But neither could he allow Erik’s shade to continue inhabiting the policeman’s body. Erik had proven himself unreliable; unable to avoid the sins of his past life.
Bedrik stood up. His knees popped, loud in the silence. He winked at Winters.
“Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Erik whimpered through Winters’ mouth.
Bedrik went into the kitchen and searched through the cupboards until he found a canister of salt. Then he returned to the living room and poured the salt out in a circle around the policeman’s body.
“Erik Riley,” he said, “I have bound you to me, and commanded you to do my bidding. It is through my power that your shade walks the earth again. Now, I command you to return to nothingness. I cast you out of this form, cast you out of this existence, and cast you out of this plane. Get thee behind me and do not return. Your shade shall fade with the dawn.”
The circle of salt began to glow.
Chief Winters jerked upright, muscles still twitching from the overdose. Erik Riley’s shade screamed inside him. Winters stumbled to his feet inside the circle. The needle fell from his arm. His eyes rolled into the back of his head. His heart, already weakened by his lifestyle and the excesses of the shade inhabiting him, ruptured. At the same time, his consciousness briefly returned. His eyes widened in recognition.
“Mr. Bedrik? What the hell?”
Then he toppled over, dead.
Bedrik didn’t move. It wasn’t over.
Erik Riley’s spirit screamed again. Darkness oozed from the Chief’s pores, mouth, and nostrils, and dripped from the corners of his eyes. It reformed briefly into a human shape. Then Bedrik stepped forward, took a deep breath, and blew. The shade, torn completely away from Winters’ body, dissipated. Bedrik continued blowing. Inside the living room, the wind howled. The salt drifted into the air, swirling like snow. The scattered globules of shadow attached themselves to the minute grains and drifted through the open door, vanishing into the night.
Finally, Bedrik relaxed. The winds died down. Silence returned. In the hallway, the clock struck twelve.
The next morning, when he didn’t show up for work and calls to his home went unanswered, Chief Winters would be found dead of a massive coronary. There would be no signs of a disturbance, nothing that would lead investigators to assume foul play had been involved. No trace of Michael Bedrik’s presence would be found. Not even a grain of salt.
“Well,” Bedrik muttered, stepping outside. “I suppose I’ll need more policemen.”
He’d consolidated his power, begun exerting his influence over the town, and taken care of the Erik Riley problem. Now it was time to learn the identity of the person who’d discovered Martin’s body and find out how much they knew.
SIX
School was finished for the day, but Danny remained behind, reading a book in the school library; Magick in Theory and Practice by Aleister Crowley. Danny had bought it at the used bookstore on Harbor Street. Gustav had scoffed, but then insisted that he read it anyway. “Crowley was insane,” the Russian said, “but is important to gain knowledge even from the crazy, yes?”
“Danny?”
Mr. Bedrik’s voice surprised him. Danny jumped. He’d been so engrossed in the book that he hadn’t realized the man was there.
“Yeah?”
Mr. Bedrik was a hard-ass. Danny didn’t like him; had often skipped his class the year before. But now, the teacher was looking at him with a different expression. Not contempt or disapproval, but one of impressed surprise.
“I didn’t expect to see you here.” The teacher sat down next to him in one of the empty chairs. “After school detention?”
“No,” Danny mumbled. “Just reading.”
“Crowley.” Mr. Bedrik nodded toward the bookshelves. “The Master Therion. I can’t imagine you found that in here.”
Danny shook his head, and then closed the book.
“I have to admit, Danny. I’m impressed. That’s awfully advanced reading for a boy your age, especially given your academic past. Is this some sort of heavy metal thing? What’s that new band—Slayer, I believe? Do they use him in one of their songs?”
Danny shrugged. “No. I just thought it was interesting.”
“Indeed?” Bedrik smiled. “And you like it?”
“So far.”
“You should try Aceldama, his first published collection of poems. That was always my personal favorite.”
Danny’s eyes widened. “You read this stuff?”
Mr. Bedrik smiled. “Don’t sound so surprised, Danny. A thirst for knowledge is a good thing. Crowley himself said that ‘the solution is to develop consciousness so that we no longer think as a child or a school boy does’ and are ‘capable of comprehending incommensurables as pertinent to our own formula.’ So yes, I’ve read him. I read everything, all subjects. I have a wide variety of interests.”
“You…do you…practice it?”
“No. I just like to stay informed. You’re never too old to learn more.”
“You sound like Gustav,” Danny said. A second later, he realized the slip and shut his mouth.
“You know Gustav?” Mr. Bedrik sounded surprised. “The old bum who hangs around downtown?”
“Yeah,” Danny said. “A little. I mean, I’ve seen him around town. We’re not friends or anything. You know him, too?”
“Oh yes. I am aware of him. And you should be careful around him. He’s no good.”
“He’s okay,” Danny said. “I mean, he’s not a pervert or anything. His house is a dump, but he’s nice. No job, but he’s smart.”
“How would you know? Didn’t you just say that you’re not friendly with him?”
“Well…” Danny paused, trying to think of a way to cover. For some reason, Mr. Bedrik’s interest in Gustav made him uncomfortable. “We talk about books sometimes. That’s all.”
“Do you discuss Crowley with him?”
“N-no.”
“Danny, lying does not become you.”
“Yes. Sometimes I talk to him. Happy? But so what?”
“No reason.” Mr. Bedrik stood up. “I have things to attend to. You really should go home, Danny. School is done for the day. It’s nice outside. Do you really want to spend the evening reading books?”
“I thought Crowley said knowledge was a good thing?”
Mr. Bedrik’s smile faded. “He also said ‘A little knowledge is a dangerous thing; more than a little is certain disaster.’ Keep that in mind in regards to your friend Gustav.”
“You think he’s dangerous?”
“I think you know more about him than you’re pretending. And yet, I think you don’t know enough.”
“What do you mean? Is he like a Russian spy or something?”
Mr. Bedrik laughed. “Hardly. But there are a lot of things about him that simply aren’t as they seem. His name, for instance.”
“What’s wrong with his name?”
“It’s not Gustav.”
He walked out of the library. The doors swung shut behind him. Danny frowned. The teacher had acted…different. No hollering. No angry incriminations. No disdain. It was like he’d actually been interested in what Danny was doing.
Weird. His comments about Gustav were even weirder—but understandable. After all, most of the adults in Brackard’s Point thought the old man was a simple vagrant, living in that ramshackle house. They didn’t know his secret. Still, Mr. Bedrik had seemed to know something.