Rising Shadows (3 page)

Buck naked in front of an audience is not my idea of fun.
God, this is so embarrassing.
A clump of Alonzo washes off me. Bile rises in my throat. Janice jumps back as I vomit. When I stop heaving, I take stock of my body and find more pieces of Alonzo. Flesh and hair.
What the fuck! I’ve got werewolf in my hair! Get it off, get it off!
I wrench the scrub brush out of Janice’s hand and scour my body. When I am finished, my skin has angry red marks from where I rubbed it raw.
I’ll never feel clean again.

Once
I’m freshly
dressed
in a
new
hospital
gown
they
take
me to a
board
room, lined
with
expensive
paintings
. An elongated glass table is in the center of the
room
ringed
by oversized black
leather
chairs
. Richland convenes at the head of the table. As my chair is wheeled inside, the men from the viewing room, the Armani
squad
as I nicknamed them,
stand
up
and
clap. I’m
speechless
. I
just
committed
murder
.

Richland
gets
up
last
and
says
, “Well
done
Rachel! Quite
the performance today
.”

I
can’t restrain
my
outrage
, “Screw
you
, asshole!”

The
gentleman
on Richland’s
right
frowns
at me.  “Apologize to Mr. Richland,” he barks out angrily.

Hysterical laughter bubbles up out of me. This whole thing is absurd. Surely, I will wake up any moment. Dr. Morris looks at me concerned. My laughter turns to tears. Overwhelming defeat settles in.

“It
’s
alright, Mr. Gates.”
He
smiles
at me indulgently, “She’s
over
excited
. Since you’re still
suffering
memory
loss
, I’ll
give
you
a
swift
education
. Mr. Lopez
was
a
werewolf
.
There are countless like him. At this time, we’re uncertain how many species of preternatural beings exist
.
Vampires
,
werewolves
,
exotic
cats
,
even
dragons
have
been
witnessed
. Creatures you
believed
only
lived
in your
nightmares
are living among us. They lurk in plain sight. We chose you to
help
us
bring
down
the
demons
.
The
doctors
injected
you
with a virus to augment your natural psychic gift. On scans, your brain shows improvements, but until today you had yet to
manifest
anything trans mundane.
We
call
what
you
achieved
today
Arcana. With science and psychic sensitives like
yourself
,
we
have created a way to fight all that’s corrupt with the world.”

His
lecture
gives
me a
headache
. I
rub
at
the
cutting
pain
behind my eyes and wearily
and
ask
, “Ripping
men
apart
with my
mind
, is
that
the
extent
of
what
I can
expect
from Arcana?” 
I must have lost it. I’m talking like this is normal.

Richland has
no
answers
to
give
.
Dr. Morris is more forthcoming.
“I’m not
certain
if
we've
seen
all
you
can
do
.
By nature,
the
virus
is always mutating. You may never
reach
full
potential,
or
you
could've
already
topped
out.”

They
turned
me into a
monster
.
Tears
are
rolling
down my
face
,
but
I
don’t make
a
sound
. Dr. Morris
looks
away
, and I
refuse
to
make
eye
contact
with anyone else. I
hate
that they made me
cry
.
Please, let me wake up.

“Perhaps Miss Ryan should
rest
now
,” Dr. Morris
interjects
softly.

I don’t want to rest because I am already asleep. This isn’t real.

An
orderly
takes
charge
of
the
wheelchair. Down
the
hallway
to my room we pass the same doors as before, but this time I see people looking out from the windows. Every face conveys a
story. Fear
and
anxiety
for
their
future
.
Curiosity
of me. Defeat. How long do
you
live
like
this
before
you
accept
it
?

In my
room
, which is
really
a
cell
, a
tray
is
resting
on my
bed with a ham sandwich, bottled water, and a shiny red apple. My stomach growls with hunger.
Can you be hungry in a dream? Who am I kidding, this is no dream. It’s a waking nightmare.

At least I’ll get some food in my stomach before I sleep. The food is tasteless, but I devour every bite. Once my stomach is full, and I set the tray down on the floor, and crawl under the covers. In sleep, I pray I can forget again. In my dreams, I hope I’ll be free.
If this is the real world, my dreams have to be better.
Futile thoughts. If I can sleep at all, I’ll replay all the horror I’ve been a party to.

CHAPTER 2

Rachel

Several days pass uneventfully. Someone brings me food three times a day and I’m allowed to use the bathroom after each meal. Every other day I can shower if I choose. The rest of my time is spent staring at the walls of my room. I take the time to wrap my head around the existence of the bogey man. I make the conscience decision to accept what Richland told me. I could freak out, but what purpose would it serve? Yes, the supernatural is real. I’ve seen it.
Can’t deny a werewolf when it is beating the crap out of you.
Sleep is elusive. When it occurs, I dream of monsters and death.

There is a nagging feeling in the back of my mind that I already knew this.
Deja vu plagues me.
Why does it feel like I’ve heard this song and dance before?
The familiarity of the situation irritates me. Like so many other memories, I can’t quite grasp it out of the ether.
Amnesia is a pain in the ass.

Some memories are resurfacing en masse. I remember I’m a sophomore at a Community College studying journalism. Tuition is high and I have several student loans. I used to live in a rat trap apartment, in the poor part of town, within walking distance of the gas station I worked at. The wages suck, but it covers rent. I’m busy with classes, work, and studying. Until I met Anna, I had no friends. Anna is smart and beautiful; I envy her. She came into the shop one night to buy a candy bar. My school books were
laying on the counter and she asked about my major and where I went to school. We chattered for almost an hour before she had to leave. The next night she came back. We were best friends from then on. Anna persuaded me to move out of my crappy apartment. She needed a roommate, and I wanted to live someplace safer.

“That area is a murder scene waiting to happen. At least no hookers hang out on the corner of my building,” Anna told me.

Anna brought home a project from her psychology professor. The subject was the brain and what lie locked within. Mostly it was a mess of vague questions and absurd riddles. I didn’t comprehend what the test really determined, but took it anyway since Anna asked. I believed in the subject of the test. Psychics and the capacity to do things others can’t.

I never told Anna about my dreams; the ones about events that haven't happened yet. I get impressions about people and places. I’ve only told one soul, my best friend, when I was eleven.

I grew up in a small town in the heart of the Bible belt. Religion was the cornerstone of the community.
Too bad we had a nutcase for a pastor
. Brother George was a fire and brimstone preacher. Convinced the Devil hid in every shadow bent on destroying us. Television was the devil. Modern music was the devil. A woman who didn’t submit to her husband’s every whim was possessed by the Devil. I should have known better than to say anything about my gift, but I was a kid. I warned my friend Alice about her ill grandmother but she didn’t believe me. When her grandmother died suddenly, she told her parents and they blamed me. Brother George said I was a witch.
If I was really a witch, I would have made it rain candy.
My parents elected to move and I hid my ability after that.

Two months after the test I received a letter from the private university Anna attended.
An invitation to join a special study. I was skeptical at first, but I knew I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. The university agreed to transfer all of the credits I had previously earned and apply them to my degree. They would pay off my student loans at the community college and provide me a scholarship to pay for everything. I didn’t ask questions because I was afraid they might realize they had made a mistake. The study required me to take many aptitude tests each week, then I went to regular classes.

The last memory I have before I woke up in this place was coming home to an empty apartment and finding that Anna, along with all of her stuff, had disappeared. Upon closer investigation of the emptied apartment, I discovered a stranger in her bedroom. The intruder didn’t give me time to react as he swiftly jumped me, and forced me face down on the carpet. I felt a stinging sensation on the side of my neck, and the world began to blur at the fringes of my vision.

I hope Anna is okay, but it's all too coincidental. Her friendship, the study and generous offer from the college. My mind and memories line up the events as the fear in my gut bubbles over. This was a set-up from day one.
Why expend all that energy and time on me?

Janice checks my vital signs daily, but no doctors harass me for almost a week. The days and nights drag without incident. I’ve been bored out of my mind until today. To pass the time, I’ve been flexing my
Arcana. Nothing big, just a light show for my own amusement. The first two days I tried to learn control over Arcana were scary. I set my pillow on fire twice and zapped the hell out of myself a dozen times. I picked up a few new tricks like astral projection. I took a ‘walk’ around the institute. Occasionally, I think I connected with one of the other inmates. I tap into their fear and pain. Anger is another common feeling. While I was  “visiting” my neighbors, I tried to soothe them. Help them find a moment of peace and know they aren’t alone. I stopped messing around with my outreach program when I encountered
him
. Cold controlled rage. He frightened me. Whoever he is, he has plans.

This afternoon Janice showed me the library. I nearly hugged her. I suspect Richland isn’t comfortable having a disgruntled psychic sitting around with too much free time. Does he think a field trip to the library is going to earn him brownie points?
Golly gee, thanks Mr. Richland! This totally makes up for turning me into a mutant.

An African American man is seated at a desk playing a game of chess by himself.
Another inmate like me?
Desperate for social interaction I walk over and introduce myself. Without glancing up, he nods and declares,  “Hello, child. I’m Kadema Sidell. Call me Papa Sidell. The rest of my congregation does.” He motions for me to take the chair across from him.  “How does this day find you?”

He’s stiff and formal. It strikes me as funny considering we’re both prisoners.
Dude, lighten up.
I’ve been sitting in a room for days. Sitting isn’t high on my agenda, but I don’t want to annoy my potential new friend. I take my place and answer him,  “I guess I can’t complain. I mean I haven’t been attacked by any werewolves lately.”

Papa
Sidell grins at me,  “Yes, I think that could be viewed as progress.”

His unguarded king is wide open on the board. I could end the game with one move. A piece shoots across and takes out the king, sending it flying off the table.
Telekinesis.
Jiminy Cricket! That’s new.
Watch it, Rachel. Don’t tip your hand to the other players. It gives them an advantage over you
.  “Do you care if I ask you a question, Kadema?”

He looks up from resetting the chess pieces to study me, “Anyone can ask anything child, but whether they get an answer is uncertain.”

Great, more riddles. I just adore riddles.
  “I killed a man in the tank. He was a going to kill me if I didn’t get him first.”

I wait for his reaction. His face never changes. No loathing or shock. He considers me a moment before asking
,  “Do you believe you did wrong?”

I fidget in the chair a little.  “At first I was ashamed of myself. Now, I’m just happy to be alive.”
Though, it’d be nice if my living arrangements improved.

Kadema
shrugs  “You were not the assassin, but the instrument. The puppeteer lies behind a wall of glass. We’re weaponry in a war. But that was not a question. You said you had a question.”

I try to think how to word it but can’t so I blurt out
,  “How did he become a werewolf? Was he born that way?”

Kadema
shakes his head no,  “Some are born. Others are made. The ones who are born don’t share a body with the beast. They’re the beast. Only born shifters can create others, either by birth or bite.”

Janice is hovering in the doorway
. Recess must be over
. I stand up to go. Kadema startles me by clutching my fingers.  “Why will you not call me Papa Sidell like the others?” Magical vibrations leap off Kadema’s skin and up my arm. This man has enough power to level the whole building. This isn’t like my Arcana, he was born this way. I can sense the difference between his magic and my own. Manufactured versus born magic. His grip is too tight to pull away.

“You said your congregation calls you that. I don’t worship you.” The words come out sharp. I tug again to free my hand but nothing. My pulse quickens.

A satisfied sneer spreads across his face.  “You fear me.”

The uptight SOB is feeding off my fear. What an asshole!

I feel his magic trying to read me in some way. Now I’m pissed off.  “I’m not stupid, of course I fear you. I feared the werewolf too and I split him apart like a grape.”
I kind of sound psycho but damn it I am mad.

If
Kadema wants to play a power game, I’ll play. I push back at him using the Arcana. Blue sparks zip down my arm and up Kadema’s. His eyes glow electric blue. A vision hits me. I’m standing in Kadema’s village; legions of followers come from all over to solicit his services. A small boy, his son, is playing in the yard next to the house. Kadema’s glory and arrogance angers his rivals. The child is murdered in an effort to humble Kadema. The ploy backfires when Kadema forces the dead out of their graves. He sets them upon the other villages on the island. His army of corpses tear every man, woman, and child limb from limb. The ocean around the island runs red from all the blood. Kadema is not satisfied until he is the last living human left standing.

Kadema
hisses and releases me,  “You see things I won’t allow.”

Damn
skippy.

“I want nothing to do with what’s in your head,” I bite out.  “You try that shit on me ever again and I’ll find out how far the
Arcana will let me dig in there.”

The ever present guards watch tensely. None of them bold enough to step between us. Janice moves forward in their place.  “Alright you two, lets break it up.”

Guess she’s the only one with balls big enough to risk her neck. Does that make her brave or stupid?

Kadema
laughs at her and turns his attention to the chess game once again.

Stupid.
Definitely stupid.

***

The next morning an orderly comes to get me for another round of testing in the tank. I scowl at him.
You’re not supposed to shoot the messenger, but a little maiming would be okay, right?
All the usual suspects are present: Richland, Dr. Morris, Armani squad, and armed sentries. A beautiful Japanese woman is pacing the length of the tank. She notices me and gives a slight nod in my direction.
She isn’t screaming. Step in the right direction from last time.

Richland clears his throat to get our attention.  “Rachel I want you to meet Taka. You both know how this test ends. You may begin at your leisure.”  He takes his seat.

I look over at Taka. Her eyes are reptilian now.
Is she a lizard?
Not a lizard, a dragon.
Just peachy.
I don’t know if I can haul something that big apart. Taka doesn’t move, she isn’t in a hurry to attack. Maybe we’re on the same page about this. I choose to take a chance.  “I don’t want to hurt you and I don’t think you want to hurt me. They can’t make us do anything can they?”

Taka shrugs and takes a place on the tile floor. I follow suit on the opposite side of the room. We don’t move for minutes while Richland plans.  “Well ladies, someone needs to do something.” Mr. Richland’s voice booms.

“Pass. We’re going to remain here, doing nothing. For the rest of time if need be.” I return.  “Got a deck of cards we could borrow?”

Taka laughs. I shouldn’t poke the angry bear, but damn I have to get my kicks somewhere.

Richland is becoming purple. He’s definitely angry.  “I’m afraid not, Ladies. Open the door, put the girl in.” The vault door opens, and a little girl is pushed in.

“If neither you nor Miss Fujiwara will comply then the child will be eliminated.” Richland sneers at us. Dr. Morris is trying to protest, but Richland won’t hear it.

“You’re a bastard!” I yell at him. Taka doesn’t look mad, but grimly thoughtful instead.

Our obvious distress has its desired effect. Richland takes his chair again.  “You only have a few minutes to settle her fate.”

The girl wraps her arms around her middle and cries. She can’t be older than five. My chest constricts with a fierce need to protect her. Taka walks over and kneels down in front of her. Frightened, the child tries to move away from the stranger before her, but Taka holds her in place by her forearms.

“It is okay little one.”  Taka motions at me to come closer.

She sniffles,  “My name is Livia.”

I pick her up in my arms.  “Hello,
Livia. My name is Rachel, and this is Taka.” Livia lays her head on my shoulder and cries silently. In my arms, I feel something strange emanating from within her.
I don’t exactly have the time to investigate that now. She’s not a regular little girl though.