Stalking Shadows (Scary Mary) (20 page)

“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 left.”

“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.

“Max!” Mr. White shouted. She was grabbed from behind and forced down into the chair. She didn’t try to struggle. Instead, she kicked the chair back. She felt the cold chill of Max’s form pass over her as her chair banged into the table. She twisted around and grabbed the sheath.

“Mary, wait—”
Max’s voice was cut off as she slammed the sword into the sheath.

“You don’t have Max or Horace or whatever the hell he wants to be called to help you anymore.”

“That’s fine. You don’t have anyone either. Just give up, Mary. I will get you.”

“Why are you doing this? We trusted you!”

Mr. White shook his head. “If you were my age, you'd understand.”

“No, I don't think I would. And what about Gran? Do you think she'd understand? Do you think she'd cut off her shadow if she wanted to live a few more crappy years?”

Mr. White looked past her at Gran's unconscious body. “It was good to see Helena again. Knew about her fortunetelling business. Thought about showing up as a customer and giving her grief, but never did. Knew it wasn't a good idea. She'd take one look at my palm and throw me out.”

“Mr. White, please. Maybe we could help you. You don't have to do this.”

“It's already done, Mary. You know how I recognized you? There’s a glow about you. I’ve never seen a glow so bright. It’ll keep me going for a long time. Now, you don’t get any more answers. They won’t help you.”

He glanced over at the creature. “Get her.”

The Shadowman moved toward her again, but she leaped from the chair and dodged past it. She rushed Mr. White. They fell into the hallway in a tangle. She grabbed the collar of his shirt. “Call it off!”

“Or you’ll what?” He peered past her. “I think you forgot something important, or rather, someone.”

Mary turned to see the Shadowman with its hand on Gran. “No!” She scrambled to her feet. “Don’t! Stop touching her!”

The Shadowman only stared at her implacably. She edged closer to Gran. White wisps rose from her head where the Shadowman’s hand hovered.

“Fine, take me. Do it.”

“That’s a good girl. Your gran would be so proud.”

“Don’t talk about her like you care! You take me, and then you leave. You never come near her again.”

“Fine.” He looked at the Shadowman and jerked his head. The Shadowman left Gran and came toward her.

“Won’t need anyone for a while after you.”

When the Shadowman was at arm’s length, she had to clench all of her muscles to keep from backing away. It raised its hand.

Her grip tightened on Max’s sword. She’d held onto it through everything.

The Shadowman’s eyes flashed, and its hand began to descend. She shucked the sheath off the sword and drove it into his torso. Her bile rose to her throat when it stuck. The sound that the Shadowman made was worse than nails on a chalkboard. She let go of the sword and stumbled back. The sword stayed embedded in its chest.

“Mary? What have you done?”

She didn't answer.

“No!” Mr. White rushed forward. She jumped in front of him and shoved him hard. He fell to the floor. The Shadowman was clutching at the sword but seemed unable to pull it out.

“No, no, no!” Mr. White struggled to rise, reaching with one hand toward the Shadowman. His other grabbed at his chest. Mary blocked the old man.

“It’s over.”

“Max, pull your sword out. Do it!”

Mary cursed to herself. There was no way she could hold off Mr. White and stop Max. She'd never stood a chance with three against one.

“No, Ezekiel. My debt is paid.”

“No, it’s not! You still owe me, and you know it.”

“Maybe, but it won’t matter when I’m gone.”

Her eyes widened as a pale silhouette came into view behind the Shadowman. It was Max. She couldn’t believe she was seeing him. His hands circled the Shadowman’s neck.

Mr. White surged to his feet. “No, stop!” he yelled. Mary his arms him and held him back.

The Shadowman’s hands flew from the sword to its neck. It struggled to pull Max off. A gurgling sound came from Mr. White. Mary tore her eyes away from the struggling, spectral forms as Mr. White collapsed with his hands at his throat.

“Max?”

“Grab the sword! You have to strike the heart.”

“What?”

“It’s the only way. He’ll just keep hurting people if you don’t. Grab the sword!”

She left Mr. White and moved in front of the Shadowman. It was trying to wrench Max off, but the ghost was holding tight.

“Mary, do it now!”

She grabbed the sword with both hands. She pulled it out, again sickened by the feeling of resistance. When it was free, she could see that the plastic blade was coated in a translucent black substance. She wanted to puke at the sight.

“The heart!”

She clutched the sword in both hands and stabbed into the chest. She screamed as the sword met resistance again. She had to push harder to make it go in all the way.

The Shadowman’s back arched, and its awful cries cut off.
“Time to go to hell, old friend.”

“Max!”

They were fading. The black translucent goo was dripping out from around the sword and dissipating on the floor.

She turned to Mr. White. He still had his hands at his throat, but he wasn’t moving. His face was frozen in a silent wail. When she looked back at Max and the Shadowman, they were hardly outlines.

“Max, hold on!”

She reached to grab the sword.
“No, Mary. This is how it should be. I’m sorry for deceiving you and Helena and for killing your pet. He was a better ghost than me.”

“No, Max!” The Shadowman and Max faded away completely. The rattle of something hitting the floor made her look down. It was all that was left of the sword, a black sliver of melted plastic. She bent down and stared at it.

“Max?”

There was no answer. Her eyes stung, and her legs gave out. She collapsed and poked the burnt plastic. She wiped her eyes and looked at Mr. White. His eyes were still open, but they were cloudy now. She put her fingers to his neck to check for a pulse and felt none. With a shaking hand, she reached and gently wiped her hand down his face, catching the eyelids and pulling them down. She also lifted his chin to close his mouth. He looked almost peaceful when she was done.

When Gran moaned, Mary moved to get up. Her knees shook as she picked herself up and went over to her. She put her arms around Gran and sagged, practically sitting in her lap. Gran was still groggy and bewildered. “What happened? Did I fall asleep? Is the Shadowman here?” Mary shook her head and hugged Gran tighter.  

“Mary, what happened? Are you all right?” She could tell when Gran spotted Mr. White. She jerked and immediately pushed her away. She almost tumbled out of her chair in her rush to get to the body. “Oh my God, Ezekiel! Mary, call 911.”

She wiped her face and sat in the empty seat left by Gran. The power was still off. Someone would have to go to the basement and flip the breakers before they could call for help. She couldn’t bring herself to move. “He’s dead. I’m sorry.”

Gran crouched over the body. Her hand was on his cheek. “The Shadowman killed him?”

She wasn’t sure how to answer. Should she tell her? It was all so awful and sad. Mr. White had betrayed them. He’d seemed like a friend, but he had wanted to hurt them. Had hurt them. But who had killed Mr. White? She wanted to vehemently deny it, but the shuddering truth was that she had been the one. She’d killed a man. Not directly, but she’d seen how attacking the Shadowman was affecting him, and she hadn’t stopped. She’d still taken the sword and stabbed it in the heart.

“Mary?”

She jumped in surprise. She hadn’t noticed that Gran had moved to kneel in front of her. What could she tell her? She looked down at her hands. They were clean. No black goo. No blood. They looked innocent.

“I killed him.”

“What?”

“I killed Mr. White.”

“No dear, it was the Shadowman.”

Mary looked into Gran’s eyes. There was still very little light in the room. Gran’s face was mainly in shadow. But what little light there was glimmered off tear tracks. Mary wiped her own face, but it was dry. She didn’t feel sad. That was bad, wasn’t it? She should feel sad for killing someone, shouldn’t she? Her eyes dropped back to her innocent looking hands.

“Let’s get you into the living room. Did lightning knock out the power?”

Mary let herself be pulled out of the chair. She had to step over Mr. White’s feet to leave the room. She started to shake. What if he spoke up? What would she say to him?

“Are you there, Mr. White? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Mr. White, can you hear me? I’m sorry.”

“Hush, Mary.” Gran pulled her from the room.

She finally felt tears when she realized there would be no reply. There was a lot of silence in the house now. So many voices were gone. Gran hustled her to the living room and pushed her down onto the couch. “Stay here. I’m going to check the breakers and call 911. Just stay here.”

She nodded and stared at the floor. Gran left to go to the basement. A few minutes later, the lights came on all over the house. The sudden illumination stung her eyes. She wished it had stayed dark.

Gran came to sit beside her on the couch. The cordless was in her hand. She was telling the emergency dispatcher their address. After she hung up, she put her arms around her. “If anyone asks, say it looked like he had a heart attack or a stroke. He came over to visit and collapsed.”

She nodded and drew her knees up to her chin. The house was so quiet. The only ones there were her and Gran.

“Mary, what happened?”

“I killed Mr. White.”

Gran squeezed her, but there was a trace of frustration in her voice. “Don’t say that anymore. Not to me, not to anyone. Now tell me what happened.”

“The Shadowman was here. It was going to kill us. I stabbed it with Max’s sword, and Max grabbed it. He held it so I could stab it again.”

“What was Zeke doing?”

Mary shuddered and bowed her head lower. “He was trying to stop me.”

Gran froze. Mary wanted to crawl under the couch. There was a banging at the front door. Gran went to answer it. There were paramedics and police officers on the other side. Gran led them all back to her office. Mary stayed on the couch.

She could hear a lot of talking and movement from the back, but they didn’t come back through the living room. They must have brought the ambulance around the house and taken Mr. White out through the office entrance. Gran stayed with them and answered their questions. No one came to speak to her. They must have believed Gran’s story. She wondered if there would be an autopsy and what the coroner would find. Would there be strangulation marks? What about stab wounds? She hadn’t seen any blood, but his death had been violent. Surely, there would be evidence of that? Would she be a suspect? What about Gran? What would they tell them?