The Marradith Ryder Series: The Art of Shadows, Part 43

Shannon slammed the front door behind her.

“What are you two talking about?” she demanded. “And Miranda, what are you doing here?”

It was obvious to her that she’s just walked in on her boyfriend interrogating her stepmother about the Sojourners; that much she’d heard. Ryan crossed his arms and stood his ground, not speaking. Miranda shook her head, and reached for her purse.

“Shannon, I didn’t come here to start problems between you and your man,” she said. “There are matters to discuss…”

“Well that cat’s out of the bag now, ” Ryan said. “So why don’t you tell her what you told me?”

Shannon looked at Miranda. Her stepmother was a tiny woman, but her steely dark eyes spoke to her strength. She couldn’t remember seeing real fear in Miranda’s eyes before.

She could see it now.

“What did you do to make them come after you?”

“It has to do with Rafael Castillo.”

“Okay. So what now?” Shannon replied. “Do you think you were followed here?”

Miranda shook her head. “I don’t think so. They would stay back because of him anyway, wouldn’t they?” she nodded towards Ryan.

“Not neccesarily,” Shannon replied. “We may have had a run in with someone before.”

“Wait a minute. What are you talking about?” Ryan demanded.

“The car that ran you over at the precinct a few months ago? It could have been one of them.”

Ryan touched his side, a flare of pain from the injury to his rib moving through his body. A phantom pain, but he shivered anyway. “You knew that for sure? And you didn’t tell me?”

Shannon approached him carefully, placing a hand on his arm. ” I had some suspicions, but no proof.”

“That ‘accident’ was supposed to keep me off of the Marradith Ryder case. Why is the girl that important?”

Shannon shrugged. “Miranda and I have been trying to figure that out. If she’s what we think she is- a hybrid- with werewolf blood and maybe something else, too, she can be valuable to a lot of people.”

“To the same people that wanted Castillo out of the way?” Ryan asked. “Shannon, I want to know the rest of it. Everything that you know, I need to hear.”

“Let’s not talk about it here. ”

“I agree,” Miranda said.

“I prefer to do this alone,” Shannon said. “Can you stay by yourself a while?” she said to Miranda.

The older woman met her eyes with quiet fury. “Yes.”

****

“This shit is starting to get really old,” Ryan said.

Shannon and Ryan had walked down to the park, and were sitting alone on a bench. Sunlight darted in and out of the trees. Shannon watched as a group of children on skates whizzed past them, their laughter carried away on the breeze.

They were alone in this quiet, still space.

“I told you as much as I could at one time,” she began carefully. “I didn’t want to bring the subject of the hit and run up without something solid to give you. And I don’t know that I will ever have that.”

“That might be acceptable if you’d ever stopped working on the case yourself,” he snapped. “How am I supposed to trust you?”

Shannon put her hands in her pockets. “You know why I feel the way that I do about this. My father died and I want justice for him. I didn’t want to go as far as Miranda did—obviously she’s in over her head. But yes, I did my research on the Sojourners, in any way that I could.”

“I love you, Shannon,” he said softly. “I do hope you know that. But this is not something that I can have in my life. If you can’t drop this vendetta…. I don’t see how it can end well for you. And it certainly can’t end well for Miranda. She made a strike against these people, whether she wants to look at it that way or not. If they are looking for her I don’t want her around you. I won’t have her putting you in further danger.”

Shannon closed her eyes for a moment. She shivered. The breeze chilled her arms beneath the coat she wore. When she opened her eyes, Ryan’s face swam in the tears that clouded her vision.

“I love you too,” she said. Despite the fact that she kept secrets from him, when she said she loved him, she knew it was true.

“I don’t know what you need to hear from me,” Shannon said. “Other than I never thought this would happen between us. And I certainly never thought you would believe the truth about my family, and about the Sojourners. That was a gift that was too much to ask.”

He touched her face. “What’s too much is putting yourself in danger with these people. That’s the one thing that I won’t stand for. It has to change, right now.”

His hand was warm against her face. She leaned forward and kissed him.

He returned the touch. Shannon was surprised at how passionate he was. He’d never been one to kiss this way in public.

She let him draw her close.

Shannon already had the knife in her hand. One quick plunge, and he drew away, in a spasm of wordless pain. She drove it deeper a second time, until the knife couldn’t go any further.

Later, she would remember the look in his eyes. As she stood to walk away, she saw him mouth one word before he fell to the pavement.

Why?

****

Back at Shannon’s apartment, Miranda was waiting. “Is it done?”

“Yes,” Shannon took off her black coat and shoved it into a plastic bag.

“Good,” Miranda spat. “You should never have been involved with someone like him, a cop. And to tell him our secrets? He knew too much.”

“I know that. I did what I had to,” Shannon said between gritted teeth. “We need to go.”

_______________________________

©2011 Lori Titus

“They didn’t prepare you for this, did they?”
 
The comment came back to Sarah as she huddled in the supply closet, trembling, breathing in the harsh scent of crushed chalk, dust and musty paper. Could that have been only a few days earlier?
 
”People want to see their little darlings as innocent,” Jane Pearce had told her. “You want to believe it, too. Wait. The truth comes out after you’ve been with them a while.”
 
“What truth?”
 
Jane laughed, a harsh little bark. “There be monsters here. That’s what. There’s nothing meaner than a child. Wait. You’ll find out.”
 
At the time Sarah dismissed the remark as the ranting of a jaded teacher. At the time, Sarah was fresh, new to the classroom, enthusiastic about her position and eager to engage with young minds awaiting her influence.
 
Now she knew.
 
There were monsters in the classroom.
 
And now they were out there, hunting her.
 
Sarah shifted. Her legs were cramped. The stacked boxes left little room for her to squeeze into the closet. The boy, Tyler, had taken her hand and guided her down the hall as the other children were busy attacking Jane. Sarah had been too shocked to move on her own.
 
The riot began in the cafeteria. She and Jane were hall monitors. She had no idea what sparked the uproar. Suddenly pupils were throwing plates and cups, splattering the walls with food, shouting and screaming. The principal waded into the melee, trying to restore order. Someone hit him with a chair. He stumbled to his knees and they were on him, kicking and stomping, their voices blending into a horrible roar.
 
“Run, dammit. Run!” Jane shouted and went forward to try and help the principal.
 
“Come on,” a voice beside her said as Sarah watched in horror. She looked down and saw Tyler, a little boy, dark hair, dark eyes large in a pale face. “Don’t be afraid,” he told her. “I’m gonna help you.”
 
It seemed like hours ago the boy had left her crouching in the dark closet. It was quiet now. Too quiet. The screams, the cacophonous roar of many raised voices, the rumble and thud of little feet up and down the hallways outside her sanctum—all had faded away, been replaced now only by the hum of blood in her veins with the beat of her heart.
 
Was it safe to leave the closet?
 
Sarah started to reach for the knob, then hesitated. What if they were out there, waiting for her to… What? What would they do to her if they found her? What had they done to Jane and the others? A wave of fear set her to shivering. Sarah clutched her arms round herself, squeezed shut her eyes and took a sibilant breath. It seemed she’d been holding her breath the whole time she was in this closet. Her chest ached with the tension.
 
Sarah wanted to open the door. She wanted to go out and see it had only been a dream. See her pupils smiling up from their desks, obedient and eager to learn. She wanted to forget what really had happened. Sarah wanted desperately to go home. She wanted to be safe.
 
She sighed. Fearful they might have heard the sound, Sarah clapped a hand over her mouth. She cocked an ear, listening.
 
Silence. Nothing but silence.
 
She shifted her position. Pins and needles in her aching legs. Did she dare open the door? She raised a hand toward the knob, then drew it back. How long would she have to wait? Surely someone would come and rescue her. Wouldn’t they?
 
 Time passed and silence reigned.
 
When she could stand it no longer, Sarah crept closer to the door and opened it just enough to peer out. Seeing no movement, she opened the door wider and stuck out her head. A shadow moved against the distant wall and Sarah drew back. Her heart thudded like a drum. Her mouth felt dry as sand.
 
The scrape of a shoe on the oiled floorboards of the hall and Sarah trembled with fear. A tap at the door forced her back as far as she could go in the closet.
 
“It’s me,” a child’s voice whispered.
 
He’d come back for her. Was it safe to open the door?
 
“Tyler?” she asked, her voice squeaking with the tension.
 
“It’s okay. You can come out now.”
 
Cautiously, Sarah opened the door. The boy gazed up at her, reached out a hand. She took his hand and stepped out. “You’re sure? It’s safe?”
 
The boy nodded.
 
“Miss Pearce—is she…”
 
“She’s okay. She sent me to get you.”
 
“But they were hurting her. I saw…”
 
“It’s okay.”
 
Surely she could trust this boy. It must not have been as bad as she imagined. Holding Tyler’s hand, Sarah went with him back to the cafeteria.
 
All was silent along the way. She saw no sign of damage. Everything appeared normal. They came to the double doors leading to the cafeteria. Sarah hesitated. She looked down at Tyler.
 
The boy smiled.
 
There was nothing to worry about. They were only children. How could she have let her imagination get the best of her? Sarah put a palm against the door and pushed it open.
 
They set upon her as soon as she came through the opening. Tiny hands gripping her arms, her legs, her clothing. They pulled her to the floor and began kicking and biting and pummeling her. Sarah screamed, throwing up her hands in front of her face, doubling into a fetal position, trying in vain to avoid the pain.
 
Tyler watched numbly until Sarah stopped moving and lay still and silent like the other staff. Then he looked over at the older boy who was leader of the pack. “She trusted me,” he whispered.
 
The other boy stepped closer and laid a hand on Tyler’s shoulder. “You done good. That’s why we sent you. It’s okay. Don’t feel bad. Like I said, it was you or her.”

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©2011 J. R. Lindermuth

A longtime admirer of Poe, J. R. Lindermuth is often tempted into strange territory in his writing. He has published nine novels and numerous short stories.