Shadow Keeper

by M. K. Yarbrough

  Oscar pressed his finger against his lips while nodding at the table. “Let’s wait until they’re finished.”

  Monica didn’t look happy. She crossed her arms and tapped the toe of her high heel on the tiled floor. Only a few seconds ticked by before the three men scooted back from the table.

  “People.” Oscar clapped his hands and waited until all eyes were on him. “Our guests of honor, and the reason for our little soirée, have arrived.”

  Introductions were made and Oscar finally let go of my arm so I could shake hands with the other guests.

  “This is the medium, Swami Bishop.” Oscar nodded to the short, slight man standing by the table.

  “Charles Bishop,” the man corrected. He seemed annoyed that Oscar joked about his avocation.

  I half expected him to be in costume like the other guests—maybe a turban and a robe decorated with zodiac symbols, but his black slacks and buttoned down shirt gave him a serious appearance.

  “You have an interesting aura.” Charles switched his wine glass to his left hand and offered his right. “Have you ever had your birth chart cast?”

  “Don’t believe so.” I took his outstretched hand.

  He dropped to his knees in front of me. The wine glass tumbled from his fingers and landed near my feet. The stem snapped from the goblet portion and red wine spilled onto the Spanish tiled floor. I grabbed him by his upper arms to help him up.

  “Get away,” he shouted. “Don’t touch me.”

  “I’m sorry.” I released him and took a step back. Lisa stood behind me and I bumped into her. She slipped her arm around my waist.

  The room turned silent as all eyes darted from me to the man on the floor. Oscar was the only one to react. He bent over Charles. “Is there something I can do?”

  “You can assist me in getting up.” Charles grabbed at Oscar’s arm. A man dressed like a vampire grabbed his other, and they hauled him from the floor. Charles managed to get his feet set under him, but his body swayed. He clung to Oscar and the vampire as he glared at me. “Who are you?” he asked in a tone that sounded like a demand.

  “Brendon Alexander,” I repeated, figuring he hadn’t caught my name.

  “I mean, what are you?”

  My jaw went slack. I wasn’t certain what he meant, so I gave the first answer that popped into my head. “I’m a football player in high school. I’ve been lifting weights. Guess I forget my strength.”

  Charles looked at Oscar like that was the craziest thing he’d ever heard. “Did you know about him? Is that why you invited him?”

  Oscar’s eyebrows rose. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Monica pushed the vampire aside and grabbed Charles’ arm. “Why don’t we go into another room so you can relax for a moment?”

  Oscar opened the French doors next to the table and led them into a room that appeared to be a formal dining room. Over his shoulder, he issued the vampire an order. “William, bring another glass of wine for Charles.”

  “All right, just as soon as I clean up this mess.”

  “I’ll do that.” Lisa grabbed several sheets of paper towels from the countertop. “You help Mr. Bishop.”

  I squatted next to the spilled wine and picked up the two halves of the glass. Lisa handed me the towels and I laid them over the spill. The red wine soaked through the white paper.

  Suddenly, crimson red blood gushed from the tiles and flooded the floor in front of me. I jumped to my feet and squeezed my eyes shut. This couldn’t be happening. When I opened them, only wine soaked paper towels lay near my feet.

  “Brendon!” Lisa grabbed my wrist and pried open my fingers.

  Broken pieces of glass covered my palm. The bloody sight must’ve caused my reflexes to clench my hand into a fist, shattering the goblet.

  She pulled me to the sink and rinsed away the shards with the gentle spray of water. Blood trickled from the small cuts and dripped on the bottom of the white sink. Broken bits of glass mingled with the red stained water and swirled down the drain.

  Some guy wearing a black mask and cape peered over my shoulder. “I don’t think that broken glass is very good for the garbage disposal.”

  “It’s not doing his hand any good either,” Lisa snapped.

  Zorro backed off without saying another word.

  She glanced at my face. “What are you laughing about?”

  “You. When I first met you, you seemed like such a shy, bashful little thing, but you’ve got a secret side to you. You almost bit off his head.”

  “All he was worried about was the stupid disposal.” From her tone, she hadn’t calmed down. “He wasn’t concerned at all about the cuts in your hand.”

  “It’s not too bad.” I rubbed my fingers over the palm, searching for any missed slivers of glass. When I didn’t find any, I squeezed my hand into a fist, then straightened my fingers. “See, no problem. I can still catch a football.”

  She grabbed more paper towels and blotted away the excess water. After she dried my hand, she continued to hold it. She gazed into my eyes while nibbling at her lip. “I don’t like it here. I’m going to find Mom and tell her I don’t want to stay. There’s something weird going on.”

  Silently, I agreed. Blood had gushed from the kitchen floor just before I’d cut my hand. Similar visions occurred in my dreams, but this was the first time I’d experienced them while wide awake. I didn’t want to alarm Lisa more than she already was, so I just nodded in agreement. “Your mom’s in the dining room. Let’s wait until she comes out.”

  Chapter Thirty–Five

  When Monica walked into the kitchen, Lisa rushed to her. “Mom, I don’t like it here. That man was too creepy. Can we please leave?”

  “We just got here.” She put her arm around Lisa’s shoulders and pulled her toward the side cabinets. “What you witnessed was upsetting, but there’s no need to overreact. Mr. Bishop apparently has a tendency for the theatrical.”

  “Brendon cut his hand, Mom. He may need a doctor.”

  “It’s nothing.” I held up my hand, showing them the damp flecks of blood on my palm. I wasn’t going to make Monica leave on my account. “The bleeding stopped, but I agree with Lisa. That guy is a little on the weird side.”

  “We can’t leave now.” Monica grabbed my wrist and pulled me into their circle. “Oscar went to a lot of trouble arranging this for me. It’s important that I have this séance with Mr. Bishop.”

  “But, Mom—”

  “Lisa baby, please.” Monica took a deep breath and let it out with a heavy sigh. “He may be able to discover what’s wrong with your father.”

  “Oh, Mom.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I don’t know that Daddy will ever get better.”

  “I can’t give up. Not yet.” She put one finger under Lisa’s chin and lifted her head. “Can you bear with me just a little longer?”

  She nodded. “This one last time. Okay?”

  Lisa caved, but I wasn’t so easily swayed. “Is this guy for real? Do you trust him?”

  “Oscar swears by him. He’s supposedly helped other people.”

  “All right, but Lisa is spooked enough. I don’t think she should go in there. Maybe I should stay out here with her?”

  “I need you in there with me, Brendon. I told Mr. Bishop about the dreams you’ve been having, and he thinks it’s connected to my husband’s illness.”

  Lisa’s head snapped around. Wide eyed, she stared at me. “What dreams?”

  “Nothing,” I said to calm her. “Just your typical monster under the bed dreams.”

  “You’ve been having scary nightmares?” Her hand stroked over my chest. “Are they like the ones you had of someone dragging me away?”

  She nailed me on that, but I tried to shrug it off to nothing important. “Dreams reflect our real fears. I guess I’m afraid of losing you.”

  “Oh, Brendon.” Both hands pressed against my chest as she leaned to me.

  “Oh, please.” Monica
thrust her body between us. “Are you coming into the séance, Brendon?”

  I glanced at each of the ladies in front of me. “I’ll go in, but I still think Lisa shouldn’t.”

  “I can’t very well leave her out here alone. Oscar is the only person I know, and he’ll be in the room with us.”

  “I can handle a séance.” Lisa’s voice turned firm. “I want to go in with you.”

  “I’m not sure I can handle it, so I don’t see how you can be so certain.” I changed my tone so it reflected the same firmness. “I don’t want you in the séance.”

  We stared each other down, neither flinching until Monica broke in. “Maybe you shouldn’t be in there, Lisa, but I do need Brendon.”

  “I am not a baby,” she said forcefully.

  Oscar joined our group. “Swami Bishop is ready for us.”

  “Lisa will not be attending the séance, but I don’t want to leave her alone.” She grabbed his arm and gave him a hard stare. “Is there anyone you trust well enough to stay with my daughter?”

  “Most definitely, darling. I’ll be right back.”

  “I wish you’d quit treating me like a little child. I don’t need anyone to look after me.”

  “I know, but just humor me on this, please.” She brushed at Lisa’s cheek.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Your makeup is too heavy here.”

  She pushed her mother’s hand away. “I needed to cover the bruise where Daddy…”

  “Mmm, right. The purple is gone and there’s just a yellow spot.” She brushed at Lisa’s chin. “You’re makeup’s too heavy here also.”

  “That’s for the zit that popped up.”

  “Oh, yes. You always get a couple of blemishes this time of the month.”

  “Mom!”

  Monica waved her hand at me. “He doesn’t understand what we’re talking about.”

  I wasn’t so ignorant about women that I didn’t know what they were discussing, but I pressed a bewildered look on my face. “What do you mean?”

  “Never mind,” they said at the same time.

  “Monica, darling.” Oscar held the arm of a very elderly woman dressed as a medieval princess. “You remember Mama.”

  “Mrs. Dubois.” Monica took both outstretched hands. “How nice to see you again.”

  “Monica, dear.” Mama Dubois teetered precariously as she leaned forward and planted a kiss on Monica’s cheek. “My son told me you need a babysitter for your lovely little girl.”

  I stood behind Lisa. When she let out a large huff, I put my hands on her shoulders and pressed my lips next to her ear. “I think you’ll be the one doing the babysitting.”

  Lisa giggled, but her laughter was cut short when Monica grabbed her arm and pulled her to the kitchen table. “Sit here and don’t move until I come out of that room.”

  Oscar slid out another chair. “Mama, you heard the orders. You stay right here with Lisa.”

  I slipped off my jacket and stuck it on the back of the chair where Lisa sat. After leaning over to give her a kiss, I followed Monica and Oscar into the dining room and pulled the French doors closed behind me.

  “Mr. Alexander.” Charles stood by a long table that probably seated about twenty people. He didn’t attempt to approach me. “You have an enormous amount of raw psychic energy. If you could control it, channel it, you could become a very powerful medium.”

  “Aw, shucks, I wanted to grow up to be a fireman.”

  Oscar was the only one in the group to snicker at my lame attempt to lighten the tenseness in the room. “What a dear boy.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me to the head of the table. “Have a seat.”

  I pulled out a chair on my left and waited for Monica to sit before I did. Oscar and the vampire took chairs on the right.

  Charles sat on the other side of Monica. “Mrs. Stratton told me you’ve had some sort of dreams concerning her husband. Have you ever experienced psychic visions prior to this?”

  “No. My dreams started the first day I met Lisa.”

  “Well, that explains it,” Oscar said. “A young, virile boy like you meets a sweet young girl and all sorts of hidden feelings surface.”

  “Oscar, please.” Monica pressed her fingers to her forehead and rubbed in tiny circles. “This is my daughter you’re talking about.”

  “Sorry, darling.”

  Charles ignored the interruption. “In your vision, Mr. Stratton asked you to protect his family?”

  “Yes, sir. Evidently, from a big, ugly rat of a man.”

  “Hmm.” Charles drummed his fingers on the white tablecloth. “Is that all he asked of you?”

  “That’s about it.” Kyle Stratton also asked me to kill him, but I wasn’t going to mention that bit of information.

  “But he did ask you for something else. Something significant.” Charles was right on target, but that didn’t prove his ability.

  Uncertain if he was a scam artist, I decided on a little test of my own. I might not learn anything, but I gave it a shot. “Do you sense any lost spirits wandering around in this house?”

  All eyes went from me to Charles. “No, I’ve already performed a spiritual cleansing on this house.”

  “Then why did I just have a vision of blood gushing from the kitchen floor where you dropped the wine glass?”

  Oscar and the vampire gasped in unison, but Charles looked dumbfounded. I pressed further. “Did somebody bleed to death in the kitchen?”

  “No one died.” Oscar had his fingers pressed against his mouth. “Someone was cut with a knife on that very spot. Stabbed, actually, by a jealous lover. He almost died before the paramedics got here.”

  “How did you know that?” William the vampire asked.

  “I saw the blood.”

  “Impossible. Oscar had it cleaned.”

  “Not dried blood. Fresh blood,” I clarified. “It squirted out of the tiles right where the wine had spilled.”

  “You read about it.” William’s white makeup flaked off around his eyes when he glared at me. “You researched this house before you got here.”

  “No,” Monica said. “He couldn’t have known. I never told him where we were going, and I never mentioned any names. He didn’t know anything about this house or what happened here.”

  “If no one died,” Charles said, “that would explain why I didn’t sense a spiritual presence lingering in this house.”

  Either Charles was good at covering all the bases, or his excuse was legitimate. I couldn’t tell. “Why don’t we just get on with the séance?” I suggested.

  “We will.” Charles glanced at Monica. “But before we begin, I want to see if I can divine a reading on Mr. Stratton. Do you have the items I requested?”

  Monica set her purse on her lap and fished out a plastic baggy. “You have no idea how difficult it was to get these. The lock of hair was easy enough, but I had to pay someone on the sly to draw a vial of Kyle’s blood.”

  William slouched back in his chair. “I’m bored. Do I really have to be here?”

  “Be nice.” Oscar battered at his arm. “This should be very titillating.”

  “I find it tedious.” William put his hand to his mouth to cover a fake yawn. “Won’t my negative vibes hamper the spirits from revealing themselves?”

  “Perhaps you could light the candelabra.” Charles had an agitated edge in his voice. “If you don’t find that too tedious.”

  William rolled his eyes, but did as requested.

  Charles pulled the rubber cap from the glass vial and held it up in front of him. He twirled a lock of blond hair between his finger and thumb before jamming it into the vial of blood. “We might be able to get a glimpse at whatever troubles Mr. Stratton, but it may only occur for a brief moment, so everyone watch carefully.

  They all leaned closer over the table, including William.

  Charles nodded to the switch next to the door. “Mr. Alexander, would you dim the lights, please?”

  Experiencing
a twinge of the same boredom, I trudged to the light switch. I flipped the dial that controlled the illumination of the large glass chandelier hanging over the table until it dimmed to what I figured was a ghostly glow.

  On my way back to the table I watched Charles hold the tip of the blood soaked hair over the candle flame. A curl of black smoke rose up from the smoldering lock. A putrid smell drifted through the air. Two red sparks shot out of the center. A gushing noise, like wind blowing down a chimney echoed all around. Everyone gasped, and I knew I wasn’t the only one witnessing this eerie event.