It was nearing midday when Ben pulled back into his driveway. The sun sat high in the sky, faint with winter, and should have thrown almost no shadows. But there were shadows aplenty. They clung to every nook and cranny, filling corners and oozing from gaps and writhing beneath the car. A bird landed by a flower and, as Ben watched, he saw the flower fade, grow dull and disintegrate into the bird's shadow. The bird fluffed itself and gave a shake as if flicking off water.
And now he realised, sickened, that his own shadow was growing stronger. It slithered across the ground behind him, close now in the midday sun, an inky, black puddle. He felt it there, like a weight, pulling at his heels.
Get off me, he thought. You parasite, get the fuck off me.
Damned shadow, he'd be better off without it.
He went to slide his front door key into the lock and remembered he hadn't bothered to lock it. If nothing else, Shade made a handy house-sitter for him.
"Honey? I'm home," called Ben as he walked into the darkened hallway.
Lower creatures, more finely tuned than humans to their own self-preservation, might have sensed danger and fled. Or they might not have entered the house at all. Animals were canny about that sort of thing. But not people.
So Ben blundered straight into Shade's grasp.
With the calm assurance only a person in their own house can manage, Ben strolled down the hall, not noticing the faint shape standing beyond the door of the front bedroom. As Ben passed the door, the shadowy figure moved, gliding across the bedroom and into the hall behind Ben, silent as a stalking panther.
He leapt, and landed squarely on Ben's back.
Ben cried out as he was thrown forward by Shade's weight and he struggled to fight him off.
"What the hell are you doing?" yelled Ben as Shade wrestled his arms behind his back. "Let go of me, you crazy fuck!"
Without a word, Shade pulled one of Ben's belts out of his pocket and tied Ben's hands securely. He hauled him to his feet and shoved him in the back, forcing him through to the back of the house.
"I knew I shouldn't have trusted you," cursed Ben, trying to disguise the fear he felt. "You're a fucking psycho."
Shade's continued silence only unnerved him more.
"Damn it, say something," Ben spat.
"Outside," grunted Shade, shoving him into the back door.
Slowly, reluctantly, Ben pushed open the back door and walked down the three steps into the yard. And suddenly, as the glare of the almost midday sun hit his eyes, Ben realised what Shade was up to and he quailed.
"Oh no," he moaned. "No, you crazy fuck. NO. You couldn't be..." but he could. That was the crux of it. He could and he would. The laundry was to his right, off the main house, and behind it, a mango tree. It seemed to Ben that every house in Casino had either a mango tree or a grape vine in their back yard. Directly in front of them stood the clothesline, strange, metallic tree, denuded of its foliage, and it was here that Shade led him.
And still Shade didn't speak, even as he tied Ben to the pole, trying, even, to avoid eye contact. It was almost as if he felt guilty and didn't want to look Ben in the eye.
He turned and grabbed a paling - Ben could see the gap where he'd torn it from the fence - and came towards him like some half-arsed modern day vampire hunter. The fence paling hung from one hand and a sledge hammer hung from the other. Ben wondered deliriously where he'd gotten the hammer.
"You're kidding, aren't you?" said Ben. "Come on, you don't want to do this. There's no need."
"There's more need than you know," said Shade.
Ben felt something stir within him as Shade placed the stake square in the middle of Ben's shadow. A dark, primeval force thrashed in anger.
"Don't touch my fucking shadow!" he screamed. "You touch that and I'll fucking kill you! I'll get free of this and I'll shade you into the middle of last century. I'll shade you right back into the bright depths that spawned you—"
Shade merely glanced at Ben, ignoring this diatribe, then, with a final check to make sure the sun was directly overhead, Shade brought the hammer down with all his might and the screams of Ben's shadow ripped the air. As Shade raised the hammer for another blow Ben glanced down and saw that his shadow had been impaled, even now, it had sunken in about the paling.
Shade brought the hammer down again and this time Ben felt it. A horrendous, ripping, tearing pain as if his whole insides were being sucked out of him. It felt like thousands of fish hooks had been pierced through the inside of his skull and were now being dragged right down through his body. His own screams joined those of the shadow as Ben felt something tugging at the back of his eyeballs.
Shade brought the hammer down one final time and Ben felt something give. He howled like a dingo as his whole body snapped.
Ben went limp against the clothesline. Unconscious.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE