Running With the Shadows of the Night, chapter 12

Are you asleep?

No. Not really.

I see they’ve added another pole. Is that for more meds?

That bag is a med to help with nausea, that one is just fluid to keep me hydrated, that one is nutrition.

And you still have the same meds for chemo?

Yeah, that’s the other pole, chemo and pain meds.

That’s a lot to keep track of.

I’m used to it. Do you mind if we don’t talk today? I mean, is it okay if you just tell the story? I want to know what happens, but I don’t have a lot of energy to talk.

I understand completely. Of course it’s alright. Do you remember that Senka had just left Kenny’s house?

Yes. She was sad because she saw that Brittany was sad.

Yes.

When Senka got back to the lighthouse keeper’s cottage, she spent several minutes sitting next to Silas, her legs draped over his and her face pressed into the crook of his neck. He said nothing, just wrapped his arms around her until at length he murmured, “Have I mentioned recently how happy I am that you learned to make yourself solid at will?” She snorted into his neck, and he reflexively pulled away. “That tickles.” He tilted his head to see her face. “Ready to tell me about it?”

She filled him in on everything she had seen and learned. “I can’t believe I didn’t see how awful he is,” she said at last. “I mean, you know, before he murdered me. But Silas, I feel terrible that I lost that woman her job. I didn’t think about who would be blamed when I wrote on the mirror.”

“Then let’s make sure she isn’t fired. Or at least, that she has a very tidy severance package.”

“I like it! Okay, so what have you been up to?” She disentangled herself and curled up in her usual corner of the loveseat.

“First, there’s something I need to tell you about last night.” He turned so that he was facing her squarely. It made for a strange tableau: the two of them deeply engaged in their conversation on the loveseat with the body of the boy as an insensible spectator. “There’s no point in talking about the fight,” Silas went on. “They are always the same: one gives blows, one takes blows. You are wounded, and you inflict wounds. They are a hateful way to settle a dispute.” Silas swept his hair back from his face, leaving his hand on top of his head as if to hold his skull in place. “There was a moment when I doubted that I could defeat the transmogrifier. I knew that either it or Ha—the bad guy would end me. I felt an urge to let it happen.” An icy chill permeated Senka. Silas sat back against the arm of the loveseat. “I have been battling him in one way or another for two hundred years or more. It seemed like enough. But then, I remembered you telling me that I owed you my existence. That you expected me to do something with it. I remembered that you…you love me.” He looked up at her, as if for confirmation. She smiled her encouragement. “And that I love you.” Tears welled in her eyes, and she had to blink to see Silas clearly. “At that moment, Signore Peluso appeared beside me like a messenger from you. He handed me the machete and pointed at you. I felt a surge of hope and strength. I knew, without the slightest doubt, that together we would defeat them.” He stopped talking. She saw that his eyes, too, were swimming with tears. They looked at each other and laughed at their shared emotion.

“Thank you,” Senka said, wiping her eyes. “Thank you for fighting to stay with me.” She laughed. “Your debt is paid. To be honest, I had forgotten I said that. I’m glad you hadn’t.”

Silas leaned forward and took her hand in his. Turning her palm up, he kissed it. “And now,” he said, “my report. Our friend here,” he gestured to the body in the rocking chair, “has completed his journey through rigor mortis, which is lucky because it will make him easier to transport and to bury. I’ve ascertained that the sun will be behind the mountains an hour earlier than it will set here, so I can go up to the cabin sooner than we thought.”

“Great! That’ll give us extra time tonight for all we have to get done.”

“Yes. I found some duct tape under the kitchen sink. We can take that with us in case there’s none at Kenny’s.”

“Good idea. From what I could see, Kenny does nothing for himself. I didn’t see a single tool in the garage, and there weren’t any sheds or outbuildings.”

“So we will need to find a shovel. I performed a street view search of his house. There are neighbors on both sides who could conceivably see him burying a body.”

“Which means they could conceivably see us burying a body.”

“Yes.”

“Silas.” Senka paused, still thinking about what she was going to say. “What do you think…I mean, anyone looking is just going to see a man burying a body, right? They won’t see me. You’re going to get some clothes anyway; why don’t you pick up something Kenny-ish, too? That way, if someone does see you, they’re likely to think it was Kenny. From what I could tell, he wears polo shirts and khakis. That’s what he was wearing before he changed into his hideous golfing pants.”

“I like that idea.” He swept his hair from his face again. “It’s going to be a busy night.”

It felt like a long wait until Silas determined it was safe to go up to the mountain clearing where the cabin had once stood. They kept busy by trying to foresee the pitfalls and snags that might arise during the night. The sun was getting low in the sky when Senka suggested they wrap the boy’s wrists in duct tape immediately rather than waiting until they got to Kenny’s. Although they knew any lingering marks would clearly have been made postmortem, they decided that the longer the tape was on, the greater the likelihood that it would affect the skin. When they finished taping, Silas straightened up and glanced out of the window. “It’s time for me to leave,” he said. “What will you do while I’m gone?”

“Chew my fingernails, if I can.”

“I will be back as quickly as possible.” He kissed Senka and glanced around the living room.

“What are you looking for?”

Silas’ gaze returned to her face. “Luna. I was going to take him with me. I forgot for a moment.”

“Oh, Silas. I’m so sorry.”

He smiled half-heartedly, kissed her again, and was gone.

She stood in the center of the room, wondering what to do with herself, then went to the laptop and opened it. With a few clicks, she was at a local television station’s website. It was the top story.

INFORMATION SOUGHT ON MISSING TEEN

Police are seeking information regarding the disappearance of missing 15-year-old Jeremy Smithe. Smithe was last seen yesterday at around 10 p.m. at his home near the Pacific Grove Golf Links. His disappearance coincides with a later disturbance at the nearby El Carmelo Cemetery. The teen was wearing black sweatpants and a black hoodie. Anyone with information is encouraged to call the police hotline.

Senka made a note of the telephone number. They would need it later. She studied the photo of the boy that accompanied the notice. It looked like a school portrait. A serious, intelligent face peered out at her from the laptop’s monitor. A surge of anger drove her out of the chair. She felt her fingers itch, like she wanted to strike something. She stood in front of the boy, of Jeremy. “I wish I could tell you how sorry I am this happened to you. More than anything, I wish I could have stopped him from killing you. I wish you could have grown up to see how wonderful life can be. If it’s any consolation, he’s ended now. He’s deader than dead. Deader than you could ever be.” She looked at him for a while longer. In a way that she never had in life, she recognized that this body, like Stanley’s, like Luna’s, was an empty shell. What made this boy Jeremy Smithe was gone. He, like they, had chosen to move on.

She went back to the laptop. She couldn’t call the hotline, but she could email the tipline. She created an anonymous email account, tapped on “Compose,” and pasted in the tipline address. In the subject box, she added, “Suspicious Activity—Golf Links.” She thought for a moment, then wrote, “I live near the PG golf links. I couldn’t sleep last night, and I was standing on my balcony when I saw the boy in the description. He was walking along by himself. I saw someone, an adult male, approach him. They talked for a minute, but the boy tried to walk away. The man followed him. Then I saw the man grab him and drag him to a car on the road that runs parallel. The boy didn’t yell or anything, so I thought maybe the man was his father taking him home because it was late, like 2 am. That’s why I didn’t report this earlier. Plus, I was distracted by the racket from the cemetery. But then I saw the report and thought I’d better write to you. The boy was dressed like it says, dark sweatpants and hoodie. The man was blond….” Senka stopped to think about the light last night, then continued, “or some other light color. He was wearing….” She stopped again to picture what she’d seen in Kenny’s closet, “a tan jacket like golfers wear on cool days. He had on light gray or white pants. I hope this helps you find the child.” She clicked on the paper airplane and the email whooshed off.

Buoyed by a sense of satisfaction, she considered what other mischief she could get up to. She decided it might be a good idea to find out more about Kenny’s girlfriend. She had never been active on social media—her publicist had taken care of all that for her—but she opened Silas’ Facebook account and went to Kenny’s page. She wasn’t particularly surprised to see that he didn’t mention his relationship status, but she clicked on one of his photos of himself with Brittany, then hovered over her image. It was tagged. Brittany Ricci. She’d commented on the photo, too: “We had so much fun that day!” Senka clicked on her name. As the new page opened up, Senka thought, You people really need to do something about your privacy settings.

She scrolled down the page and quickly recognized that Brittany posted to Facebook far less often than Kenny. She had a rudimentary presence that, unlike Kenny’s, included her relationship status. She listed her current occupation as “Model,” though she didn’t mention any representation, and noted that she had once been named Miss Teen Bakersfield. High school: Bakersfield High. No college. No doubt Kenny had met this child somewhere and promised her connections and fame. Senka paused. Brittany was in her early twenties, not a child. Not chronologically anyway. Still, she was naive if not innocent. Whatever happens, Senka thought, we can’t let Kenny implicate her.

She figured there was probably a different social media platform Brittany used, but she had no idea what it might be. When Senka had died, there was a new one starting to get big, but she couldn't remember the name. In frustration, she closed the laptop and looked around for something else to keep her busy. She didn’t expect Silas back for another hour or so. She considered going to see Ms. Wang then decided against it. She wanted to be here the minute Silas returned.

In a fit of inspiration, she scrounged up a piece of paper and a stubby pencil and started to draw a floor plan of Kenny’s house. She marked the safe in his den, his bedroom overlooking the ocean, and the garage and storage shelves loaded with bizarre memorabilia. She hadn’t explored the outside but did her best to mark the start of the slope toward the ocean and the plantings she had seen on the street side of the house. When she finished, she stepped back to get some perspective on her work. After some reflection, she added an X at the spot she thought would make a fitting temporary burial spot for Jeremy.

She was contemplating what to do next when Silas reappeared. “I didn’t expect you back yet!” she exclaimed. “Did you find anything?” She noticed a bag in his hand. “Wait a minute. Did you get clothes, too?”

Silas smirked, clearly delighting in showing off his efficiency. “I did. To both of your questions. What do you want to see first?”

“What do you think?”

“Right. Clothing.”

“Silas!”

He laughed. “Alright, just a moment.” He reached into his pants pockets and pulled out several small pieces of bone. Shoving the laptop aside, he scattered them on the small table. Senka bent down to peer at them.

“They don’t look like much. What are they?”

As he spoke, Silas separated each out from the little pile. “This is a bone of the thumb. These,” he pulled out seven small bones, all with visible tooth marks, “are also digital bones. I think these are from the right hand.”

“You mean finger bones, right?”

“Yes.” He pushed those aside and picked out two larger bones. “These—”

“Are vertebrae. I recognize those.”

“Right.” He added those to the pile of identified bones and drew forward the last bone, rounded on one side. “And this is a patella.”

“And you’re sure these are all human bones?”

“Oh, yes. Not only human but yours.”

“How can you tell that they’re mine?”

Silas looked mildly uncomfortable. “It’s hard to explain without being somewhat off-putting.”

“Please tell me. I’m interested. And I promise not to be put off.”

He looked skeptical but said, “You know that dogs have the ability to detect thousands of smells, faint smells, even, that humans are oblivious to.”

“Yes, but, Silas, you never smelled me, my body.”

“That was just an example. You know, also, that mantis shrimp can see a range of color humans can barely conceive of.”

“I didn’t, but I believe you.”

“They’re a breathtaking part of nature.”

“Okay.” Senka crossed her arms and leaned against the edge of the table in a ‘get on with the story’ posture.

“Right. Well, Vampires are able to detect each particular human’s essence. If I had ever tasted your blood, it would be a great deal stronger, but even without that, since the moment I first encountered you, I would know every room you’ve ever entered in life or in death. I would know any article of clothing you’d ever worn. And I certainly know your bones.”

“I’m not put off by that. I think it’s kind of…sexy. I didn’t know I had an essence.”

“Oh, yes. It’s quite distinct. I find it particularly enticing.” They were standing close now, and Senka reached up and kissed him. When they separated, she said, “You’ve got a mighty fine essence, too, mister.” Getting back to the task at hand she added, “You want to show me your clothes now?”

“Not yet,” Silas said, though he stretched his hand out for the shopping bag nonetheless. “I have one or two more treasures from the woods.” He reached into the bag and pulled out a long bone. “Left femur.” He reached in again. “Two ribs. Parietal bone. And, very important, mandible, though this one is a bit mangled, I’m afraid.” All of the bones bore the marks of animal gnawing, but the jawbone looked like it had been in a tug-of-war.

Senka found herself regarding the bones with mixed feelings. She was impressed that Silas had found them all so quickly and she was excited to have so much material to plant in Kenny’s house. On the other hand, she was acutely aware that she was looking at her own remains, and the surreality of the moment had her feeling unmoored from her existence. She recognized the feeling as the same sense of otherness that had prompted her to let go of the name Sarah and adopt Senka, woman of the shadows. These bones were no more her than Jeremy’s body was him. With that thought, she felt stronger again, ready for action. “Time to put all of this stuff to use, don’t you think?”

Silas took the folded clothes out of his shopping bag. As he changed into a revoltingly Kenny-like polo shirt, khakis, and a windbreaker, Senka transferred the bones into the now-empty bag. She glanced around the room to make sure she’d gotten everything and noticed a soft, gray sweater on top of the stack of new clothes. She lifted it and held it against her. “You found a cashmere sweater! This is exactly like the one you were wearing when I first saw you. I thought you were so gorgeous.” Silas grinned at her as he tucked his long, dark hair into a knit cap, then presented himself for inspection. “What do you think? Will I pass for Kenny?”

“You look good enough to be mistaken for him at a distance,” she said. She showed Silas the rough ground plan she had drawn and pointed out the X of their destination.

“This is helpful,” he said. “It will save us from having to explore options once we get there. We need one more thing. Wait here for a moment.” He slipped from the cottage and was back in a few minutes carrying a shovel. “Lighthouse maintenance shed,” he explained. He handed it to Senka, then lifted Jeremy’s seated body from its chair as if it weighed nothing. Senka held the shopping bag and the shovel in one hand and grasped Silas’ arm with the other.

They stood in a stand of trees at the property line of Kenny’s house and with a clear view of the front door. The house looked dark, though a line of light showed at the bottom of several windows. “It looks like he has shades drawn,” Senka said. “I’d better have a look inside so we don’t walk in on him. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

She flew up to the house and directly to the den window, wafting through it and the heavy blackout shade that covered it. The room was ablaze with light. Kenny sat alone in front of the television watching a football game. Before she had met him, Sarah had known nothing about football. Kenny’s obsession with it meant that she had learned about it whether she wanted to or not. One of the things Senka was sure of was that it was not a summer sport, which meant that he was either watching a game he had recorded or one that was being re-aired. Whichever the case, it didn’t seem like there was anything to guarantee the game holding his interest till the end.

She flitted through the rest of the house, making sure to peek into the four unused guestrooms. Brittany was nowhere to be found. Did Kenny take her home, or did she muster enough self-respect to call an Uber and reclaim her life? Senka hoped for the latter but suspected it was the former. She zipped back through the den, checking that Kenny was where she’d last seen him, then flew back to Silas. “There are blackout shades covering all the big windows. He’s watching television in the den. I think we can get into the garage without him seeing us, but I can’t be sure that he’ll stay there. If he did see you, you could always ‘persuade’ him he hadn’t, couldn’t you?”

“It might become complicated if he called the police instead of confronting me.”

“Let’s go. I can check on him periodically while we’re working.” Silas nodded his agreement, and they carried their various burdens to the front door. While Silas waited, Senka went through the door and unlocked it, opening it wide for him to carry Jeremy through. Grabbing the bag and shovel, she closed the front door and hurried to get the door into the garage.

They had to walk around Kenny’s little sportscar to get to his many storage shelves. They made their way to the farthest corner, hidden behind the bank of shelving, and Silas set Jeremy down gently on the concrete floor. They worked quickly, propping Jeremy against a shelf and duct-taping his arms to one of the supports. Feeling a bit guilty, Senka pulled a dozen or more hairs from his head and sprinkled them on one of the shelves and on the floor.

They left him there and moved to the unit that Senka had explored earlier. She pointed out the box where she’d found her dresses. “Let’s see if there are other boxes with my stuff. I’m hoping we can find one that would lend itself to bone storage better than mixing them with evening gowns.” They worked systematically, Silas starting at one end of the shelving unit, Senka at the other, and quickly checked the contents of each box. They found more gowns, Sarah’s two Emmy awards shrouded in bubble wrap, autographed publicity photos each in its own protective sleeve. Every object was accompanied by a note of its appraised value. There was nothing personal or sentimental, nothing that couldn’t be used as currency.

“There is no jewelry in these boxes. Do you think he’s already sold it all?” Silas asked when they met in the middle of the shelving unit.

“I didn’t have any valuable jewelry. Not of monetary value, anyway. That wasn’t really my thing. Other than my engagement ring, that is. You know, that’s something. I suppose he could have taken it apart and sold the diamonds. I mean, wouldn’t it have raised questions if he had the ring? If he’d tried to sell it? The police would’ve asked why I didn’t take it with me.”

“It does seem like a reasonable question, although I suppose he could have told them that you left it behind.”

“I guess. Anyway, I think we’re going to have to shift some contents around to make an empty box. One just for the bones. It doesn’t make sense to mix them with any of the existing contents.”

They combined two cartons of gowns and filled the newly empty box with the bones—they had to tilt the femur at an angle to make it fit—and slid it back onto the shelf, lining it up exactly with the others. That done, they went back to Jeremy. Silas freed his wrists from the duct tape they had applied that morning, stuffing it under the shelving unit as though Kenny had forgotten to get rid of it. Then he tore the tape holding Jeremy’s arms, pulling it free and stuffing it into his pocket. A subtle amount of tape residue remained on the shelf. He turned to Senka. “On to the next chapter?” He lifted Jeremy while Senka grabbed the roll of tape, the bag, and the shovel. She opened the door to the entryway and peeked out. The television was still blasting football action. She could hear no sounds from the rest of the house. They slipped out and back through the front door, keeping to the shadows as they skirted around to the ocean side of the house.

When they got to the spot Senka had marked on her ground plan, Silas laid Jeremy’s body gently on the ground. As Senka had hoped, the brush and the hillside helped to shield them from the house while still affording a view by the neighbors. Still, if Kenny looked out a window, he would be likely to see them. “I would feel more confident,” Silas said, “If you were to watch Kenny while I did the digging.” Senka didn’t like the idea of leaving him but saw the logic in his suggestion. “I’ll be back before long. Good luck.” She flew up the hill and back to the house.

Kenny was still sitting where she had left him. Looking at him, she found herself simultaneously fascinated and disgusted, as if she were inspecting a particularly noxious specimen in an entomological display. The memory of him watching her as she died, so emotionless, so calculating, returned to her. She remembered the terror that she had felt then as if it had happened to someone else. That person, she thought, the person that I was…she doesn’t need revenge. She needs justice.

Senka drifted around the room looking at various objects she had only glanced at earlier in the day. She passed by the nude portrait of Brittany and pushed the edge of the frame so it hung askew. She had a feeling Brittany wouldn’t mind if it disappeared altogether. She walked over to her own picture and, glancing back over her shoulder to see that Kenny was still watching the game, tugged on the corner and swung the poster back, revealing the safe.

For the first time since she had died, she wondered just how much she could interact with a living person. She went to Kenny and rested her elbows on the back of his club chair. He didn’t appear to notice. She leaned toward his ear and whispered, “Kenny?” Nothing. She raised her voice. “Kenny?” No reaction. As loudly as she could she bellowed, “Kenny!” He reached up and scratched his ear.

The television remote was tucked into a little pouch attached to his chair, the top half sticking up. She pressed the power button. The television went off. Kenny sat up. She pressed it again and the TV popped on. “Fucking internet,” Kenny said, sitting back. She pressed the button once more. “Goddamn it,” Kenny growled, getting up.

Oh, shit! Senka thought. The last thing she wanted was for him to leave the room. She turned the TV back on again. He paused and glanced back as the game resumed but continued toward the door at the far end of the room. Senka hadn’t looked in there during her previous visit. When Kenny opened the door, she was relieved to glimpse a sink and toilet. He left the door open as he raised the lid and let out a copious stream. He flushed and came back into the den, closing the door after him.

I always knew you didn’t wash your hands, Senka thought. Noticing the poster hanging open, he went to it and swung it closed, pulling on it and closing it again to test the mechanism. He looked at it for a moment, shook his head, and started back to his chair. Instead of sitting, he plucked the remote from its holder and hit the pause button, then headed for the door that led to the rest of the house. Shit, shit, shit, Senka thought. She reassured herself that he had paused the television, so he must be coming back. She followed him past the staircase and into the kitchen where he filled a glass from his growler of hipster ale.

Her relief was short-lived. With the glass of beer in hand, Kenny turned toward the sliding glass door that led from the kitchen to the patio overlooking the ocean and the hill where Silas was digging. Senka stood in horror as he pushed a button next to the door and the privacy shade began to roll up into its holder. Snapping out of her panicked freeze, she sprang through the moving shade and the glass door and gripped the outside handle, holding the door closed with all her strength. She craned her neck to see over her shoulder. Silas, his back to the house, kept digging. He hadn’t noticed the change as light from the kitchen streamed through the door and across the yard.

Senka felt the door jiggle. All of her attention went back to keeping Kenny from coming outside and seeing Silas. He was looking confused, alternately clicking the lock back and forth and pulling on the door. He set his beer on the counter and used both hands to try to open it. Senka fought to keep it closed. Her face took on a snarl of determination and effort. Suddenly, she heard a high-pitched noise on the other side of the door. She looked up. Kenny was staring directly at her, his face a mask of shock and terror. He had backed away from the door and was pressed against the refrigerator. She realized that in her effort to keep the door closed, she had made herself as solid as she had ever been. Solid enough that he had seen her. She almost laughed. Her snarl must have been something to behold. She regarded him for a moment longer, then let herself fade.

Kenny continued to stare at the door for several minutes. He was so pale that Senka thought he might pass out. Finally, his hands shaking, he picked up his beer and drained the glass. He flicked the lock on the door and poked the button to start the shade descending. Senka slipped in and watched him refill his glass and carry it unsteadily back to the den. He sat in his club chair, gazing at the floor, his beer forgotten in his hands. After some time, he turned and looked at the poster. Shaking his head again, he turned back to the frozen image on his television. “You are fucking loony-toons,” he said aloud. “You weirded yourself out with your own reflection.” He laughed. “Fucking Brittany and all her questions tonight. And Dolores writing on the mirror. What the fuck was that about?” He raised his glass and took a sizeable swallow. Senka noticed that his hand was steady now. “I’m firing her tomorrow,” he said and hit play on the remote.

Senka stayed with him for another fifteen minutes by the clock on his desk, chastising herself for giving in to the temptation to mess with Kenny, then went to check on Silas’ progress.

He was carefully replacing the ground cover that had been disturbed by his digging and looked up when she arrived. He dusted his hands on his pants. “Does it look believable to you?” he asked in a whisper.

“It’s perfect. It has just the right balance of an effort to hide it and indications of disturbed earth for the police to find it. Where shall we leave the shovel?” Without a word, Silas tossed it down the hill. It disappeared into some brush. “What about your fingerprints?” Senka asked, alarmed.

“Vampires do not leave fingerprints. If we did, they would be all over the boxes in the garage.”

“Oh, I should have thought to ask about that.”

“No need. We are a team. Shall we go make a phone call?” She placed her hand in his, and they were gone.

So they’re going to call the tipline and pretend they’re neighbors?

Yes. Well, Silas did because Senka can’t be heard on a phone.

Yeah….

Do you want to sleep now?

I guess. You’ll be here?

Oh, yes, I’ll be here….

Hey, Senka?

Ah. How long have you known?

A long time.

I see….What was your question?

You know when you told about the body not being the thing that makes a person who they are?

Yes.

Is the thing that stays the soul?

Hm…that’s a complicated question. I guess I would say that some people would call it a soul.

But not everyone.

No, not everyone. There are lots of names for it.

Like what?

Atman, pneuma, jiva, spirit, ghost, energy. Lots more.

Not everyone chooses a new name when they die, right?

That’s right.

But you did.

Yes. But if the thing that stays is the essence of a person, it makes sense for them to keep their life name. For me, being alone in the cabin for so many years changed me. I wasn’t Sarah anymore. It’s another choice we can make when we die if we want.

I would want to keep my name. So my mom would know what to call me.

That makes sense.

Goodnight.

Sleep well, little one.

___________

Go on to Chapter 13