It was Carnival in Shadows Fall once again. A time of feasting and revelry, parades and fairs, conjurors and costumes and marvels. At the edge of town, tents and stalls had appeared all over Lumpkin Hill as though by magic, springing up overnight like the kind of mushroom that gives unquiet dreams when eaten. Bands played and couples danced, and children ran shrieking through the good-natured crowds, so full of happiness and excitement they felt as if they might explode at any moment, and sprinkle all the people with wild delight and joie de vivre.
It was early in the evening in the middle of November, the darkening sky just dark enough to set off the glowing paper lanterns and the occasional spontaneous burst of fireworks. A brisk wind stirred the flags and pennants and the ladies’ dresses, and spread the smell of barbecues and roasting chestnuts across the cool evening air, already sharp with the promise of winter. A dozen songs rose and fell, somehow never clashing but always finding some harmony they could agree on.
It was a time of celebration, of life and living; a final farewell for those passing through the Forever Door, and a time of comfort for those who stayed behind, or who had not yet worked up the courage to approach the Door. Even those who are only partly alive can still fear the final darkness, the final mystery. But there was never any pressure or impatience; the Door had always been there, and always would be. In the meantime, it was Carnival, so eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow is another day in Shadows Fall.
Leonard Ash stood alone by a brightly-coloured tent offering mulled wine, the steaming cup forgotten in his hand. He looked out over the Carnival, watching the people come and go, and wished he could be like them, happy in their everyday lives, full of hope and purpose and meaning. Ash no longer had a future, and though he tried hard not to get too depressed about it, there were times when he missed the simple pleasures of planning things to do, places to go, people to meet. As it was, he went on from day to day, and tried to be content with that.
Ash had been dead almost three years now, but he didn’t like to complain. Like everyone else who was no longer entirely real, he could feel the constant call of the Forever Door, but he couldn’t leave Shadows Fall. Not yet. He looked out over the crowds at the town below, spread out in the growing gloom, its street lights glowing proudly against the coming night. No one knew how old the town was; it was older even than its own records. Ash used to find its sense of permanence comforting, knowing that one thing at least was constant in an ever-changing world. But since his death he’d discovered a growing sense of resentment at the knowledge that the town would go on quite happily without him, not needing or missing him in the least. He felt his leaving, as and when it finally happened, ought to leave a distinct gap; a space defined by his absence. He could accept the thought that his life hadn’t mattered, but he liked to think he’d at least been noticed. He smiled sourly. He’d always been a loner, by choice and temperament, and it was a bit late now to be having second thoughts. But though he would have liked just to plunge into the Carnival crowd and forget his problems in casual revelry, it wasn’t in him. He’d always chosen his own path, gone his own way, and the comfort of crowds was denied him.
A stilt-walker lurched past, ducking his head now and again to avoid the strings of lamps criss-crossing above the tents and stalls. He doffed his battered top hat to Ash, who nodded back politely. He’d never liked heights. He looked deliberately in a different direction, and smiled as he spotted an Aunt Sally standing patiently before a dozen small children, her straw-filled stomach acting as a lucky dip for their eager hands. They all found toys or candy, and none of them were disappointed. The female scarecrow looked across at Ash, a contented smile on her cloth face. She raised a ragged arm in greeting, and Ash smiled back stiffly. Even a scarecrow was more alive than he was. He realized he was feeling sorry for himself again, but couldn’t bring himself to give a damn. It was a dirty job, but someone had to do it.
He looked around, searching for something to distract him. That was why he’d come out, after all. At the base of the hill, a Yeti and a Bigfoot were giving kids rides on their shoulders. A cartoon mouse with a giant mallet was chasing a cartoon cat. And six different versions of Robin Hood were holding an impromptu archery competition, and arguing more or less good-naturedly as to which of them was the realer. All the usual faces, in other words. Just another evening in Shadows Fall.
Leonard Ash was a tall, gangling sort, with an amiable face and hair that always looked as though it could use a good combing. Even at his best he tended to look as if he’d left the house in a hurry. He had calm, thoughtful eyes that were sometimes grey and sometimes blue, and missed very little. He lived, if that was the right word, with his parents, and had few friends, though that was no one’s fault but his own. He’d never been particularly gregarious, even before he died. He was thirty-two, and had been for almost three years now. Nothing special to look at; just another face in the crowd. If you’d asked him, he’d have said he was happy enough, mostly, but he would have had to think about it for a moment first. He looked out over the tents and the stalls and all the people, an ordinary-looking man whose greatest sorrow was that he had no one to dance with. That was about to change, dramatically. He had no right to be surprised. Nothing ever stays the same for long in Shadows Fall.
Not far away, Mayor Rhea Frazier shared a smile and a joke with an elderly couple whose faces were familiar even if their names weren’t, and wondered how best to rid herself of the confused-looking man who’d attached himself to her. He’d only just arrived in Shadows Fall, and didn’t seem entirely sure what had brought him there. In the meantime, Rhea had made the mistake of showing him a sympathetic face, and he’d latched on to her like a long-lost friend. Rhea didn’t mind, except that he was distracting her from her Mayoral duties of shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries with as many voters as possible, while simultaneously reminding them of the upcoming election for Mayor, and her excellent record in that position. Voters tended to forget all the good things you did for them, if you weren’t careful to remind them now and again.
Rhea Frazier was a brisk, good-looking black woman in her mid-thirties, with short cropped hair, a direct gaze and a professional smile. She wore fashionable clothes with style and dignity, and had a mind like a rat-trap; solid, reliable and unforgiving. Together with Sheriff Erikson, Rhea Frazier was what passed for authority in Shadows Fall. The town had a way of sorting out its own problems, that was part of its nature, but still there were times when things threatened to get out of hand, and then either Rhea or the Sheriff would step in. She tended to play the voice of reason, and present a sympathetic and impartial ear, while the Sheriff tended to glare at everyone menacingly.
There was a town Court and a town jail, but neither of them saw a lot of use. Few people wanted to cross the Sheriff, so Rhea spent a lot of her time listening to people’s troubles, and then directing them to those people in the community who could best help them. She enjoyed her work, and had every intention of continuing it for as long as possible. On the whole, the town seemed happy enough with her work, which was just as well. Shadows Fall had some efficient but not terribly nice ways of dealing with Mayors who couldn’t cut the mustard.
Rhea glanced unobtrusively at the man at her side, and thought it was time she did something about him. Adrian Stone was a short, middle-aged man with thinning hair and sad eyes. He kept looking about him in a vague, hopeful way, but was quite unable to tell Rhea what he was looking for, or what had called him to Shadows Fall. It wasn’t an uncommon situation. The elderly couple said their goodbyes and moved off into the crowd, and Rhea decided she’d better give her new friend a nudge in the right direction. Like most visitors, he’d lost something or someone precious, and had come to Shadows Fall in search of it. All she had to do was help him remember what it was.
‘Tell me, Adrian; are you married?’
Stone smiled, and shook his head almost apologetically. ‘No; I never found the right woman. Or she never found me. Anyway, there’s only ever been me.’
‘How about your parents? Were you very close?’
Stone shrugged, embarrassed, and looked away. ‘My father was always away. And my mother was not a . . . demonstrative woman. I never had a brother or a sister, and since we were moving all the time, there were never any friends, really. I never wanted for anything money could buy, but then, money isn’t everything, is it?’
‘You must have been close to someone,’ said Rhea patiently. ‘What about the people you work with?’
‘You couldn’t really call them friends,’ said Stone. ‘They were just people in the office; someone to smile at and chat with, and wave vague goodbyes to at the end of the day. We kept to ourselves, and concentrated on getting the job done. The management didn’t believe in wasted time or idle hands. I didn’t mind. I’ve always been . . . awkward in company, and it was interesting work, mostly.’
Rhea looked at him exasperatedly. ‘There must have been someone; some time in your life when you were happy! Think, Adrian! If you could relive any part of your life, any part at all, what would you choose?’
Stone stood silently for a long moment, his gaze turned inwards. And then the clouds lifted from his brow, and he smiled suddenly, looking somehow younger, and more at peace with himself.
‘I had a dog called Prince, when I was a boy. A great big boxer dog with an ugly face and a heart as big as he was. I was six years old, and we went everywhere together. I could talk to him, tell him things I couldn’t tell anyone else. I loved my dog, and he loved me.’
Stone smiled shyly at Rhea, and she noticed without surprise that he was now less than half his previous age; a slight young man in his mid-twenties. He had all his hair and he stood a little straighter, but his eyes were still sad.
‘I suppose everyone thinks their dog is special, but Prince really was. I taught him tricks, and I was never scared or uncertain or alone when he was there. He died just before my seventh birthday. He had a growth, a cancer in his stomach. Apparently boxers are prone to such things, though of course I didn’t know that at the time.’ He frowned, remembering. He was a teenager now, growing steadily younger as he talked.
‘I came home from school one day, and Prince wasn’t there. My father told me that he’d taken Prince to the vet, and had him put to sleep. Prince had been ill for some time, growing weaker and thinner, but I’d just assumed he’d get better. I was only six, after all. My father explained to me that Prince wasn’t going to get better, ever, that he’d been in a lot of pain, and it really wasn’t fair to let him go on suffering. He told me that Prince had been very well-behaved, right to the end. The vet gave him an overdose of anaesthetic, and Prince closed his eyes, and went to sleep for ever. I don’t know what the vet did with the body. My father never brought it home. Perhaps he thought it would upset me.’
Adrian Stone looked up at Rhea, his mouth quivering, a six-year-old boy with eyes full of tears he would not shed. ‘I loved my dog and he loved me. The only one who ever did.’
Rhea knelt down beside him. ‘What did Prince look like? Did he have any special markings?’
‘Yes. He had a white mark on his forehead, like a star.’
Rhea took him by the shoulders and turned him gently round. The crowd parted before them to reveal a large boxer dog with a white mark on its forehead. ‘Is that him, Adrian?’
‘Prince!’ The dog’s ears pricked up as the boy called his name, and he came bounding forward to leap around the boy like a great overgrown puppy. Adrian Stone, six years old, happy at last, ran off with his dog and vanished into the crowd.
Rhea got to her feet again, and shook her head, smiling slightly. If only all of her problems could be solved that easily. Someone waved to her at the corner of her eye, and she looked round to see Sheriff Richard Erikson making his way towards her. The crowd parted before him, giving him plenty of room. Rhea groaned silently, and wondered what had gone wrong this time. More and more these days, it seemed to her that Richard only sought her out when he had a problem he couldn’t solve, so he could dump it in her lap and turn his back on it with a clear conscience. It hadn’t always been that way. They’d been friends once, and probably still were, if you stretched the term a bit. She kept all that out of her face, and nodded coolly to Erikson as he came up to her.
The Sheriff was a tall, broad-shouldered man in his mid-thirties with dark hair and darker eyes. He was handsome enough, in an overpowering sort of way, and his great muscular frame gave him a sense of presence that was almost intimidating. Not that Rhea ever allowed herself to be intimidated, by Erikson or anyone else. She smiled briefly at him, and he nodded calmly in return, as though he’d just happened to cross her path.
‘Hello, Rhea. You’re looking very smart, as always.’
‘Thank you, Richard. You’re looking very yourself.’
He didn’t smile. Instead, he looked out over the crowds with a thoughtful, proprietary air. ‘A good turn-out, Rhea. Most of the town’s here tonight.’
‘I should hope so,’ said Rhea. ‘This is Carnival, after all. One of the few times in the year we all get to let our hair down, and allow our neuroses to run free. A night like this does more to help people than a dozen sessions on a psychiatrist’s couch. But then, you don’t believe in frivolous things like having a good time, do you?’
‘Not when I’m the one who has to keep the peace and clean up the mess afterwards. I’m the one who has to keep an eye on the drunks and the creeps and the troublemakers, and keep the paranormals from settling old scores. Hell, half the community are still carrying hurts and grudges from before they came here, and with the town’s magic running loose and wild tonight, that’s like throwing fireworks into an open fire. Carnival’s a dangerous time to be walking around with an open mind. You never know who might walk in.’
Rhea shrugged. ‘We’ve had this conversation before, Richard, and no doubt will again. We’re both right, and we’re both wrong, but then, that’s Shadows Fall for you. But whatever we say or think, celebrations like Carnival are necessary. They’re a safety valve, a mostly harmless way of letting off steam before the pressure gets too great. You worry too much, Richard. The town is quite capable of looking after itself.’
‘Yes,’ said Erikson. ‘It probably is. But the town does what’s best for the town, not for the people who live in it. We stand between them and the town, and that’s all that makes living here bearable. People weren’t meant to live this close to magic; it brings out the worst as well as the best in us.’
Rhea looked at him thoughtfully. ‘I can’t believe we’re actually just standing here chatting, for a change. Are you sure there isn’t some dire emergency you want to drop on me from a great height and a safe distance?’
Erikson smiled slightly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. ‘Everything seems to be in order. Or as close as it ever gets in Shadows Fall. But I’ve a bad feeling about this evening, and it won’t go away. If anything, it’s getting worse. Have you noticed how many of the paranormals are out tonight, even those who wouldn’t normally put in an appearance for anything less than divine intervention? I’ve seen faces tonight I thought I’d never see, and some I thought were just rumours.’
‘What are they doing?’ said Rhea, frowning. She tried to look about her without giving the impression of doing so.
‘They’re not doing anything,’ said Erikson. ‘They’re just . . . waiting. Waiting for something that’s going to happen. You can feel the expectancy almost crackling on the air when you get near them. Something’s coming to Carnival, Rhea. Something bad.’
Rhea scowled, and glared openly at the crowds around her. Reluctant though she was to admit it, the Sheriff had a point. There was something in the air. There were too many nervous eyes and forced smiles, and laughter that rang too loudly and too long. Nothing special, nothing you could put your finger on, just . . . something. Rhea shuddered suddenly, and had to fight down a growing urge to peer back over her shoulder in case something was creeping up on her. She breathed deeply and pushed the thought firmly aside. There was nothing wrong. It was all in the mind. She’d been perfectly happy with the Carnival until Richard turned up to infect her with his paranoia, and she was damned if she was going to let him spoil her evening.
She searched the surrounding crowd for an excuse that would let her change the subject, and she smiled wryly as her gaze fell on Leonard Ash, talking animatedly with a bronze head on a pedestal. Of course; if everyone else was out and about, it stood to reason he would be too. There was a time when she and Ash and Erikson had been close friends, so close they were practically family. But things changed, as they do, whether people want them to or not. Erikson became Sheriff, she became Mayor, and Ash died. She remembered standing with Richard at the funeral, wearing a formal black dress that didn’t suit her, and throwing a handful of earth down into the grave. She remembered crying. But then he came back from the dead, and she didn’t know what to say to him. The man she’d known was dead, and this stranger with a familiar face had no right to Leonard’s place in her affections. So she and Ash and Erikson drifted apart, separated by their shared past, until they each had their own lives, and barely nodded to each other in the street.
Rhea shook her head. You’d think living in a place like Shadows Fall would inure you to things like ghosts and revenants, but it was different when it happened to you, or someone you knew. Had it really been three years? Where did the time go . . . Ash always used to be one of the Carnival’s main organizers, but he lost interest in a lot of things after he died. She felt a sudden need to talk to him again; him, Leonard Ash, whatever he was now. She squared her shoulders and gave the Sheriff her best business-like look.
‘You’re making a mountain out of a molehill, Richard. There’s nothing wrong here; just people enjoying themselves. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s someone I need to talk to.’
Erikson looked across at Ash, and then back at her. ‘Do you really think that’s a good idea, Rhea?’
‘Yes,’ Rhea said flatly.
The Sheriff looked at her for a long moment, until she grew uncomfortable under his gaze, and then he looked away. He sighed quietly. ‘Sometimes I wish he’d just go through the Door and get it over with. It’s not fair on you.’
He turned and walked away before she could say anything, and she was grateful to him for that, at least. She wouldn’t have known what to say anyway. Perhaps that was a sign of how far apart their lives had drifted. There was a time when they could have said anything to each other; anything at all. She looked back at where Ash had been standing, and was immediately relieved when she saw he was no longer there. She didn’t know what she would have said to him, either. She shook her head sourly, amused despite herself. She wasn’t usually at a loss for words. That was after all one of the reasons why she’d been elected Mayor; she’d talked her opponents into the ground.
She sighed and shrugged and looked around for something to distract her. This was supposed to be one of the few nights of the year when her office became redundant; when she could put her duties and obligations behind her, and just relax for a change. A conga line streamed past her, an endless line of flushed and laughing faces, and Rhea felt a sudden desperate desire to join the line, and laugh and sing and kick with the others. It seemed years since she’d done anything simple and spontaneous, just for the hell of it. But still she hesitated, held back by the dignity of her office, and by the time she’d brushed that aside, the conga line had moved on, leaving her behind, standing alone.
Someone cleared their throat politely behind her, and she spun round, startled at being caught off guard. Leonard Ash smiled at her, and the familiar sight caught at her heart for a moment before she clamped down hard on her memories, and showed him a polite, noncommittal smile.
‘Hello, Leonard. Are you enjoying the Carnival?’
‘It’s very colourful. How are you, Rhea? It’s been a while.’
‘Being Mayor is a full time job, especially in a town like this.’
‘You never came to see me,’ said Ash, his gaze direct and unwavering. ‘I waited a long time, but you never came.’
‘I went to your funeral,’ said Rhea, forcing the words out despite a tightening in her throat. ‘I said all my goodbyes then.’
‘But I’m still here; still me.’
‘No, you’re not. My friend died, and we buried him, and that’s an end to it!’
‘Not here, not in Shadows Fall, Rhea. Anything can happen here, if you want it badly enough.’
‘No,’ said Rhea. ‘Not everything. Or you wouldn’t be standing here with my dead friend’s face and voice, pretending to be him.’
‘Rhea; how can I convince you this is me? Really me?’
‘You can’t.’
They stood there for a long moment, neither wanting to be the first to look away. In the end, Rhea pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve, and pretended to blow her nose.
‘So,’ said Ash after a while. ‘How’s life treating you these days?’
‘Oh, the usual,’ said Rhea, concentrating on tucking the handkerchief back into her sleeve. ‘Good days and bad days. The job keeps me busy.’
‘Yes. I heard about the trouble with Lucas.’
They shared a grim smile, brought together for a moment by a problem that made their own seem almost trivial. Everyone in Shadows Fall knew about Lucas DeFrenz. When he’d been alive, he’d been nothing special. Ran the local drugstore and liked to second guess doctors’ diagnoses. Then he died in a stupid street accident, the kind that could have been avoided if everyone had been paying attention. But Lucas looked the wrong way as he stepped off the kerb, and the driver of the car was daydreaming, and Lucas died in the ambulance taking him to the hospital.
One week later, he came back from the dead. Nobody paid much attention, at first; this was Shadows Fall, after all. Dead men walking were rare, admittedly, but not unheard of. But it didn’t take the town long to discover that when Lucas returned from the dead, he’d brought something back with him. Lucas was possessed, by an angel called Michael. The angel was unthinkably powerful, able to work miracles, and could unnerve a whole room just by entering it. He called himself God’s Assassin, come to judge the unworthy. He hadn’t actually killed anyone yet, but everyone was ready for the other shoe to drop at any time.
‘Have you met Michael?’ asked Rhea. ‘I would have thought the two of you had a lot in common.’
‘Hardly,’ said Ash. ‘I’m just a revenant, a memory of a man made flesh and blood. I don’t know what Michael is. Or Lucas, come to that. I take it you’ve met him?’
‘Once. Scared the shit out of me. He walked into my office one morning, and all my potted plants died. The temperature dropped to freezing, and he glowed so brightly I could hardly look at him. But I didn’t have to see him; his presence filled the whole office. A deaf and blind man would have known who it was. While he was there I literally couldn’t think of anyone or anything but him. He announced he’d come to sit in judgement on the town, told me to go to church more often, smiled, and then left. I always thought angels were supposed to be warm, kindly beings with wings and a halo and a harp fixation. No one ever warned me about things like Michael.’
‘You should read your Bible more often,’ said Ash. ‘The angel Michael is supposed to have slain a dragon with a spear and wrestled with Satan himself. Hard to imagine someone like that lolling about on a cloud in a long nightie. He’s here, you know; at the Carnival.’
‘Oh great,’ said Rhea. ‘Just what I needed. What was he doing?’
‘Nothing too worrying. Just walking about, glaring at people. Like he was looking for someone. Everyone’s been giving him plenty of room.’
‘I’m not surprised.’ Rhea hesitated for a moment, and Ash winced inwardly. He recognized the look on her face. It was the one people always wore when they were about to ask the Question. The Question everyone asked him sooner or later.
‘Leonard; what’s it like, being dead?’
‘Restful,’ said Ash simply. ‘It takes a lot of pressure off, knowing nothing’s expected of you any more. Of course, sometimes it’s frustrating, knowing that my life is over in every way that matters, but I’m still here. There’s not much for me to do. I don’t eat or drink, unless I choose to, and mostly I don’t see the point. Hunger and thirst are things of the past for me, like sleep. I miss sleep, being able to escape from everything for a time. I miss dreaming too. Mostly, I miss having a sense of purpose. Nothing really matters to me, any more. I can’t be hurt, but I don’t grow old. I can never be more than what I am now. I’m just marking time, waiting to be released, so I can go through the Forever Door, to whatever lies beyond.’
‘How long do you think it’ll be before your parents release you?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Ash. ‘It’s my mother, mainly. She needed me so badly she brought me back, and it’s her will, her love, her denial that holds me here.’ He paused, and held Rhea’s eyes with his own. ‘It really is me, in every way that matters. I remember everything that happened while I was alive. I remember you, and Richard. The things we did, or were going to do.’
‘But that’s the point, isn’t it?’ said Rhea. ‘You’re not going to do those things any more. You can’t. You went away and left me, Leonard. And you couldn’t even do that right.’
Her mouth twisted as she fought back sudden tears. Leonard put out his arms as though to hold her, and then lowered them again as she looked at him angrily. She sniffed a few times, and then was back in control, as though it had never happened.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said brusquely. ‘This can’t be any easier for you than it is for me, whoever you are.’
‘It’s something you learn to live with,’ said Ash, solemnly.
Rhea smiled reluctantly.
‘I walked right into that one, didn’t I?’
They smiled at each other. It was a moment that could go either way, and they both knew it. Rhea opened her mouth to say something polite, that would let her walk away, and was honestly surprised when she found herself asking something else entirely.
‘Does it frighten you, Leonard, knowing you’ll die again, permanently, when you finally go through the Door?’
‘Damn right it scares me,’ said Ash. ‘I’m dead, not crazy. But it’s not like I have a choice in the matter. I can’t go on like this, and wouldn’t if I could. I don’t belong here. You know, it never ceases to amaze me that in a town as crammed full of strange and wonderful people as this, I can’t find anyone who can give me any clear idea of what lies beyond the Forever Door. There are lots of theories, and any number of religions claiming to know, but there’s no real evidence. The only person who might be able to tell me is Lucas, and so far I haven’t been able to work up the courage to ask him. Maybe because I’m frightened of what his answer might be. I’d hate to think Heaven was full of people like Michael.
‘But this is worse. This . . . limbo. I’m getting fuzzy at the edges. I’ve started forgetting things; memories, personality traits, all the little things that made up who and what I was. If I don’t go through the Door soon, I have a horrible suspicion that I’ll just fade away, bit by bit, day by day, till there’s nothing left at all. That really does frighten me.’
He stopped abruptly, and smiled briefly at Rhea. ‘Sorry. I’m rambling. I’ve waited for so long for a chance to talk to you. There are so many things I want to say . . .’
He stopped again as he saw her face change. The warmth was gone from her smile, and shutters had come down in her eyes, until there was nothing left before him but the polite and friendly mask she used for strangers.
‘You still don’t believe I’m me,’ said Ash. ‘Or maybe you can’t afford to believe it. Because then you’d have to open up your heart again, and risk being hurt when I have to leave.’
‘I really don’t think about it that much,’ said Rhea. ‘Leonard Ash was a part of my past, and that’s where he belongs, with my other memories. Now, if you’ll excuse me . . .’
Ash nodded tiredly, and started to offer her his hand to shake before realizing he was still holding his cup of mulled wine. He offered it to her.
‘Would you like this? I haven’t drunk any; I couldn’t taste it anyway. I bought it for the bouquet. I always enjoyed the smell of spiced wine.’
Rhea started to say no, and then took the cup anyway. She was thirsty. She sipped cautiously, and then swallowed hard as the wine seared her tongue. A pleasant warmth filled her head, and seeped slowly down her chest. She smiled at Ash, and then turned away from him. The spiced wine was bringing tears to her eyes. Ash took a step after her, and then they both stopped as a running figure burst out of the crowd and headed right for them.
Suzanne Dubois skidded to a halt before Rhea, and then had to stand and breathe heavily for a moment before she could talk. She looked dishevelled and anxious, but then, she often did. Suzanne was a tall, leggy blonde in her mid-thirties who dressed in accumulated rags and tatters that looked as though they’d come from the Salvation Army’s reject box. She was pretty in a Nordic sort of way, all washed-out eyes and prominent cheekbones. She wore her long hair in braids that looked as though she’d run out of patience half-way through. She read tarot cards for a living, and was an unofficial mother figure for anyone who needed one. She looked . . . A sudden tension pulled at Rhea’s stomach as she realized Suzanne didn’t just look frightened. She looked terrified. Rhea quickly handed her cup to Ash, took Suzanne by the arms and smiled at her reassuringly.
‘Take it easy, dear. Get your breath back; I’m not going anywhere. Now what’s happened?’
‘The Sheriff sent me to find you,’ Suzanne said finally, forcing the words out. ‘You’re to come at once. I can’t explain here. Too many ears.’
Rhea and Ash looked about them automatically, but no one in the surrounding crowds seemed to be paying them any undue attention.
‘All right,’ said Rhea soothingly. ‘I’ll come. Lead the way.’
‘I’ll come too,’ said Ash.
‘This sounds like official business,’ said Rhea. ‘There’s no need for you to be involved.’
‘Stop arguing and come with me!’ Suzanne snapped, and then plunged back into the crowd, without looking back to see whether they were following. Rhea glared at Ash exasperatedly, and hurried after Suzanne. Ash threw the cup of wine aside, and followed Rhea. They caught up with Suzanne easily enough. She was too winded to keep up her pace for long. They moved in on either side of her, trying to reassure her with their presence. She smiled briefly at them both, to show she appreciated the intention, but the fear never left her face for a moment.
‘Just how bad is this?’ said Rhea, beginning to feel worried herself.
‘Bad,’ said Suzanne. ‘Very bad.’
She led them down the side of the hill, past the brightly-coloured tents and awnings, and people gave way automatically before them, reacting as much to Suzanne’s urgency as Rhea’s authority. A few people called after them curiously, but Rhea just flashed them a quick smile and kept going. It was only a short distance to Suzanne’s home, standing alone surrounded by weeds at the edge of the river Tawn. It wasn’t much of a place, just a one-room wooden shack held together with tarpaper and rusty nails. Ash shook his head slowly as they approached the shack. Suzanne’s friends had been trying to get her to move somewhere more civilized for years, but in this as in so many other things, Suzanne was quietly stubborn, and would not be moved.
There was only one door and one window. A light burned behind the drawn-together curtains, and the door was closed. Suzanne knocked twice, waited a moment, and then knocked again. Rhea and Ash exchanged a glance behind her back. There was the sound of a key turning in the lock, and bolts being pulled back, and then the door swung open, spilling bright lamplight out into the evening gloom. Suzanne darted into the shack, and Rhea and Ash followed her in. They both jumped as someone shut the door behind them.
They spun round to see Sheriff Erikson lock the door and slam home the bolts again. He nodded to Suzanne and Rhea, raised an eyebrow at Ash, and then gestured at the body lying on the floor, the upper half covered by a blanket. Blood had soaked through the blanket by the head, and there was more on the floor. Suzanne dropped into a chair, clearly exhausted, while Rhea knelt by the body. Ash took the opportunity to look around him. It had been some time since he’d visited Suzanne’s home, but nothing had changed. The place was still a mess. There was an unmade bed, pushed up against the far wall, with a battered dresser next to it. The broad mirror on the dresser was covered with lipsticked messages from Suzanne to herself, and a motley collection of curling photographs. There were three chairs of varying designs and comfort, mostly buried under old clothes and general junk. Empty fast-food cartons lay scattered across the bare wooden floor. The walls were covered with fading posters from films and shows that never were. The place was a tip, but it was a homely tip, and most of the many people who came to visit Suzanne found it cosy. Ash had always felt at home there.
And then, finally, because he couldn’t put it off any longer, Ash looked at the corpse. Rhea had pulled back the blanket to reveal the dead man’s head. The skull was crushed and misshapen from what looked like repeated blows. There was blood and brains in the hair, and one side of the face was a bloody ruin, but even so Ash recognized who it was immediately. It was Lucas DeFrenz, the man who claimed to be possessed by the angel Michael.
Suzanne rocked back and forth in her chair, hugging herself tightly to keep from shaking, and carefully not looking at the body. Rhea looked up at the Sheriff, her face professionally calm and unmoved.
‘Do we have any witnesses as to when and how he died?’
‘No,’ said Erikson quietly. ‘Suzanne came home half an hour ago and found him lying there. He hasn’t been dead long. The blood is still tacky in places. Whatever happened here, it wasn’t a robbery gone wrong. He still has his wallet. The money and credit cards haven’t been touched.’
‘Are you saying this was murder?’ Rhea stood up and stared at Erikson, actually shocked. ‘There hasn’t been a murder in Shadows Fall for centuries. That’s part of the nature of the town. Such things can’t happen here!’
‘Looks a pretty painful way to commit suicide,’ commented Ash. Rhea glared at him.
‘I’ve sent for Doctor Mirren,’ said the Sheriff quickly. ‘He should be here soon. He won’t be able to do much, though. We don’t have the facilities for a proper forensic examination. We’d have to go outside the town for that.’
‘No,’ said Rhea immediately. ‘If word of this were to get out, the whole town would soon be overrun with outsiders. We can’t allow that. There are other ways of getting information from the dead. We’ll use those.’
There was a long pause, as they all stared at the dead man.
‘Who the hell would be crazy enough to kill an angel?’ said Ash.
‘Good point,’ said Erikson. ‘Michael always scared the shit out of me.’
‘So our killer couldn’t have been just an ordinary man,’ said Rhea. ‘Whoever did this had to be pretty damned powerful in his own right, just to get near Lucas. Someone so powerful that even God’s Assassin couldn’t stop him . . .’
Suzanne shivered suddenly. ‘And right now, that killer is walking around loose in Shadows Fall, probably already looking for his next victim. We have to warn people.’
‘If word gets out too soon there’ll be a panic,’ said Erikson.
‘The Sheriff’s right,’ said Rhea. ‘We have to keep a lid on this for as long as we can. If the town’s nature has changed so fundamentally, we have to find out what caused the change. And what else is now possible in Shadows Fall.’
‘Lucas came back from the dead once,’ said Suzanne quietly. ‘Perhaps he’ll do it again.’
‘That’s a possibility,’ said Erikson. ‘But I don’t think we should count on it. There are records of quite a few revenants in the town’s history, but I never heard of anyone coming back twice. Unless you know better, Leonard?’
Ash shook his head. ‘Just because I’m dead, that doesn’t make me an expert. Your guess is as good as mine. But there’s one question no one’s asked yet. Why was Lucas killed here?’
‘Someone must have told him to come here,’ said the Sheriff slowly. ‘Someone who knew Suzanne would be out.’
‘Which would imply it was someone Lucas trusted,’ said Rhea.
‘You mean he knew his killer?’ said Ash.
Rhea shrugged. Erikson looked thoughtfully at Suzanne. ‘Was Lucas a close friend of yours, Suzanne?’
‘Not really. I knew him fairly well before he died, but when he came back with Michael he was changed, cold. I didn’t even like being in the same room as him. No one did.’
‘Or to put it another way,’ said Ash, ‘there’s no shortage of suspects. Michael said he’d come to judge the unworthy, and there’s never been any shortage of those in Shadows Fall. Presumably one of them beat Michael to the punch.’