Shadows

She looked at the pieces of cloth and hair which Joubert had scraped from beneath his fingernails and deposited in a Petri dish.

‘You said you felt cold, just before it all began to happen,’ she continued.

‘That feeling of coldness is usually associated with Astral projection.’

‘An Out of the Body Experience?’ said Joubert, incredulously.

‘Danielle Bouchard said she was attacked by you. I think she was right. You described her, you described how you tried to strangle her.’ She held up the EEG read-out. ‘There was a tremendous amount of activity in the occipital area of your brain at that time. That’s exactly what happened with Maurice Grant.’

‘But it isn’t usual for the Astral body, once projected, to appear in tangible form,’ Joubert countered. ‘Danielle Bouchard doesn’t just say she saw me, she says I touched her. Injured her.’

‘Have you ever felt any feelings of anger or antagonism towards her?’ Kelly asked.

‘Not that I’ve been aware of,’ Joubert told her.

‘But, subconsciously, you may harbour some feelings such as those, for her.

The hypnosis released those feelings, just as the drugs unlocked the violent side of Maurice Grant.’

‘I don’t understand what this has to do with the Astral body,’ Lasalle interjected.

‘The EEG read-outs seem to point to the fact that the area which controls the subconscious is housed in the occipital lobe,’ Kelly said. ‘The Astral body is controlled by the subconscious. It functions independently of the rest of the mind. That hidden area we’ve been looking for, this is it.’ She jabbed the read-out with her index finger, indicating the fifth line.

‘The subconscious mind controls the Astral body,’ Joubert repeated, quietly.

‘It looks that way,’ Kelly said. ‘You performed an act, while in the Astral state, which you could not have carried out while conscious.’

‘Are you saying that the Astral body is the evil side of man?1 said Lasalle.

‘The violent, cruel part of us.’

‘It’s possible. And hypnosis or drugs can release that other identity,’ she told him.

‘The other identity knows nothing of right or wrong,’ Joubert said. ‘It’s identical in appearance but not hampered by conscience, remorse or delusions of morality. A being which is completely free of the ethical restraints imposed upon it by society.’

Kelly caught the slight gleam in his eye.

‘The Mr Hyde in all of us,’ he said.

‘What?’ Lasalle asked, puzzled.

‘Jekyll and Hyde. One side good, one side evil. The conscious mind is Jekyll, the unconscious is Hyde only it may be possible for that evil side to function independently of its host.’

‘Think how this discovery will help the treatment of schizophrenia and other mental disorders,’ Kelly said.

‘But no one is to know of it yet,’ Joubert snapped.

‘Why?’ Lasalle wanted to know. ‘It is important, as Kelly says. People …’

Joubert cut him short.

‘It’s too early to reveal our findings,’ he rasped.

There was a long silence, finally broken by Lasalle.

‘Kelly,’ he began. ‘How do we know that everyone, every man, woman and child, doesn’t possess this inner force of evil?’

‘I think it’s safe to assume they do,’ she said, cryptically. ‘Only as far as we know, it can only be released by using drugs or hypnosis.’

‘As far as we know,’ he repeated, his words hanging ominously in the air.

Kelly looked at the dish full of hair and fabric and shuddered.

The clock on the wall above him struck one and Lasalle sat back, rubbing his eyes. He checked the time against his own watch and yawned.

He’d been hard at work since seven o’clock that evening, since returning from the Metapsychic Centre. Before him on the polished wood desk lay a 6000 word article which he had been slaving over for the past six hours. He’d stopped only once for a cup of coffee and a sandwich at about 9.30 but most of the sandwich lay uneaten on the plate beside the typewriter. He looked up and found himself caught in the gaze of a woman with flowing blonde hair whose

crisp green eyes he seemed to drown in.

The photo of his wife stood in its familiar place on his desk at home. Each time he looked at it he felt the contradictory feelings which had plagued him ever since her death. To look at her brought back all the agony which he had suffered when she’d been taken from him so suddenly, but he also found comfort in those green eyes — as if a part of her lived on and remained with him. He reached for the photo and studied her finely-shaped features. He, himself had taken the picture three years earlier. It was all that remained of her. That and

the memories.

He replaced the photo and shook his head, trying to dispel the drowsiness which was creeping over him like a blanket. He knew that he must go to bed soon but there was just one more thing left to do.

He picked up his pen, pulled the writing paper towards him and began writing: To the Editor,

You will find enclosed an article which contains details of a discovery as important as it is fascinating. Having worked at the Metapsychic Centre in Paris for the past twelve years I have encountered many strange phenomena but nothing of this nature has ever presented itself to me until now.

I realize that the subject of Astral Travel/Projection etc. is one which has fascinated people for many years but never before have facts been so far reaching in their importance as in the case I have recounted in my article.

I hope that you will see fit to publish this article as I feel it has far-reaching implications for all of us.

Yours sincerely,

Lasalle signed it, re-read it then pushed it into the envelope with the article. He sealed it and left it on the desk, deciding to post it in the morning on his way to the centre.

He wandered into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of milk, standing at the sink while he drank it.

What they had discovered that afternoon was far too important to withhold.

Besides, Lasalle felt unaccountably ill at ease. The incident with Danielle Bouchard had worried him. Even as he thought about it he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise slightly.

Others had a right to know the truth.

Whether Joubert liked it or not.

New York

Blake picked up a copy of Time then decided to wander across to the paperbacks to see if there was anything to pass the time on the flight home. He ran his eyes swiftly over the magazine shelves once more before turning to the books.

He could have been forgiven for not noticing the slim volume.

The cover bore the title: Journal of Parapsychology.

Blake reached for it, one of the cover stories catching his eye: Astral Projection: The Truth. He flipped open the magazine, found the table of contents and traced the article he sought.

He read the first three paragraphs standing there then he paid for the magazine and left the airport newsstand.

The voice of the flight controller told him that he should go through to the departure gate. Blake hurried to the washroom.

He had flown many times before but he still felt the same twinge of nerves each time. Nerves? Who was he trying to kid? Flying scared him shitless, it was as simple as that. Already his stomach was beginning to turn gentle somersaults. He found that he was alone in the room. He crossed to a sink and filled it with cold water, laying his magazines on one side.

He splashed his face with water, wiping off the excess with his hands when he could find no towel. Blake straightened up and gazed at his reflection in the mirror. He looked pale, his eyes red-rimmed and as he glanced at