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Episode
004 |
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“I got something to say, I killed your baby today, Doesn’t mean that much to me, As long as she’s dead.” The Misfits, Last
Caress “Shades,” Emma explained, standing
at the head of the briefing room. At
the far end, Assif leaned on the table while the others along the sides were
turned towards her. Behind her, an
image of a human-looking cloud of black smoke, like a shadow that had leapt
off the ground, was displayed.
“They’re one of the more enigmatic of all the spectral entities. They do not have a psyche or identity as we
would know it. They’re a mystery to
all. The one thing that is known about
them is that they are trouble.” The digital slide switched,
revealing a picture of a series of woodcut drawings from the middle ages. Each depicted smoky apparitions present at
personal tragedies of every sort. “For
the most part, the term shade is a catch-all term for any spectral force
that’s origin is unknown.” “Sort of like calling any
four-legged creature you see a dog,” Jason commented. “Pretty much,” Emma confirmed. She turned to the screen as a third picture
came to light; this one showing a photograph of a black shadow that seemed to
be standing away from a wall. “Shades
are usually pretty isolated. They’re
detached from society and, as such, tend to avoid it. They thrive on darkness and seclusion, so
the bright lights of a city are usually deterrent enough to keep them at
bay.” Another slide clicked in, this
time revealing a barn door standing ajar while a host of farmers stood
around, aghast. “Usually, shades are
concerns for rural areas. Why this one
is attacking in the city is a mystery.” Emma handed the screen controls to
Jin and sat down at the end of the table across from Jason. “Um, like Emma said,” Jin began with a hint
of stage fright, “shades are usually rural problems. The fact that this one is in the city is
odd, but not unheard of.” The slide behind him shifted,
revealing a police crime scene. “In
1973, in a British town called Newportland, a series of three murders took
place which could not be explained.
They were fairly ghastly for the English countryside and no murderer
was ever found. Many in the paranormal
community have attributed the murder to a shade.” “Why are shades so violent?” Jason
asked to the group. Eliot moved to answer, but Sarah
spoke before he could. “As near as we
can tell, it seems to be just simple, albeit depraved, curiosity. They see humans as elaborate puzzles and
they want to understand why and how we work.
And worse, what happens when something goes wrong.” “Are they always this graphic?”
Til asked. “Not usually,” Jin answered. “The thing is, this murder was pretty
graphic. Since so little is known
about shade psychology, its impossible to tell what it’s got on its mind. But if they’re anything like poltergeists,
which they are classified as related to, then the most likely theory is that
this one has got a bone to pick.” “With the girl?” Emma asked. “With people,” Isaiah answered cynically. “Oxygen-release rounds,” Isaiah
said, slapping the clip down on the desk before Eliot. In the tightly spaced arsenal full of metal
bins, the two went over the cache of weapons they had laid out on the metal
table in the center of the room.
“According to the data, these should be our best bet against the
shade.” Eliot picked up the clip and
flipped out a round. He looked closely
at the metal casing, studying the gas injection ports. “Ever dealt with one of these?” “I’ve dealt with a poltergeist,
back in Tel Aviv,” Isaiah said, taking out a sniper rifle. “In a lot of ways, from what I hear, shades
are like poltergeists, only they don’t stay in one place.” “These are anti-spectral shields,”
Emma said, handing out necklaces to the team of five. The black ray strings held a golden charm
with a red sphere inside it. “They’re
devised using Norse magic and a combination of voodoo and bio-tech.” “Do they work?” Isaiah asked as
Til held his up to the light, studying it with disbelief. “Yes, they work,” Emma insisted. “And you know this how?” Eliot
posed, next to Sarah. The building was dusty and
dark. The night sky held a few tiny
points of light while the city beneath them cluttered the clouds with greasy
light. The remains of a long-forgotten
office stood amongst the dilapidated walls and broken glass. Sarah held her pistol down, but
ready. With her black trench coat
pulled over her combat harness, she kept a steady watch. On the far side of the room, Til carried a
submachine gun in his right hand as he paced militaristically. In the corner, Isaiah was crouched down
against the wall, dozing. In the center of the room, Eliot
stood with Emma as she drew a complex symbol in the dust on the decaying tile
floor. Sculpting an elaborate circle
with an octagon in the center, she began to scribble runes and letters inside
the design, chanting quietly as she did. Down beneath the building, the
wind began to rustle the trees. Til
and Sarah both turned as Isaiah’s head rose, instantly alert. Eliot glanced towards the broken window
closest to them, his hand supportively on Emma’s shoulder. She glanced up, watching before she went
back to the symbol. “Get ready,”
she warned. She held her hand over the
symbol, slowly drawing a line along the outer-most portion of the
circle. As her hand moved, the symbol
began to glow a bright, incandescent blue. With a sudden push, she slapped
her palm down towards the symbol, causing a ripple of power to flow through
the air. Her hand never touched the
floor, but the pressure from the magical strike blew the symbol away. She stood, wiping her forehead. “What now?” Til asked. “We wait,” Sarah said, glancing
around. “How long?” the German asked. Eliot’s head rose, his eyes locked
on the window. “Not long,” he breathed
fearfully. |
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