The Inner Shadow (A Project Specter Mystery Book 3)

by Paul Seiple

  Derek read a little of the entry. “Prescott. One boy was named Jay Prescott.”

  “OK,” Sam said, taking another bite of sandwich.

  “The woman calling me about the podcast is Brooke Prescott. She’s in Raleigh. Do you think she’s kin to the missing boy?" Derek asked.

  “I don’t know,” Sam said. “Like I said, it wasn’t my jurisdiction. I left it to Wake County. I just helped a bit when they needed it.”

  Derek grabbed his laptop from the desk and searched for the CreepTown podcast.

  “What are you doing?” Sam asked.

  “Maybe this isn’t about Hayes at all,” Derek said. “Maybe Brooke Prescott is still trying to solve her brother’s disappearance.”

  “Brother?” Sam asked.

  “Yep. Right here, it says she’s the younger sister of Jay Prescott, one of the four boys known as the Missing Four.”

  “Why would she think I could help?” Sam said.

  Derek waited a minute before answering to read a list of the podcast episodes. “Paranormal is a theme, too. Maybe she knows about Project Specter?”

  “Even so, why me? Why you? She doesn’t know we have any ties to the group,” Sam said.

  “You’re right. Maybe it is about Hayes. Maybe she thinks a copycat killed her brother and his friends,” Derek said.

  “Maybe. Can we get back to the book? I’d like to release it before I die,” Sam said.

  “You’re old. I’m not sure I’m that fast of a writer,” Derek said, smiling. He replaced the laptop with Sam’s journal. “OK, what about ‘The Death of Adam Brightside’?”

  “Ah, Brightside. 1991. Yeah, that was a strange one. We found his body in a hot tub of a closed hotel," Sam said. “Someone killed him and hid the body in an abandoned boutique hotel called The Nerve.”

  “Oh… the nerve,” Derek said.

  Sam shook his head. “Stick to writing. You’re not a comedian.”

  A crash in the kitchen interrupted the conversation.

  “Is your cat in the cupboards again?” Sam asked.

  There was another crash, followed by the sound of metal scraping across the floor.

  Derek looked over his shoulder and back at Sam. “I don’t have a cat.”

  “Those damn demon kids better not be back,” Sam said.

  Derek stood, unplugged a small lamp, and white-knuckled gripped it. He started drifting toward the noise.

  “What are you going to do with that?” Sam asked. “Blind something?”

  Derek paused and stared at Sam. “It’s not plugged in.” He didn’t wait for Sam’s rebuttal. Derek moved into the hallway. Heat wrapped around him, taking his breath away. He coughed and gasped.

  “You OK?” Sam asked.

  Derek cleared his throat. “Yeah. It’s at least twenty degrees warmer in here.”

  Sam stood and moved to the hallway. “What the hell?”

  “You didn’t believe me?” Derek asked.

  The sound of nails down a chalkboard pierced Derek’s ear. He dropped the lamp. Sam shied away as the sound grew louder.

  “Go back to the study?” Derek said.

  Sam froze as the doorway into the study was blocked by flames.

  “What is it?” Derek asked.

  “You can’t see the flames?” Sam asked.

  “I don’t see anything.” Derek walked by Sam and into the study. He turned back. “Come on.”

  The flames were still there.

  “They’re not real,” Sam said as he braced for the burn. He walked into the study and checked the sleeves of his shirt. No damage. He turned back. The flames were gone. “I swear I saw fire.”

  “I believe you,” Derek said.

  One of Sam’s journals levitated above the desk before launching against the wall beside Derek. Another journal slammed against a wall near Sam.

  “You’ve really pissed something off this time,” Sam said. “It was probably that tasteless joke.”

  “Me? They’re your journals.”

  Derek’s laptop crashed to the floor.

  “That belongs to you,” Sam said.

  A child-like laughter echoed throughout the house. It became deeper and rattled the ceiling fan above Derek and Sam. The fan spun much faster than the highest speed.

  “We’re not qualified to deal with this,” Derek said.

  The fan snapped away from the ceiling and lodged into the wall.

  “You think?” Sam asked.

  “Did you bring something with you?” Derek asked.

  “A clean pair of underwear,” Sam said. “And it’s a good thing I did.”

  Eight

  Don opened a folder and spread printed emails over the table. Mason complained that the coffee wasn’t strong enough.

  “I knew there was something about this coffee shop I didn’t like,” Mason said.

  “It’s fine,” Don said.

  “Says you. You don’t even really like coffee,” Mason said. He grabbed one paper and adjusted his glasses.

  “I’ve never heard of anything like this,” Don said. “It could be just coincidence.”

  Mason lowered his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “You know better than that. There is no such thing as a coincidence when dealing with the supernatural.”

  “I know that. Maybe it’s not supernatural. Maybe Jaime has it wrong,” Don said.

  “Jaime knows the supernatural when she sees it,” Mason said.

  Don nodded and picked up an email about the incident that started the strange crimes.

  “How dare you begin without us,” Kim Strode said, patting Don on his shoulder.

  “Kim. Terrence. Welcome,” Mason said.

  “Just getting a head start,” Don said.

  Mason kicked out a chair. Kim sat down. Terrence went to get drinks.

  “He’s really on board with this?” Mason asked.

  Kim smiled. “It was his idea.”

  “That demon must have shaken him,” Mason said.

  “That happens when you encounter one,” Kim said.

  “How are you doing after the Murmur thing?” Mason asked.

  “I’m good,” Kim said. “So, what do we have?”

  Don handed Kim the email he was reading. “A well-known real estate agent, Monica Strauss, snapped and murdered someone for following her too closely in traffic.”

  “Don’t tell me road rage is classified as supernatural now,” Terrence said, taking a seat at the table. He passed a coffee to Kim.

  “There’s more,” Don said. “Strauss taught Sunday school and from everything we know about her, she would do anything to help others.”

  “That doesn’t sound like someone who would snap and murder a tailgater,” Kim said. “So, we need to talk to her when we get to Cleveland.”

  “That’s not possible. She died in prison,” Don said. “The official cause of death was a heart attack induced by a drug overdose.”

  “Drugs would explain the change in behavior,” Terrence said.

  “True. But it wouldn’t explain this.” Don handed a mugshot photo of Monica Strauss to Terrence.

  “Are those her veins?” Terrence asked, pointing to dark streaks down Strauss’s forearms.

  “They appear to be,” Don said.

  “I’ve seen my share of overdoses, but I’ve never seen veins like that,” Kim said.

  Don rummaged through the papers and handed Kim a photo of a sixteen-year-old kid who was killed when he ran into traffic after shoplifting. The boy had the same dark streaks on his arm.

  “Could there be a new drug on the streets?” Terrence asked.

  “It’s possible,” Mason said. “I doubt it. Strauss had no record of drug use.”

  “A lot of users keep it well-hidden,” Kim said.

  Mason pursed his lips and shrugged his shoulders. “True, but we’re not called in on drug cases.”

  “It’s a demon, isn’t it? Of course it’s a demon,” Terrence said. “It’s always a demon.”

  “Not a
lways,” Mason said. He took a bite of a cinnamon roll. “Sometimes it’s a poltergeist.”

  “That’s reassuring,” Terrence said.

  Mason wiped icing from his beard. “Not necessarily. Have you seen the damage a poltergeist can do?”

  “Mason, stop. You’re going to make Terrence change his mind about joining the team,” Don said.

  “Sorry, kid,” Mason said. “Sometimes poltergeists just steal you hat.”

  “I don’t really wear hats,” Terrence said.

  Mason smiled before taking another bite of the roll. “Then, you probably have nothing to worry about.”

  Kim stared at a photo of Monica Strauss. She slightly resembled Kim’s mother. There was a time when Kim saw her mother in every woman. The grieving never ended, but Kim was much stronger now. There was something about the photo that made Kim feel like her mother was with her. It wasn’t a comforting feeling, more of a caution.

  “You OK?” Don asked.

  “She had a vision or dream or whatever they’re called this morning. She saw me murdered by an old woman,” Terrence said.

  Kim put the photo down. “On a cruise ship while Terrence danced to 'The Danger Zone' by Kenny Loggins,” Kim said.

  Mason wiped icing from his beard again. “The Danger Zone, indeed.”

  “You didn’t tell me it was on a cruise ship,” Terrence said.

  “It was actually an episode of The Love Boat,” Kim said.

  Mason laughed. “Was Charo there? She was always there.”

  Kim shook her head. “There was this shadow thing. It entered an old woman who was playing cards with her friend. She snapped and killed her friend before stabbing Terrence.”

  “She snapped just like Monica Strauss,” Don said.

  “Yeah, I guess she did,” Kim said.

  “Do you remember anything else from the dream?” Don asked.

  “No. Terrence woke me up,” Kim said.

  “This isn’t a coincidence,” Don said.

  “It never is with the paranormal,” Kim said.

  “I said the same thing before you got here,” Mason said. He bit into the roll again. “I say Terrence serenades us with a line or two of 'The Danger Zone' before we step into it.”

  “Very funny,” Terrence said. “Does Debbie know you’re eating that?”

  “No, and you will not tell her,” Mason said before taking the last bite.

  “Where is Debbie?” Kim asked.

  “She’s at home with Lanky. It’s probably not a good thing for him to get involved with the supernatural right now,” Don said.

  A concerned look shadowed Kim’s face. She shifted awkwardly before asking how Lanky was doing.

  “As good as expected,” Don said.

  Kim lowered her head and sipped the coffee.

  “It’s not your fault. You know that, right?” Don asked. “Lanky knows the rules for fighting Darkness.”

  “I guess so,” Kim said.

  Mason stood up and stretched. “That’s enough of this Dr. Phil crap. We’ve got some entities to catch.”

  Nine

  “Remi’s here,” Sara Tate said. She hopped off the couch, stepped over her dog, Rocky, and ran to the door.

  “Great,” Charlie Tate said. He acted as though he wasn’t as happy to see Remi.

  “Slow down, honey,” Norma Tate said. “I’d like to go a month without having to go to the emergency room."

  Sara opened the door just as Remi moved to ring the bell.

  “Oh, hey,” Remi said. Her hair was longer than the last time Sara saw her. The tips were seaweed green and bled into the blackest hair Sara had ever seen.

  “You changed your hair,” Sara said.

  “I wasn’t feeling the blue,” Remi said, bending down to hug Sara. She waved to Norma and watched Charlie turn away and head toward the stairs. “Where are you going?”

  Charlie stopped at the bottom stair, faced Remi, and slipped his headphones over his ears.

  “You didn’t do your homework, did you?” Remi asked.

  Charlie smiled and slid the headphones around his neck. “Of course I did. Animal Boy is my favorite.”

  Remi smiled and titled her head. “Not a bad choice.”

  Norma shot a puzzled glance at Charlie.

  “The Ramones, Mom. Didn’t you ever listen to anything other than Frank Sinatra?”

  “I liked the Rolling Stones,” Norma said as she pointed to Remi’s shirt. The shirt had a faded side profile of Mick Jagger on it.

  “Another good choice,” Remi said.

  “Name a Stones song, Mom?" Charlie asked.

  “'Gimmie Shelter',” Norma said.

  Charlie looked to Remi to see if Norma was right. Remi nodded.

  “OK, I guess you’re kind of cool,” Charlie said.

  “Well, thanks,” Norma said. “I’ll get some drinks. Tea, Remi?”

  “Sure. Decaffeinated, if you have it,” Remi said.

  “Hey, you’re here to see me, aren’t you?” Sara asked, tugging at Remi’s mustard colored cardigan.

  “Of course, I am. Seen anything special?” Remi asked.

  Sara Tate wasn’t the typical eleven-year-old. She saw things not of this world. It was Remi’s job to help Sara navigate her powers and try to be as much of a normal eleven-year-old kid as she could. Charlie Tate was a little older than his sister. He saw things too, mainly ghosts. Charlie’s powers weren’t as strong as Sara’s. He hoped to keep it that way. He would rather discover classic rock-and-roll than help release a spirit.

  “Not much, since the Umbrella Girl,” Sara said. Her voice held a hint of disappointment. “Do you think I’m losing my ability?”

  Remi rubbed Sara’s shoulder. “Honey, you’re always going to be a sensitive. Sometimes, your energy knows it needs a break.”

  “My energy needs some more recommendations,” Charlie said. “The Ramones are good, but got anything a little harder?”

  “Let me think about it a bit. I’ll put together a playlist for you,” Remi said.

  Norma came back with four glasses of tea. She handed one to Charlie and asked him to go to his room so Remi could visit with Sara. He let out a deep breath, but didn’t argue. Charlie waved to Remi and headed up the stairs.

  “I’ll catch up with you before I leave,” Remi said.

  Norma handed a glass to Remi.

  “Is everything OK?” Remi asked.

  Norma smiled. “Yeah. I think Charlie may have a crush on you. I figured you wouldn’t have time to talk with Sara if I didn’t send him on his way.”

  “Oh,” Remi said, bringing the glass to her lips. A reddish-pink hue came over her cheeks.

  “Sorry. He’s thirteen. You know…”

  Remi cut Norma off. “I remember.”

  “OK, well, I’ll leave you two alone. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need a refill,” Norma said.

  Sara took a seat and kicked her heels against the couch. Remi sat beside her.

  “You sure everything is OK?” Remi asked.

  Sara nodded and then shook her head. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Charlie. He thinks I’m a freak, but I’ve been seeing something like a shadow for a week or so.”

  “You’re not a freak. You know that, right?”

  Sara nodded.

  “And shadows, or shadow people, are common sights to sensitives. Has it scared you?” Remi asked.

  “Not really. It never takes a shape. I mean, it’s more like a blob, you know?”

  “Does it do anything?” Remi asked.

  “It just shows up,” Sara said.

  “Can you try to get it to show up now?" Remi asked.

  “I can try,” Sara said. She closed her eyes. The room was still visible to her based on memory. The television was showing an episode of Sponge Bob. Light beamed in through the window behind the couch as it did every afternoon. Rocky lay on his dog bed in the room's corner. Sara even saw Remi beside her. And then the room darkened. It was like someone tossed a blan
ket over the window to block out the sun. Sara flinched.

  “Is it here?” Remi asked.

  “I think so,” Sara said.

  Remi took Sara’s hand. “Try to go inside of it.”

  “What?” Sara asked.

  “Walk towards it,” Remi said.

  Sara tried to stand, but Remi brought her back to the couch. “In your mind,” she said.

  Sara concentrated on the shadow as it circled in the center of the room like a funnel. She watched herself stand up. She looked back to the couch to see Remi sitting beside her, holding her hand.

  “It’s OK. I’m here,” Remi said. She stood beside Sara. “It’s weird at first, I know.”

  “How am I here and on the couch?” Sara asked.

  “Your body is on the couch. Your energy is here,” Remi said.

  “I didn’t know I could do this,” Sara said.

  “There’s a lot you can do that you don’t know yet. Is this the shadow you’ve been seeing?”

  “Yep. It’s kind of boring. It does nothing except block out light,” Sara said.

  “Well, that’s doing something,” Remi said. “Walk into it.”

  “Are you sure?” Sara asked.

  “I’ll be with you,” Remi said.

  Sara squeezed Remi’s hand and moved closer to the shadow. The air cooled and held a charge. A chill constricted around Sara’s forearm. A tingle moved from her palm to Remi’s. Sara stopped and looked at Remi.

  “Are you scared?” Remi asked.

  Sarah shook her head. Remi smiled and motioned for Sara to move deeper into the shadow. A subtle mist tickled Sara’s face. Her hair matted to her forehead. It reminded her of the time the Umbrella Girl visited her. Sara knew most of the spirits that visited her were looking for help. She assumed the same with the shadow.

  She was wrong.

  Sara took a step deeper into the shadow. The mist stung like she stumbled into a hornets' nest. She broke free from Remi to swat at her face.

  “What is it?” Remi asked. She didn’t need to wait for Sara’s answer. The stinging hit Remi’s forearm first, before traveling to her neck. She smacked at her flesh. The sting spread through her body.