, he figured it would be somewhere between pretty and very.
Sandra kissed the spot just shy of the scratches. The gentle tenderness of it sent warmth through Dieter’s body.
The song changed, and someone tapped on Sandra’s shoulder.
“Mind if I cut in?” a man asked.
The voice made Dieter think of a cello. It was unfamiliar, but it only took a moment to place the face through the haze of lust and alcohol.
“It’s you!” he said dumbly.
“It is me.”
An amused smile played at the brunette’s lips.
Sandra looked back and forth between them as if trying to place who they were to each other. Her expression was hard but there was no way she was jealous. She pressed a firm, almost possessive kiss to his lips. He couldn’t help but moan into it. Okay, maybe she was a little jealous.
“Come find me when you’re done,” she said, walking over to where Laurie Mills and Emily Lisgar were.
The man stepped into the space Sandra had occupied. He was taller than Dieter, closer to Lenna’s height than his.
“It’s you,” he repeated, shouting over the music. “You’re the guy with the Shadows.”
Warm lips brushed his ear. Dieter’s eyes slipped shut, his mouth falling open.
“Why don’t we go outside where it’s quiet?” the man suggested.
Dieter nodded and followed him out of the house. A backwards glance showed Sandra fully engaged in her conversation.
“What’s your name?” Dieter asked as soon as the door clicked shut behind them.
He could still hear the music playing.
They weren’t the only ones outside despite the approaching chill. There was an empty spot on the kerb. The man sat down and motioned for Dieter to do the same. The concrete was freezing. It was more than enough to quell the heat that had been growing in the pit of his stomach.
“My name’s Alistair.”
Dieter repeated the name, heavy on the last syllable.
“I’m Dieter,” he said.
“I like it. German?”
Dieter hummed in affirmation.
Alistair offered out a bottle of water. Dieter took it, checking the seal before cracking it open and taking a drink. His mouth was disgustingly dry.
“Someone told me you were schizophrenic. I’m taking it you don’t tell people you’re a Sensitive?” Alistair said.
Dieter shrugged, and then laughed.
“I didn’t even know that I was a Sensitive, or whatever, until a few days ago.”
“It doesn’t run in your family?”
Dieter shook his head.
“Not that I know of. But we aren’t close.” Dieter looked over at him, crinkling the water bottle in his hands. “I’ve seen you watching me.”
“I—Yeah, I was,” Alistair admitted, his shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry if Abaddon scared you.”
Dieter frowned in confusion.
Alistair rotated his wrist, and two Shadows materialised under the streetlight. They were twisted in ways that wouldn’t be possible for any human. The one on the left stared in a familiar way.
“Holy fuck, that’s—”
Dieter covered the side of his neck, standing quickly and falling back down.
Alistair inched closer, holding his hands up with open palms.
“Hey, relax. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for him to do that. It won’t happen again, I swear.”
“Why did it hurt me?”
“I don’t know. I guess being so close to another Necromancer messed with my control over him.”
Dieter shook his head again.
“I’m not a Necromancer.”
Alistair’s eyes widened, and he straightened up.
“You aren’t? Why not?”
“First of all, I literally thought I was schizophrenic until last week. I’m still taking medication for it.”
“Is that safe?”
“You have two Shadows—spirits—on call. Safe is kind of relative.”
Abaddon rushed forward but stopped suddenly as if unable to continue. He pressed against an invis
ible barrier, shrieking.
“Leave him alone,” Alistair ordered, his voice dropping in pitch.
The Shadow rotated his head and pulled back to join the other.
“It doesn’t like me,” Dieter said, snorting.
“Abaddon doesn’t like anyone. Spirits usually don’t.”
Dieter pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. He gave himself a moment to take it all in. It was a lot.
Alistair’s hand settled on his back, rubbing soft circles. He relaxed into the warm pressure with a soft hum.
“So who’s the other one?” he asked before taking another drink of water.
“She’s Abigail.”
“You’re kidding.”
Alistair shook his head.
“Is that their real names? Or did you name them?” Dieter asked.
“I named them. You have to give them names to bind them to you.”
“Why would you want to do that? Why would you possibly want a Shadow?”
Abigail’s wailing joined the screeching. If all Shadows didn’t sound like that, Dieter would have thought they were in pain. But then, maybe they were. The thought made him shudder.
“Why not? Not all Sensitives have this kind of ability. You can’t imagine what kind of control you have with them. Why wouldn’t you take advantage?” Alistair asked.
“Because they’re terrifying, that’s why.”
The answer came without hesitation.
“Not when you can control them. Watch. Abaddon, bring me another beer.”
The command sounded a bit stiff. Maybe Alistair wasn’t used to ordering them out loud.
Abaddon thinned out and reappeared moments later with an unopened beer, presenting it to Alistair. His neck seemed broken, his head hanging loosely and facing Dieter.
Dieter had never been more thankful in his entire life for the fact that Shadows had no faces.
Alistair held the bottle out to Dieter, shrugging when he refused it.
“What do they look like to you?” Dieter asked.
“You know when you rub your eye really hard and you get those white spots everywhere? That’s pretty much what I see. What do you see? Shadows?”
“Yeah. That’s why I call them that.”
“Makes sense.”
Dieter laughed. He felt fairly more sober than he was before. The cold and the water had done wonders in that regard.
“Hey.”
Dieter twisted and looked up to find Sandra standing behind them. Someone had braided her hair. It wasn’t holding.
“Hey,” he said back.
“It’s getting late, I’m planning on heading home. You coming?”
Her eyes were fixed on Alistair, though. It was hard to see her expression in the dark.
“Yeah. I can’t feel my ass anymore,” he said. “If—If that’s okay with you?”
Alistair nodded with a warm, easy smile. He stood first and helped Dieter to his feet.
Sandra wrapped her arms around Dieter’s shoulders and pulled him down into a kiss. Her mouth tasted like vodka and carbonated water. She pulled back with a smile that only made him feel more breathless.
“Can we maybe talk later?” he asked, tipping his head toward Alistair.
“Yeah, for sure. I’ll text you.”
Despite Sandra’s solid grip on his arm, Alistair dipped his head down and pressed a chaste kiss to Dieter’s mouth. Heat spread across Dieter’s cheekbones, the flush deepening when Sandra kissed him again.
IT WAS always so easy to fall into bed with Sandra with alcohol thawing his veins. Devon hadn’t so much as acknowledged their entrance as they all but fell over each other on their journey up the stairs to her bedroom. The warmth of her skin burning against his almost made him want to cry.
Sleep came even easier after they’d thoroughly exhausted themselves. More than one used condom lay in or around the trash can, even with Sandra’s birth control pills on the bedside table. She’d taken one before falling asleep and nearly vomited, insisting they always made her feel that way. Dieter had only hummed, thinking of his own pills at home.
It wasn’t like he’d never skipped a dosage before. It could have been disastrous but he’d been fine so far. Still, he had a memo on his phone to sit down with a doctor. Lindy kept telling him that cold turkey was a bad idea. He hadn’t gotten into the habit of ignoring her yet.
Morning came too soon for Dieter’s taste. As much as he would have liked to stay curled up around Sandra’s warm body, he had work today. Overpriced coffees weren’t going to pour themselves. He kissed her cheek and tugged his clothes on.
He found Devon downstairs. They’d only ever spoken once before. If the dark bags under his eyes were any indication, he’d been up all night playing video games.
“So, you and Sandra?” Devon asked.
“Yeah.”
It wasn’t as if they’d tried to keep it a secret.
“Huh. Why did I think you were gay?”
Dieter straightened up, having fished his boots from under the couch.
“I don’t know,” he said, “because you’re a presumptive asshole?”
It was too early for this.
Devon actually seemed to mull it over as a valid response. Or maybe he’d fallen asleep standing at the counter. Dieter wasn’t sure.
“You know, you might be right. Coffee?” Devon finally said.
“No, I’m good.”
Not wanting to prolong the already uncomfortable conversation, Dieter slipped outside to the bus stop at the end of the street. He flashed his student card at the driver when he finally showed up, six minutes late, and got off a few blocks from his house. It wasn’t a bad walk, even if it was a little chilly. He got back later than he intended to.
“Morning,” Lenna said as he walked in.
She was sitting on the floor between Lindy’s feet while Lindy French braided her hair.
“Morning,” he said, running up the stairs.
Dieter barely noticed the Shadows. They were there, same as always. But he felt too good and he was in too much of a rush to pay them any attention.
For the first time in his life, someone else could see them.
Alistair could see them. Alistair, who controlled spirits. Alistair, who wasn’t just a Sensitive, but an actual Necromancer.
This was way out of Dieter’s comfort zone. He was far from ready to consider Necromancy, of all things. It wasn’t something people just did. Dieter was pretty sure it was even illegal. It sounded like something that would be illegal.
A scheduling mix-up forced Dieter to work through his break and later than he wanted to. It wasn’t until just after five that he finally had a chance to sit down with an absurdly expensive muffin and coffee, and check his phone. There were responses to several drunk text messages, and one messages from an unknown number.
‘This is Alistair,’ it read.
Dieter saved the number in his contacts under Alistair’s first name, leaving the last name blank for now. Tucking his phone into his back pocket to enjoy his very late lunch, Dieter wondered when he’d given Alistair his number.
ALISTAIR’S HANDS were large on Dieter’s hips and spotted with pinpoint marks. There was an outline of muscle beneath his skin, not jutting out, but definitely there. His skin was mostly smooth, interrupted by the periodic pull of one scar or another. His high cheekbones made his dark eyes look sunken. It was almost unnerving, how wide his eyes were. He raised a dark eyebrow as Dieter traced a finger over his lips. He wasn’t handsome, exactly, but from this angle…
“Amusing yourself?” he asked lightly as Dieter continued to study his body with a mental checklist.
“Thoroughly. I want to remember what you look like,” Dieter said.
“This won’t be the last time you see me.”
Dieter smiled and pressed a kiss to Alistair’s chest.
“I know,” he said, “but I don’t remember faces well.”
“We could take a picture,” Alis
tair suggested.
“What, like this?”
“I don’t see why not.”
Dieter laughed brightly. It was easy to laugh with Alistair keeping the Shadows at bay, a fairly major advantage to being a Necromancer. He reached over to grab his phone from where he’d tossed it just next to his bed. He was pretty sure that this wasn’t part of the plan when he’d invited Alistair over to talk spirits. But Dieter was a team player, not a complainer. And Alistair was a great kisser.
Dieter leant back against the pillow, pressing up against Alistair’s side and opening the front camera. They shifted to both get in the shot.
“Smile!”
The shutter went off, and the picture flashed across the screen.
“Let me see?”
Dieter handed Alistair the phone.
“So do you usually take post-sex selfies with guys you barely know?” Alistair asked.
His voice was light and teasing, but there was an edge to it that Dieter might have wondered about if he wasn’t too busy tucking himself under Alistair’s arm. They exchanged a few slow kisses. Dieter sighed against Alistair’s lips.
“Just the ones who get those fucking Shadows out of my room,” he said.
“If I show you how to do it,” Alistair said slowly against Dieter’s mouth, “will you still have a use for me?”
“I can think of a couple.”
Dieter grinned and walked his fingers up Alistair’s thigh. He wasn’t sure that he was ready to talk about the Shadows yet. Yes, that was why Alistair was here. But there was no reason they couldn’t mess around a bit more first. He was in no rush.
Alistair leant into the first kiss but pulled away from the second.
“I brought some books for you. I don’t need them anymore. They’ll help you develop your skills.”
For a moment, Dieter was taken aback. It was the first time anyone actually seemed to know what to do to help him. Sure, Ekkehardt tried and Lindy tried harder. But they could only help with medication and therapy, just like the doctors, just like everybody else. They couldn’t keep the Shadows away.
“I don’t really have any ‘skills’. Not like what you’re talking about,” Dieter said. “I just see the Shadows.”