Stalking Shadows (Scary Mary) (15 page)

Mr. White lived on a narrow side street above his shop, White’s Rare Books. Mary parked on the street, only scraping the tires along the curb and not going up on it, which was an improvement for her. She helped Gran out of the car.

The windows for the shop were boarded up and a cardboard sign was stuck up that said, “Closed Indefinitely.” A handwritten note was tacked up under it: “Good Riddance”. It seemed Mr. White made as many friends outside the hospital as he did in.

They went to a side door and pressed the buzzer. A screech of “No solicitors!” came out of the box. Gran rolled her eyes and pressed the call button. “Zeke, let us in.”

There was a buzz, and Mary held the door. She looked up the staircase that greeted them and glanced nervously at Gran. She’d never manage the stairs with her crutches. Mr. White appeared at the top. “There’s a remote down there. Do you see it? Hit the button to call the chair.”

Mary picked up the small single button remote and pressed it, not really sure what she was doing. In response to the remote, a chair started descending the stairs on a rail. She had never seen anything like it before. It seemed pretty neat. When it arrived, she took the crutches, and Gran sat down on the chair. Gran took hold of the joystick and started gliding up the stairs. Mary walked a step behind as she followed her up. She sort of wished she could give it a try.

Mr. White was waiting for them at the top. “Any developments since the last time I saw you?”

“It’s been only eight hours,” Mary commented, as she helped Gran get back on her crutches.

“A lot can happen in eight hours. I found the sword. This way.”

“Sword?” She glanced at Gran. What was she going to do with a sword?

“It’s his anchor. Come on.”

They followed him from the landing into a room filled with bookcases and jammed with furniture. Gran wouldn’t be able to navigate it with her crutches.

“Here have a seat,” he pulled a chair out for her. It had a stack of folders on it. He cursed under his breath as he picked the pile up and set it on top of another pile. Gran carefully sat down. He motioned for Mary to keep following him. They snaked between old beaten-up furniture and had to step over crumpled papers and dirty dishes as they crossed the room. Mr. White was in serious need of a housekeeper, or maybe just a keeper.

“Well, here it is.” Off one of the bookcase shelves, he picked up a plastic costume sword, complete with plastic, bejeweled sheath. Mary began to think she was being had.

“This is the anchor?”

“Yes. Horace, this is Mary, the young woman I was telling you about.”

She waited a moment for Horace to respond. Nothing happened.

“Well, what’s he saying?” Mr. White asked.

“Nothing. Are you sure it’s haunted?”

“Am I sure? Of course, I’m sure. Horace just plays dumb sometimes. He’s chatty enough with me and my spirit board.” He shook the sword. It rattled in its sheath. A paste gem fell off. Mary wondered if she should point it out. “Wake up, Thistlebottom. We’ve got visitors.”

He looked to Mary to see if the ghost had responded. She shook her head. From the other side of the room, Gran spoke up. “Maybe if Mary took the anchor, he’ll speak. She’s a natural amplifier for spirits.”

He thrust the sword at her. It looked like something a kid would carry at Halloween. It felt curious in her hands, though. Like Ricky’s locket.

She pulled the sword out of its sheath to reveal the gray plastic blade. A cold blast swirled around her, raising goose bumps along her arms.

“Blast him, he is always forgetting to unsheathe me. How do you do, my dear? I understand you need a champion?”

“Oh, I knew I’d forgotten something,” Mr. White muttered as he took a seat.

“Horace Thistlebottom?” she asked.

“At your service, my dear, but please call me Maximilian, or Max, if you prefer. Though Juliet would argue that the name means nothing, I cringe at the sound of my birth name and shudder at the thought of it at the top of a playbill.”

“Okay, Max. Has Mr. White explained exactly what we need you for?”

“Maybe you could do so again with more matter and less art?”

She wasn’t sure exactly what he meant but figured that had been a yes. “Um, okay, there’s this thing called a Shadowman. It feeds off people in the dark. It’s been feeding off people at the hospital, which is bad, obviously. We need to get rid it. We know light hurts it, and it doesn't like ghosts. We’re hoping that you might be able to help us get rid of it.”

“Fear not, I be no Falstaff. I will imitate the action of the tiger; Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood; Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage; Then lend the eye a terrible aspect; Let it pry through the—”

Mary cut him off. She feared how long he’d go on if she didn’t. “I get it. You’re willing and able. Thanks.”

“Getting stuffy, ain’t he?” Mr. White asked. “Imagine if you had to use a spirit board. Takes fifteen minutes to spell out what's essentially ‘Yes, that’s right’.”

“Humph, unlike some, I choose my words to flow trippingly off the tongue.”

Pushing forward, she asked, “What now?”

 “Now, we go to the hospital and deal with the Shadowman,” Gran said from across the room.

“What, just like that? We don’t even know if this will work,” Mr. White said. Mary let out a small sigh of relief. Glad someone was erring on the side of caution.

“And how will we know if it will? You have a test Shadowman to try this on?”

“Why am I the one worrying about your granddaughter’s safety? Shouldn’t you be?”

Gran’s eyes slanted to her and then skittered away. Mary wasn’t sure what her look meant. “Mary set out to help her school friend, and the Shadowman is what she found.” She stopped herself from correcting Gran’s continuing misconception of Vicky.

“Yes, I know that, but why must she be the one put in harm’s way?”

“It’s just the way it is,” Gran muttered and wouldn’t look at them.

“Gran?” She understood less now than when Max was talking.

“Helena, explain yourself. It’s clear Mary is scared of this thing and doesn’t want to face it, but you’re pushing her along like some sacrificial lamb, and she looks up to you too much to speak up. Well, I’m speaking up for her, and I won’t let you out of this house with Horace until I get an answer.”

A steely glint came into Gran’s eyes, but Mr. White’s glare was just as flinty. Mary didn’t know if she should speak up or, if she did, what she should say.

“Tell me, were these two ever involved?”

Mary jumped and looked down at the costume sword. “What?”

“What is it, Mary?”

“It seems possible to me. They certainly fight like they loved each other once.”

“Mary, you don’t have to face the Shadowman. If you don’t want to, just say so,” Mr. White said.

“But who will get rid of it if I don’t?” Mary was happy not to have to respond to Max’s weird suggestion. Gran did not have ex-boyfriends.

“Exactly,” Gran said.

“Exactly, nothing. Someone else can deal with this. You can go on about your life.”

Gran didn’t answer, just stared at Mary. It seemed Mary would have to be the one to argue this with Mr. White. “Who else can deal with it? You said no one really knows how to get rid of these things, but we at least have a plan. We should try. We’re the only hope for those people in the hospital, of which you were one just this morning.”

He shook his head. “This isn’t your burden.”

“Then whose is it? If not me, who? Just give me a name, and I’ll leave it to them.”

Mr. White didn’t reply.

“She will do this with or without your help, Zeke. Accept it. Now, Mr. Thistlebottom, would you be willing to come with us and assist?”

“Quite, my dear madam. It would be an honor.”
Mary nodded her head to indicate his answer. Gran pulled herself up with her crutches.

“We could use your help too, Zeke, but we will be doing this with or without you.”

Mr. White threw his arms up and turned away from them. Mary felt bad that he was upset. She appreciated his concern for her. “I know you’re just trying to look out for me, but if something isn’t done, people will die. There's a possibility that some already have. We have to do everything we can.”

He looked over his shoulder at her. “But what if something happens to you?”

She really didn’t know what to say to that.

Chapter 11

Rude Awakening

She was sitting on a bench at the park. There were kids playing on the jungle gym. She didn’t know where Rachel was, but she wasn’t worried. She'd be along eventually. It was nice just watching the kids. “I don’t know how you did it, but thanks.”

She turned to find Vicky, who had just appeared beside her on the bench--or had she been there the whole time? Mary shook her head. “What?” Was she dreaming? Why weren’t they in the hospital room?

“The monster’s gone. How’d you kill it?”

“You’re out of your coma?”

“Not yet. So how’d you do it?”

“Why aren’t we in your hospital room?”

Vicky shrugged. “Don’t know. This seemed nicer. So what’d you do?”

Mary looked towards the kids. She didn’t feel like she was dreaming, but she decided to go along with it for now. “We haven’t done anything yet. How do you know the Shadowman’s gone?”

“Don’t feel it lurking around anymore. So if you didn’t do anything, who did?”

Mary rubbed her forehead. Was the Shadowman really gone? Was she really dreaming of Vicky in the park? Was this really Vicky or was she dreaming a fake Vicky? Her head hurt, and she didn’t feel well.

“No one has done anything.”

Vicky huffed and crossed her arms. “Then what happened?”

She stared across the park. The kids were playing tag. One was chasing all the others. He was dressed in black. “Maybe it moved on.”

“So it’s still out there hurting people?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but a tugging at her pant leg made her look down. Nothing was there. She shook her foot to get rid of the sensation.

“How’d we end up at the park? We were always in your hospital room before.”

“I said I don’t know. You’re the freak, not me.”

Mary hoped that this was really Vicky and not a dreamed-up one, because dreaming up a Vicky to insult her would mean her subconscious was just evil.

“Pot, meet kettle, Vicky. You’re the one who pulled me into your dreams.”

“No, I didn’t.”

Everything seemed to go darker and sharper. The kid, the one chasing the others, had caught a little girl. When he tagged her, she went down and didn’t get back up. “You are so the one doing this. Stop denying it.” The tugging on her pant leg began again.

“No, I'm not. This is all you. You're the weird one. I'm completely normal. I'm a cheerleader, for Pete's sake.” The kid in black was chasing the other kids again. The little girl lay motionless on the ground. Mary wondered if she should she get up and check on her.

Wind began whipping their hair. “I’m not doing this. I don’t know how.”

“Are you sure? You can talk to ghosts. Why not pull me into your dreams?”

The kid in black had tagged another kid, and he went down, too. She looked for the little girl, but she was gone. Something was still tugging at her leg. “I didn’t pull you in; you pulled me.” She kicked her foot straight out to get rid of the tugging.

“Nuh uh, and why’s everything going scary-movie ominous?”

The last boy who’d been tagged wasn’t getting up either. She’d never seen anyone play tag like this. She didn’t like it. “I don’t know, maybe because you’re pissing me off.”

“Aha! So you admit it. You’re the one causing this.”

Mary stood up and turned away from the children. She didn’t like watching them any more. “Talking to ghosts does not mean that I have telepathic dreams. Being able to do one does not mean that I can do the other.”

Vicky jumped up, too. “Just admit it! You’re a complete freak who does all sorts of freakish things in freaky ways!”

She shook her head and instantly regretted it. She was really beginning to feel sick. “I’ve never entered anyone’s dreams before. Why should I be able to all of a sudden?”

Vicky threw her hands up. “How should I know? I’m in a coma!”

“That’s right, you’re in a coma. I’m not the one who needed help with no way to ask for it. You did this. You somehow tapped into my head or pulled me into yours so you could tell me about the Shadowman. We shared the first dream before I even knew you were hurt, so you have to be the one doing this. If I could do this, which I can’t, why would I have a telepathic dream with you before I even knew anything was wrong? Welcome to Club Freak, Hickey. Here’s your membership card.”

Vicky’s face screwed up as if she were about to yell at her, but instead, something bit Mary’s foot hard. She grabbed her injured foot and started hopping around on one leg. She shot Vicky a glare. “Ow! Stop that!”