Shades

“Gustav, can magic change people?”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, my mom. She’s a drunk. Can I make her sober with magic?”

“For that, you need a lot of school. What part of her mind do you change? You make her not want alcohol and maybe she wants cocaine, instead. You make her not want anything then maybe she forgets to eat and starves. Your mother stays clean and maybe she wonders why you spend so much time with old Russian bum, yes? Nyet. The mind is dangerous to play with. Your brain must be strong first.”

“But it can be done?”

“Why you think love spells work so good? Of course it can be done! But first, you must know the mind, or you make bad mistakes.”

“Have you ever made a mistake?”

“Yes,” Gustav whispered. “Many mistakes. Many sacrifices.”

“Sacrifices? Like, what kind?”

“Is not important. What is important is that you go to school before truant officer finds you here. We would both have to explain, yes? And that wouldn’t be good. Now go.”

789

Weeks passed. Danny went back to school and studied hard. Soon, he forgot about the dirt bike and escaping Brackard’s Point. He pushed those plans aside and focused on class instead. He begged off doing things with his friends and went to the library instead, a building he’d spent years actively avoiding. He discovered the sciences wing, with textbooks, dictionaries of medical terminology, and a copy of Grey’s Anatomy. Gustav continued teaching him every other day. One day to listen, one day to think, was how the old Russian put it. First you learn, then you absorb.

At night, Danny thought about what he’d learned, and wondered how long before he could change Brackard’s Point into a place he could tolerate.

789

Bedrik stayed busy, too. His army continued to grow with each trip to Gethsemane. Edward T. Rammel’s shade dwelled inside Tony Amiratti Junior. Rammel was grateful for the second life, the chance to experience everything all over again—and to experience it as someone else. Since the senior Amiratti was in Atlantic City these days at the request of Marano, Tony controlled much of his father’s local empire. Thus, Bedrik, who commanded Rammel’s shade, was now in charge of the town’s organized crime. It was the first step towards dominion.

Gethsemane’s night watchman, Sam Oberman, had been his second recruit, taken over by the shade of a drunk driver named Thomas Church. With Oberman under his control, Bedrik could work in the cemetery without concern of getting caught. With each shade he freed from the grave, another of the town’s most influential citizens became his pawn. Attorneys, bank managers, town officials, the fire chief, ministers, even the zoning officer; they were all puppets on his strings, all doing his bidding. Slowly, Michael Bedrik possessed Brackard’s Point.

Of course, not all of the transitions were smooth. There were flaws in any plan. Bumps in the road. The unexpected discovery of Martin’s body had been the first.

Erik Riley was the second.

789

Erik Riley had been a drug addict in life. Cocaine was his drug of choice, shooting up his method of delivery. He’d died of an overdose the night of his senior prom. He’d raged from beyond the grave about how unfair it had all been—until Bedrik summoned his shade.

“You’ve disappointed me,” Bedrik whispered, squatting next to the body. “What should I do with you now?”

Erik looked up at his master through Chief Winters’ eyes, and knew fear for the first time since his death.

Bedrik held his hands out; his palms hovered inches from the big man’s heaving chest. Inside, he felt Erik’s shade fighting to hold on.

“What to do,” Bedrik wondered aloud. “What to do with you?”

Once inside the body of Chief Winters, Erik’s shade had reverted to his old habits. Now he lay here on the floor of Chief Winters’ home, a needle jutting from his arm, his skin the color of death. Having the chief of police die of a drug overdose wasn’t part of Bedrik’s new power scheme. A drug scandal would increase public scrutiny. He’d planned on infiltrating the media eventually, but not this soon. And not before news of Chief Winters’ death would be plastered all over the papers and broadcasts, attracting unwanted attention to Brackard’s Point.

But neither could he allow Erik’s shade to continue inhabiting the policeman’s body. Erik had proven himself unreliable; unable to avoid the sins of his past life.

Bedrik stood up. His knees popped, loud in the silence. He winked at Winters.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Erik whimpered through Winters’ mouth.

Bedrik went into the kitchen and searched through the cupboards until he found a canister of salt. Then he returned to the living room and poured the salt out in a circle around the policeman’s body.

“Erik Riley,” he said, “I have bound you to me, and commanded you to do my bidding. It is through my power that your shade walks the earth again. Now, I command you to return to nothingness. I cast you out of this form, cast you out of this existence, and cast you out of this plane. Get thee behind me and do not return. Your shade shall fade with the dawn.”

The circle of salt began to glow.

Chief Winters jerked upright, muscles still twitching from the overdose. Erik Riley’s shade screamed inside him. Winters stumbled to his feet inside the circle. The needle fell from his arm. His eyes rolled into the back of his head. His heart, already weakened by his lifestyle and the excesses of the shade inhabiting him, ruptured. At the same time, his consciousness briefly returned. His eyes widened in recognition.

“Mr. Bedrik? What the hell?”

Then he toppled over, dead.

Bedrik didn’t move. It wasn’t over.

Erik Riley’s spirit screamed again. Darkness oozed from the Chief’s pores, mouth, and nostrils, and dripped from the corners of his eyes. It reformed briefly into a human shape. Then Bedrik stepped forward, took a deep breath, and blew. The shade, torn completely away from Winters’ body, dissipated. Bedrik continued blowing. Inside the living room, the wind howled. The salt drifted into the air, swirling like snow. The scattered globules of shadow attached themselves to the minute grains and drifted through the open door, vanishing into the night.

Finally, Bedrik relaxed. The winds died down. Silence returned. In the hallway, the clock struck twelve.

The next morning, when he didn’t show up for work and calls to his home went unanswered, Chief Winters would be found dead of a massive coronary. There would be no signs of a disturbance, nothing that would lead investigators to assume foul play had been involved. No trace of Michael Bedrik’s presence would be found. Not even a grain of salt.

“Well,” Bedrik muttered, stepping outside. “I suppose I’ll need more policemen.”

He’d consolidated his power, begun exerting his influence over the town, and taken care of the Erik Riley problem. Now it was time to learn the identity of the person who’d discovered Martin’s body and find out how much they knew.

SIX

School was finished for the day, but Danny remained behind, reading a book in the school library; Magick in Theory and Practice by Aleister Crowley. Danny had bought it at the used bookstore on Harbor Street. Gustav had scoffed, but then insisted that he read it anyway. “Crowley was insane,” the Russian said, “but is important to gain knowledge even from the crazy, yes?”

“Danny?”

Mr. Bedrik’s voice surprised him. Danny jumped. He’d been so engrossed in the book that he hadn’t realized