Osman led us into the front living room. The room was an old-fashioned parlor type with new wallpaper and a large fireplace opposite the door. He took a seat in a chair angled towards the door that sat near the cold hearth. There was an end table beside him with an ashtray overloaded with cigarettes. He gestured to a couch to my left and his right.
"Have a seat," he offered.
I sat down and my eyes flitted to the doorway where Cronus took up residence against the frame. He still hadn't blinked.
"So what do you want to know first?" he asked me.
"First, I want to know who the hell you guys are," I told them.
"A pair of concerned citizens who rescue damsels in distress," Osman teased.
"Cut the bull crap and fork over the info," I snapped.
Osman shrugged and pulled the cigarette out of his mouth. He dangled it over the arm of his chair and studied the small red warmth at its end. He didn't look at me when he spoke.
"I'm-well, let's just say I have an uncanny ability to perceive the paranormal through my sense of sight, hearing and smell," he revealed. "That's left me in the perfect position to be a detective of the paranormal and help out those who aren't as 'lucky' as I am." The word 'lucky' was spoken with a heavy dose of bitterness.
"So you two are like phantom hunters?" I guessed.
"Among others," Osman confirmed.
I leaned forward and looked him over. "You said something about this being personal. Why?"
A small smile slipped onto his lips and he closed his eyes. "I hoped you'd forgotten about that minor detail."
"So it's true?" I questioned him.
Osman opened his eyes and crunched the half-used cigarette into the full ashtray. He lit another cigarette and placed it into the corner of his mouth.
"You know, those aren't exactly healthy for you," I informed him.
His trademark crooked grin slipped onto his lips. "Believe me, if anything's going to kill me it isn't going to be a cigarette or two."
"You mean like that guy in the white suit?" I guessed.
"Him, or any of the other Phantom Whisperers," he agreed.
"So where do I fit into all of this?" I asked him.
Osman leaned back in his chair and took a long drag on his cigarette. He let out a puff of smoke and studied me. "That's an interesting question. Where do you fit into all of this?"
"I'm the one asking the questions," I reminded him.
"To be honest I'm not entirely sure, but I'd like to do a test." He rummaged in his overcoat and pulled out a small wooden box with a face on the curved lid. I noticed Cronus pushed off from the doorway and stood at attention. Osman set the box on the table beside him and grasped the lid in one hand. "Care to try out my theory?" he asked me.
I sat straight and glared at him. "That depends on what-" Osman opened the lid and a rush of darkness flew out from its depths.
The shadow arched high into the air and plummeted back down to earth straight at me. I turned my face away and raised my arms over my head, but the shadow flew straight through my arms and hit me in the temple. A freezing cold pierced my brain like a bad ice cream brain freeze. I clenched my teeth together and grabbed my temple.
"What the hell was that thing?" I snapped at Osman.
"It's a small Shadow that has attached to your mind," Osman explained to me. "It will prove my theory right, or kill you."
I dropped my hand and whipped my head to him. "What?"
"Kill you. Shadows burrow deep into a person's personality, their soul, so-to-speak, and consume everything," he told me.
"How the hell am I supposed to stop it?" I yelled at him.
He shrugged. "You figure it out."
I would've jumped him and strangled him right then and there, but I had a creature of darkness burrowing into my soul. I stumbled to my feet and clutched my freezing head between my hands. The cold changed to a dull pain that had aspirations for something much stronger as the ache changed to a roaring fire.
I shut my eyes and clenched my teeth together. All I could think about was exorcising that Shadow from my mind.
I barely noticed when a bright light penetrated my eyelids. My eyes flew open and I saw the glow came from either side of my head. The pain faded and I pulled my hands away to see they were the source of the glow. My hands were illuminated like the lighting section in a national hardware store. Two snake-like shadows writhed in my palms.
Osman stood and slipped his hands underneath mine so mine were held in his palms. He furrowed his brow and bit the end of his cigarette.
"Clap," he ordered me.
I blinked at him. "What?"
"Trust me. Just clap," he repeated.
I leaned away from my own hands and clapped my hands. The ensuing explosion of light flooded the room for one brilliant moment, and then nothing. No more light in my hands, no more headache, no more writhing shadows. I looked at my palms with wide, blinking eyes.
Osman turned away from me and settled himself back in his chair. He shoved the bit cigarette into the ashtray and pulled out another one.
"Very interesting," he commented.
I looked away from my hands and at him. "What the hell just happened?" I whispered.
"You destroyed my Shadow," he told me.
"It was going to kill me!" I defended myself. I let that thought sink in for just a moment before anger swept aside my uncertainty, and I glared at Osman. "You were going to kill me!"
That crooked smile returned and he shook his head. "You weren't going to die."
"But you said it was going to kill me!" I reminded him.
He shrugged. "I lied."
I threw myself across the short distance between us and reached for his eyes to claw them out. Osman grabbed my wrists and kept my hands a safe six inches from his face. He chuckled.
"You're even prettier when you're angry," he complimented me.
"And you're going to be a dead man when I get a hold of you!" I growled.
The smile slipped off his lips and his eyebrows crashed down. "You'll have to get in line, so sit down." He shoved me backwards and I fell back into onto the couch. "Besides, you should be thanking me. I've solved some of your mystery."
"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" I snapped at him.
"It means I know why the Phantom Whisperer chose to sic his pet on you," he told me. "You're a Mystic."
I blinked at him. "I'm a what?"
"A Mystic," he repeated. "One who, through practice or natural ability, is capable of destroying the lower level creatures of the paranormal world."
"A Mystic?" I repeated.
"Yes," he confirmed.
"Isn't that some sort of class in an MMO?" I asked him.
"Yes, but it has practical applications outside the world of make-believe," he assured me.
I leaned back against the rear of the couch and raised an eyebrow. "Like what? Being able to heal people when they call me over?"
"There are minor healing powers, but your greatest asset is your ability to destroy weak paranormal creatures with your touch, and stronger ones with a talisman," he explained.
I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees and looked him in the eye. "You're serious about this, aren't you?"
"Very serious," he assured me.
"So what do I do now?" I questioned him. "Change my name and move to another city?"
A teasing smile played across his lips. "Bertha Summers would suit you," he suggested.
I frowned and stood. "And you and your creepy friend don't suit me. I'd rather face a hundred phantoms then-"
"And you might, though probably not at the same time," he warned me. The serious tone and look had returned to him, and he leaned forward with his cigarette clenched tightly at the corner of his mouth. "Besides, I can't let you leave here. You know where I live."
"Then why did you bring me here if you didn't want me to know that?" I snapped at him.
"It's the sa
fest place I know, and I didn't think you'd be this difficult after I saved your life," he replied.
I snorted and waved my hand at the men and the house. "Saved my life so I could be what? Trapped in this fun house with you two creepy clowns and a couple of black phantoms and white-suited guys outside ready to do God-knows-what with me?"
He stood and put his hands in the pockets of his overcoat. His keen eyes looked me over and he shrugged. "Or you could stop being so difficult and help us to find out why the Whisperer told his little pet to try to kidnap you rather than just outright kill you, especially as you're a threat to his little Whisperings."
I folded my arms across my chest and pursed my lips. "How about you just get him off my back?" I suggested. "You've got those magic things. Make that Whisperer crumble or blow away or something."
He closed his eyes and shook his head. "I can't do that."
"Why not?" I snapped at him.
He nodded past me at Cronus. "If he says we can't destroy him then I'm not going to argue."
I threw up my hands. "Then the only choice I have is 'stay here for the rest of my life?'"
Osman's crooked grin returned. "I have a very large bed that fits two very comfortably."
"And I'm sure you say that to all the girls you kidnap," I quipped.
"I must admit you're the first, and I hope the last," he replied.
"I'm flattered," I retorted. I sighed and leaned back against the couch. "Fine. I'll stay here until, or if, this phantom wind ever blows over. But don't expect me to like it."
Osman stood and gestured to the doorway. "Then let me show you to your bedroom."
I stood and glared at me. "It better be just my bedroom."
"If that's what you want," he answered.
"Definitely."
CHAPTER 10