Dastardly Bastard(27)

“Go to the next.” Jaleel leaned in closer as the boy swiped his finger across the screen. Though the shot wasn’t much different—Lyle was maybe a few inches back, his rear end still pressed against the rock face—the shade behind the boy was deeper, more present. “These must be from Mark’s camera.”

“How do you know?” Trevor asked.

“Who else could have taken them? Plus, he’s the only one not in the picture.” Then to Lyle, he said, “Keep going.”

The pictures slid by as Lyle worked his finger over the screen. Each shot was maybe two seconds apart, playing out like a flipbook cartoon.

Finally, Jaleel put a hand on Lyle’s wrist, stopping him.

“What the fuck is that?” Trevor asked, squinting as he bent to look at the phone.

“That’s what I was looking for.” Jaleel sighed. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt it wasn’t right. Something about the image made his heart beat just a little fast in his chest. What he was seeing wasn’t possible, but there it was, hovering.

In the picture, Lyle stood at the rock face, staring into his mother’s raging eyes, his own eyes wide and scared. Behind Marsha, a thick inkblot dripped what looked like tar onto her back. The obsidian ropes played over her arms, tethering her like a puppet. It loomed, smiling.

Trevor exploded. “That thing’s got a face?”

“It’s been there the whole time, from the first photo on, just not as solid. Keep going, Lyle,” Justine said. Jaleel met the woman’s eyes. Her stare told that she knew more than she was letting on.

Lyle began scrolling again, the pictures fleeing in reverse time. Jaleel watched in stunned shock as the shadow toiled over his revolving form.

You looked like an idiot, Id said.

Shut it.

Just saying. We have work to do. Are you about done?

I’m ignoring you now.

As you wish.

The inkblot settled over Donald, and Jaleel remembered the guy’s harsh words.

“How’d a nigger like you get a cushy government job like this, anyway?”

Jaleel grimaced. The words stung still, but at least Jaleel knew Donald hadn’t been in control of himself when he’d spoken. It didn’t make it better, just a little more understandable.

The photographs continued, and Jaleel watched the arrival of the shadow as it melted backward over the edge of the chasm. It slithered like a snake, sliding over the ground, purposeful. Finally, it was gone.

“Why did he start taking pictures so early?” Lyle asked. Jaleel thought it was a damn good question.

Trevor rolled his eyes. “What else was he gonna do? He brought the camera to use it, I would think.”

“Any idea what that thing is?” Marsha asked.

“I don’t know. But I would chance a guess that it’s what we’re up against here.” Jaleel wiped fresh sweat from his forehead. Looking up, his heart sank. The day was just getting weirder by the moment.

Don’t look at it, Id hissed.

Why not?

Because it doesn’t concern you as of yet. You will see soon enough.

“And we’re supposed to fight something like this?” Trevor asked.

The guy was starting to grate on Jaleel’s nerves, but the impossibility happening overhead was a more pressing issue. He would listen to Id, though, if just for a little while longer.

Justine cleared her throat, her eyes showing just how scared she was. “You can’t fight a shadow.”





22


DONALD RAN FOR HIS LIFE. Air whipped by his face, breath burning in his lungs, as his small legs drove him further from his hunter.

Diffuse light poured into the cavern from an unknown source. The glow seemed to follow him, lighting his way as he swerved around stalagmites jutting from the ground. He wove through the sharp abutments, pressing on, knowing his pursuer was close on his heels. Donald could hear its thundering footfalls.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

He had no idea how he’d gotten there, just remembered being thrown into the chase. He recalled going back to the group, amnesia welcoming him, only to be thrust forward into darkness again. A single word floated around in his gray matter, but he couldn’t remember where it had come from.

Sunne.

“Get back here, midget!” The growl, low and guttural, came from behind him.

He knew that voice. That was why he ran. Donald tripped and shot forward.

He found himself in the foyer of the Columbia University Student Services building.

Dreams of college and a future as a writer loomed in the back of his mind. He’d won several awards for his stories in state and national competitions, one of them a scholarship to Columbia. Finishing high school had been a dream come true. He could slough off the hate-filled mocking voices that haunted him on a nightly routine. He was small, worthless, or all-around laughable. That seemed to be the popular consensus among his classmates.

She was standing in a queue for the Registrars Office when Donald stepped into line behind her. He hadn’t realized he was staring at her straight black hair, which flowed down the middle of her back, until she turned and offered him a smile. Her eyes were chocolate, soul-stealing. He thought losing his soul to her was a very good prospect. The throng shuffled forward, and she faced forward again. Donald continued eying her, knowing he was coming off poorly, in a creepy sort of way, but he wasn’t able to take his eyes off her.