“Finn, Tom, and Albert and the Shadow Man.”

M.J. Downing

            Sometimes, when Halloween comes and  the barriers between the worlds grows thinner, we get caught up in the changes, in the colder air, the falling leaves, in how those around us just aren’t like they used to be.  It’s hard to see the changes in ourselves, too. Ghosts and monsters become just fun, kid stuff, though inside, we miss the magic of glimpses into the other worlds, those things we tell ourselves are only imaginary. Maybe what happens during these days when the world loses its summer green and prepares to undergo the death of winter, is that we get to see that we are ghosts who have yet to die, that monsters do live among us, and that this has never been kid stuff.

            At sixteen, Finn McCoy stood one inch taller that his father, James, though a good fifty pounds lighter. Finn would gain weight, too, in time, for he was growing.  He had found football, his friend Albert Miller having coaxed Finn to try out, and it brought on dramatic changes.  Tom Doughty, Finn’s other close friend, found these changes unwelcome. He did not care for Finn’s and Albert’s new growth, especially with a new Halloween just a week away.

            “It’s like he isn’t Finn anymore. He’s changing too fast,” Tom explained to Albert as they waited for Finn after practice in late October.

            “You just jealous because he’s bigger than you now?” Albert asked.  He, too, was filling out his large, awkward frame with new muscle, too.  Albert was as heavy, though not as strong, as Professor James McCoy, who was Albert’s idol of strength and cool. Moreover, Albert was second string offensive lineman, though Finn had already become a starting linebacker.

            “Size has nothing to do with it,” Tom replied.  “I’m glad for his sake that he’s taller than Stacey now.  For some reason, he never liked looking up at his girlfriend, so I know he feels better about walking with her, and she likes his muscles.  That’s all good. I’m happy about that.  But—”

            “You don’t feel like you could take him now, Mr. Kung Fu?” Albert teased, though he knew better.  Tom was of average height, short of six feet, unlike his two buddies, but training in Chinese martial arts had hardened his body and kept him trim.   Albert, with his new size, had tried once or twice to push Tom around and lost swiftly in each encounter, winding up face down with one arm twisted up behind him in an unnatural position.  Tom was close to lethal, but Albert’s perpetual uncertainty just would push him to tease.

            “I mean,” Tom replied, not taking up the Kung Fu issue, “that Finn seems to have lost—or given up–his abilities.  When was the last time you heard him say anything about ghosts or fairies?”

            “Did he have those abilities, or was that all just…in his–and our–imaginations?”

            “Oh, like we’re all grown up now? Like it wasn’t just last year that Finn had encounter with the Green Man?” Tom shot back.  “You’ve read the stuff that we found on the Green Man, a very powerful force in the realm of Faerie. Just because you both went out for football and put on some size, the things we experienced with Finn are suddenly just stories we told ourselves?”

            “Well, did those things happen?  Did we just want them to happen?”

            “What, like when Finn was kidnapped by fairies—or when we ALL  fought the vampire?” Tom asked. “We were there.  We saw it all. You were–.”  Albert frowned and shrugged his heavy shoulders.

            “Maybe,” Albert replied in a quiet voice. Tom looked hard at Albert, recognizing that his large friend remembered the vampire incident with shame, because he had nearly become its victim. Since then, especially at the adventure of the Green Man, Albert and Finn grew distant, until football drew them together.  So, Tom studied Albert but did not challenge him. His training taught him to avoid pointing out another’s weakness or wrongdoing. People have to deal with their own issues, Tom knew, though he worried that his friend Finn had thrust aside a precious gift: seeing what was really there, in favor of simply getting bigger.

            “Maybe I just miss the way Finn used to be, his enthusiasm, the way he looked at things,” Tom said.  He knew that Finn was still fearless.  Finn knew nothing about backing down from a challenge, and it showed when he played.  Coaches loved his competitiveness, his growing physical skills. Finn was an exception as a freshman starter, first at safety and then linebacker, leading the team in solo tackles. But ghosts and fairies were things he just didn’t talk about anymore.

            Tom, who was not ready to give up those marvelous things, saw greater differences in Finn: he argued more with his father, as well as with Stacey. Much of the time, Finn laughed and joked like he always did, but something about it was more physical,  harder than it had been.  They had always wrestled, as boys will, but now, pushing people around, even a little, had become Finn’s new way of relating.  He liked shoving people, catching them off balance, which didn’t work with Tom. His martial art training taught him to flow like water, easy, balanced. Finn’s new strength made him more like a crashing wave. Tom knew how to avoid the wave-like power, using a gentle turn to let it go by, no matter how many times Finn tried to catch him unaware with a grasp or a shove. Finn’s new habits did not sit well with Tom.

Tom had retained his ability to talk with his father and explained his problem to him one evening after they had trained. Sgt Doughty had observed, “I’m sorry that Finn seem to have changed.  I’ve always thought a lot of him.  I will say, though, that I’ve seen many a curious and intelligent boy become a thick-headed goofball when he gets some size. I wish I could say that I had not, but that would be a lie.  It does happen to some of us.” That thought horrified Tom.  Even Albert, big as he was, retained his boyish sense of humor and some doubt about himself. For Tom, Finn was getting too full of himself, as though his on-field personality had become his new identity. He worried that Finn was on his way to being just another jock, when he had always been a great deal more special, gifted, in Tom’s eyes.

            The gym door behind them burst open and Finn rushed out, his hair still wet from the shower. “Hey losers,” he exclaimed. “Bertie, where’d you go? You weren’t in the weight room today,” he said, dropping an arm around Tom’s neck as though to put him in a head lock. Tom ducked out of it but avoided responding with a move of his own. Finn turned to Albert and hit him with a shoulder block that almost took the bigger boy down. After his rough greeting, Finn was moving on. Tom trailed behind, frowning.

            “Coach Austin had me doing footwork drills, jumpin’ rope and crap like that,” Albert said, righting himself and falling in beside Finn. Albert’s clumsiness was his weakness.  He also hated that his teammates called him “Bertie,” for it sounded like “Birdie.” Team nicknames, too, tended to stick. When they had first tried out for the team, the older players called Finn, “Fish.”  That had changed to “Shark” when he led the team in solo tackles.

            “Yeah, you gotta learn to move your feet faster, bud, if you wanna start center,” Finn said, without a nod to Albert’s desire to overcome this weakness. Even Tom had worked with his larger friend on footwork, how to stay balanced and shift his weight. Finn urged them to hurry. “C’mon.  I gotta eat!”

            St. Francis, their high school, wasn’t far from their neighborhood, and they walked to and from it every day.  Sometimes, like on away game days, Tom walked home by himself, which might explain some of his dissatisfaction with Finn’s changes.  Before football, they would cut through the trees of the old park where they used to play.  In the presence of grass, trees, and thickets, Finn always found wonders in things that Tom or Albert could not see.  He would stop and stare at spots where he saw wandering shades or traces of the fay, hoping to share his gift with Tom and Albert. 

            Now, though, Finn was all about getting bigger.  He went fast through the park, heading for home, to protein shakes and peanut butter or whatever leftovers he might find. A new hunger replaced his ability to see wonders.  Tom had sometimes seen flashes of the things Finn would point out, though Albert claimed he never did.  However, the need to feed his muscles replaced Finn’s attention to a greater reality.  Now, they went fast, past the spots where Finn once tried to show them where ghosts wandered or fairies hid, the dark culvert where the creek ran under the main road on the park’s east boundary, the foundations of an ancient house that once stood on the property.

Tom missed those times, for they gave him a sense that he was part of history, that there were stories everywhere about people who had been there, like the ghosts that he figured were of some of the people whose family had settled in the park, donated their land, set it aside for others to enjoy. Finn’s ability to see traces of it, even if Tom could not, made it all the more real for him.

            Tom looked up at the scudding clouds, pushed by a growing breeze that promised rain, Halloween weather. It was in that time of year that Finn had his first contact with the fairies, with another world that existed alongside the boys’ day to day reality. Even though Tom could not see them, he never doubted that Finn did.  It gave him a sense that life was bigger, more marvelous, than people understood. Those dark, dangerous fays, those who lived deep within the culvert, thrilled Tom. Finn had said that an entrance to the realm of Faerie could be found deep down that midnight black passage. Their presence, which only Finn could detect, gave Tom a sense that any dream in life was possible, for wonders surrounded them. As they passed it, Tom gave the dark culvert a hopeful look and called to Finn, “Did you see movement in the bushes down by the culvert?”

            Without turning, Finn said, “Nope,” and pushed on up the hill.

            Tom cast a longing glance at the shadowed tunnel opening. Once, he had thought he heard deep laughter, voices calling them to venture into the darkness.  Finn, of course, heard them first and stopped them all to listen. Now, Finn hurried up the steep hill in front of them, strong legs driving him fast. “C’mon, Tom! You know how much you like my mom’s protein shakes,” he cried over his shoulder. 

            At that moment, though, Finn stopped and turned, his face bright, and said, “I almost forgot.  Stacey wanted me to invite you two to her family’s party the night before Halloween.  Can you make it?”

            “Sure…will,” Albert gasped, winded by the steep hill.

            “You, Tom?” Finn asked.

            “Yeah, sure…I mean maybe,” he replied a sudden anger filling his thoughts. “I guess they’ll have a lot of food, huh?”

            “Chili, hot dogs, chips, cookies—you name it,” Finn said, turning to hurry up the hill.

 Tom, at a hard hundred and fifty pounds, ran with his dad frequently. That and hours of practice and sparring had granted him speed and greater endurance. Driven by a sudden flush of anger, Tom sprinted to the hilltop outpacing both of them and ran the rest of the way to Finn’s house, despite Albert’s pleas to slow down.  Finn followed on Tom’s heels, unable to catch up.  He was winded by the fast half mile.  Tom stretched in Finn’s yard. They waited for Albert.

            “You…okay, Tom?” Finn asked, leaning on his knees, catching his breath. Tom looked at him without replying.  It still looked like Finn McCoy, the blonde hair, the eager eyes, the face that Tom had always seen as more real than any other. Finn came toward him, gave Tom a shove on the shoulder, which he deflected with ease.  Finn lunged toward Tom again, saying, “C’mon, man.  You know you want a shake, right?”

            Tom stayed out of range, dodging around to Finn’s side. “No. I don’t think I do,” he said. “Think I need to get home and work on the pads and the mook jong. Later.” He turned on his heel and started at a run towards his house.  Finn called after him,

            “So, are you coming to Stacey’s or not?”

            “Maybe,” Tom called back over his shoulder.  “Why not make a clean break with them both?” Tom thought as he ran. “I don’t want to just tag along, though it just doesn’t seem right, now, at Halloween.” Tom was not sure why, but he did not like feeling so angry.  So, he ran harder. He ran past the lot where the vampire’s house had burned to the ground, recalling clearly that it wasn’t just the boys, but their father’s too, who had fought that evil. “Did any of that matter to Finn anymore? To Albert?”

At home, Tom worked on the mook jong, the wooden striking dummy, and practiced his forms concentrating on each movement as his father and his sifu, his coach, had taught him. With concentration and effort, eventually, his anger left him.  He knew that such anger was foolish and was glad to be rid of it.  As he calmed, Tom recognized that Finn was still his friend and that people changed, especially boys struggling to be men. In the place of that anger, though, a shadowy ache remained. Tom sighed, recognizing that change was hard, though he never dreamed it would lead to such a deep feeling of loss. It was something against which he had no defense, that no martial art could fight.

*

            They all walked together to school the next morning, as usual, though Tom stayed silent. He did not wait for Finn and Albert to finish practice that day. Usually, during their practice time, Tom stayed in the school library and did his homework. That day, he simply went home, did his schoolwork,  and waited for his father so that they could go train with Mr. Leung, their coach. Later, he helped his little sister with her homework.  It was whaty his day to day life would look like if he didn’t hand around with Finn and Albert.  Really. It was okay, Tom thought, but it just did not seem right as Halloween approached. Finn had been Tom’s touchstone for magic, the sense that there were greater—or at least other—realities other than their everyday lives. Tom, however, told himself that now it was just different, not bad.  He took up the novel he was reading for English class and sat on his bed, letting Huck Finn’s reality take him away. He had read for about an hour when Albert’s large figure filled the door to his room.

            “Where were you today?” the large boy asked. “We looked in the library for you, but it was locked. Did they close it early or something?”

            “I don’t know.  I came home.  Dad and I went to train as soon as his shift was over,” Tom replied. “Why?”

            “Well…you…you’re usually there, right?”

            “Did you need me for something?” Tom asked. Tom wondered if, actually hoped, Finn had sent Albert. That wasn’t what Finn would have done, though.  If he cared about what was bugging Tom, he’d have come himself.  Well, at one time, that’s what Finn would have done. With a sigh, Tom tossed aside Huckleberry Finn, moved his legs off his bed, and invited Albert to sit down.

            “You…you’ve read more of that than I have,” Albert said, gesturing to the book.

            “Um hm,” Tom grunted and nodded. Albert had come on his own.  “Almost finished, really.  It’s a good read. I like it.”

            “What’s it about?” Albert asked.

            “A boy named Huck Finn, growing up, dealing with important changes, which you’d know if you read any of it…Bertie.” Tom replied with a wry smile. Albert’s head sagged on his wide shoulders. He sighed.

            “Yeah, I know. I gotta hit the books more.” Albert paused before adding, “Guess I better get used to that name, huh?” he muttered, “though I wish I didn’t have to.”

            “I reckon that’s the way changes go, pal.  They happen, and we have to get used to them.  Sometimes, like with Huck, we come to places where we have to face the consequences of change, especially in what we value.  Maybe, if you don’t like that name, see what you can do about getting another, get as strong as you can and quicker on your feet and become Big Al, or something,” Tom said.

            “Dealing with consequences?  Maybe that’s what you were doing, skipping out on me and Finn, today?  You know, getting used to the changes in him, maybe me, too?” Albert asked with a grin. Tom looked at Albert and returned his knowing grin.

            “Good one, Albert. I guess maybe I am,” Tom said in a quiet voice.

            “I don’t like Finn changing, either,” Albert replied, just above a whisper. “It’s like he’s moving away. He’s like part of a world that doesn’t include us, now. I don’t really mind that he’s not seeing…all that spooky stuff, like he used to. I just miss…us. We were the team before, even though I always felt like I was the weakest part of it.  I guess I still am.”

            “We all brought what strength we had to it, but Big Al, what can we do about it?  Finn has changed, you’re changing, and I guess I am too.”

“Because you’re a better Kung Fun guy?”

Tom shrugged. “Maybe so.  My coach says that my technique and power are getting really good. He’s introducing me to meditation and higher forms, now. He likes that I’m more focused, that my moves are second nature.  It’s basic to me. I respond from its perspective and don’t have to think to do it.  Dad sees it too.”

            “That’s great, though, right?” Albert asked. “Like no one could take you by surprise, sucker punch you.”

            “Well, no.  That could happen, but training like I do gives me balance, gets me used to defensive encounters so that they don’t take me by surprise.  That’s the goal of any martial art, I think, but it hasn’t stopped me feeling disconnected from my friend. I guess that’s as bad as a sucker punch. I have no defense against loss, which is what I feel about Finn, you too, really.”

            Albert nodded his agreement, but he did not look Tom in the eye. “Yeah, sadness just sucks, is all, and that’s what I feel, mostly. I…I miss… how we were. Even when things got all scary, there was something really magical about them, especially since Finn…” Albert choked on  what he wanted to say. “I mean, I miss his family, too, his mom and especially his dad, who’s so cool.  I even felt close to his pesky sisters especially around the holidays, right?”

            “Yeah. Me, too,” Tom whispered, “but we’ll be together like always when we go to Stacey’s party this year, right?  It will almost be Halloween. Maybe we’ll learn how to be together—but in a different way. Maybe.”  Albert nodded and left without saying anything more. Tom’s sadness did not go away, so he began to try and accept it and carry it as best he could.

            Indeed, Finn didn’t seem to take any notice of Tom’s absence. He asked Albert, once, where Tom had gotten to and was told that he was just doing “more of that Kung Fu stuff.” Finn appeared to be okay with that. Albert wondered how long it would be until Finn stopped keeping company with him, too.  All three were only in one class together, Algebra II, where they sat in alphabetical order, and Albert Miller was a little closer to Finn McCoy. Tom’s seat was in the front, so he left class before them, a fact that Finn didn’t seem to notice.

*

            The day of the party came, and Tom, wearing his dad’s old navy blazer and jeans, called for Albert at his house and found that he had already left for the party. So, Tom walked to Stacey’s house alone, taking in the lit jack o’ lanterns on porches, the fake ghosts hanging from trees and moving with the cool breeze, the corn stalks rustling. Stacey’s street was full of cars, making Tom remember that this was a family party that would bring in many people he did not know, maybe even girls, classmates of Stacey at Ascension Academy. Maybe, meeting a new girlfriend would help him forget the loss of the vicarious magic he once experienced around Finn. Again, Maybe.

Conspicuous on the sidewalk in front of Stacey’s house was a black Harley Davidson. It stank of oil and gas and featured a long front fork and tall handlebars. Tom edged around it as others did. He joined people he did not know, Stacey’s extended family, walking up to the house past yard decorations.  It certainly looked like Halloweens from their shared past.  Stacey’s mother, stationed at the front door to greet people, was giving out candy and welcoming everyone by name, including Tom.

            “Well, hello, Tom Doughty! You look all grown up in that sport coat, dear,” she said with a smile. “Albert, Finn and Stacey and her friends are all out back.  There’s chili, chips, and drinks on the table in the kitchen.  Help yourself as you go through.” She handed him a piece of candy.  Tom pocketed it with a smile.

            “Thank you, ma’am,” Tom replied. “Who’s motorcycle is that out there?”

            “Oh, that belongs to my older sister’s eldest son, John. I asked him to move it an hour ago, though he hasn’t yet. He’s, well, different, these days, my sister says. Likely, he’s out back, too, sitting by the fire,” she explained.  She used that half hushed tone that grown-ups reserved for difficult family members.

            Tom passed through the crowd of relatives in the living room and dining area and that, too, was like going through Halloweens past. As he made his way through aunts, uncles, and cousins, big and little, chatting, Bobby “Boris” Pickett’s greatest hit, “Monster Mash,” played on the console stereo in the living room. Tom had not heard it this year,  which gave him the sense that he was passing from his old ideas of Halloween to something new.  With his hand on the back doorknob, he stopped as though touching the knob had sent a message through his hand: “What I see here, in this backyard, will tell me what Halloween is now.”

            He had no preparation for what he saw.  Indeed, just outside the door, he stopped in shock. Finn was there, in the growing darkness, standing just behind the fire, hands on his hips.  He stared at a shorter man, who stood between Finn and Stacey.  The shorter man’s right arm was over her shoulder, forcing her close to his side, his hand squeezing her hard enough to make her wince.

            The man between them was shorter than Finn, slender to the point of being gaunt, hair black and slicked down to his head, a greasy ponytail hanging down in back, wrap around shades covering eyes that were fixed on Finn.  The man’s left hand was behind his back. His stance, weight balanced and slightly back, suggested to Tom that he was ready to attack, that behind his back, there was a weapon, one he knew how to use—and would use with little provocation. Tom started towards them and said,

            “Finn, step back, please,” for Tom saw something else, something other about the man in the shades: a shadow behind the man, like a darkness deeper than the dusk of the evening, moving in a way that shadows should not move.  It was jagged and flickering, and there was nothing, no wall or fence onto which a shadow could be projected. The fire did not cause it, Tom saw, for its jerking motions shifted behind the man, going now toward Stacey, now toward Finn and back, its hands reaching, as it would tug both of them closer, keep Stacey in the man’s grasp, Finn where the weapon could be turned on him. Tom thought the weapon was likely a knife, since a firearm didn’t need to be close to kill. Something in the man’s bearing told him that this man had killed before—and would again.

            Finn, shot a glance at Tom but didn’t budge.  Finn looked uncertain, standing there tense in his St. Francis sweatshirt. The shadow man fit, somehow, with the motorcycle out front.  He was family, and Finn was uncertain about what to do about a member of Stacey’s family.  Tom saw the anger, as well, on Finn’s face. He would not back down but wasn’t sure about what to do. Finn took a deep breath and wiped his brow, as though he was sweating on a night that was quite cool. He was going to do something to stop the shadow man from hurting Stacey.  Tom saw the man’s left hand tighten on whatever weapon he had.  Tom watched the muscles of his arm tense. Tom said, “Finn, buddy, come here, please.”

            Albert was behind Tom, just then, leaning towards his right side. “Th-that man, says he’s Stacey’s uncle, but he ain’t right, Tom,” Albert managed to whisper. “You should have heard him talk to Stacey and her girlfriends.  It was sick, and Finn got mad, got up and started to go after him.”  There were other kids around them, sitting by the fire, holding cups of drink or plates of food. They all stayed still, frozen in place by what was going on.  They watched, unmoving, the man in the shades. They were frightened rabbits in the presence of a hungry snake. Albert whispered, again, in a tense voice, “Finn won’t back down.”

            “Big Al, go in and see if you can get Stacey’s mom to bring her nephew a bowl of chili, okay? Go slow, like nothing is wrong,” Tom said.  Albert moved away, drifting into the deeper shadows towards the corner of the house, away from the fire. Strangely, Albert did not trip over anything.

            “No, Finn doesn’t back down,” Tom said to himself. That was one reason that Tom loved Finn as much as he did. Finn never feared doing what he thought was right. He ran toward danger, the unknown. In that way, he had not changed, but just now that might get him stabbed, maybe killed. Tom nodded and said, “Look, Finn.  You need to see what only you can see.” Finn, then, took a step back, turned his angry eyes toward Tom, stopped, and nodded. He turned to look at Stacey’s uncle and took another step back.  Tom moved towards the fire, as Finn backed away from it, away from the threat that Tom saw so clearly.  The man in the shades kept his hand on Stacey’s shoulder, pushed her down into a lawn chair, and moved behind her. Her eyes were like saucers, like she was more scared than hurt, like she did not know why.

            “Who’s the guy, looks like somebody’s dad? Looks like he can fight, too,” Stacey’s uncle  muttered in low harsh tones as his stare took in Tom. He had shifted into a balanced neutral stance, offering no guard but ready to move.  He had done so without thinking, but the man in the sunglasses noticed. Finn backed away from the fire, edging back toward where Tom stood.

            “I’m Tom Doughty.  You must be the gentleman whose motorcycle is blocking the sidewalk.  You’re her Uncle John, I guess,” Tom said as he gestured to Stacey.

            “T-Tom, this is John Ketcham, He’s—” Stacey stuttered, trying hard to be polite in a tough situation.

            “Shut up, girl,” her uncle said, squeezing her shoulder again, making her wince. “Call me Ketch, boy.”

            Tom nodded and touched Finn’s left elbow as he backed towards him. Tom whispered, “What is he, Finn?”

            “He’s a dead man, if he doesn’t let Stacey go,” Finn rumbled in reply.

            “No, why does he have a shadow that moves when he doesn’t,” Tom asked in a whisper that only Finn could hear.

            “He—” Finn stopped. “I…I don’t know,” he whispered back to Tom. “You’re right but how’d you know?”

            “I used to have this friend who could see what was really there,” Tom whispered. “Picked up a thing or two from him.”

            Finn looked down at the grass, shook his head slowly. “Tom, I kn—”

            “Now isn’t the time,” Tom replied. Finn nodded.

            “I don’t know what’s going on with him, but he’s bad, like crazy, and that free form shadow might be what drives him.  Maybe we need to help him get rid of it?”

            “Is that what we do?” Tom asked. Finn turned a questioning look at Tom and did not reply.

            “You two are doin’ an awful lot of whispering over there,” the man called  Ketch said. “And why do I think it’s about me?” He let go of Stacey’s shoulder and the weapon behind his back and walked around the fire towards Tom and Finn. Stacey sagged in the chair and closed her eyes. Finn started to go to her, but Tom held him. The way Ketch moved, in Tom’s understanding, showed that he did not need a weapon to be deadly. He wore the remains of an olive drab uniform shirt, cut off at the shoulders.  The name patch was torn to the point where it said only “Ketch.” He did not just walk: he moved into position. Sinewy arms relaxed in the black t-shirt under the old fatigue top. Tom knew that he would be close enough to strike either of them soon.  Tom smelled the alcohol and cigarette stench that hung about Ketch as he stepped nearer. Tom stayed relaxed, balanced, but he recognized that Ketch wasn’t drunk, unless he always was.

            Ketch gave him a slight left shoulder feint, and Finn lifted a hand, though Tom did not move. Ketch wasn’t close enough.  He was just testing them.  That Tom did not react made Ketch grin, though it had no joy in it.

            “Stacey’s mom said you boys were real heroes, in a once upon a time sorta way,” Ketch said with a grin, “like you saved some folks from sort of spook or somethin.’” Tom  was sure that the smile didn’t reach Ketch’s eyes, not that it was possible to tell behind the black sunglasses.  He stood so still that Tom found him a bit unnerving. Ketch knew not to telegraph a strike.  Only his shadow flickered and bounced, like an insane thing tethered to him.  Finn moved uneasily at Tom’s side, folding his heavy arms over his chest.  Ketch’s gaze, as far as Tom could tell, never left his face. He had dismissed Finn, which Tom knew was a stupid thing to do.

            “More necessary that heroic,” Finn said his jaw tight.

            “Not really talkin’ to you, muscle head,” Ketch replied. “I’m addressin’ myself to the only fighter here. What you got for me, boy?”

            “Depends,” Tom said.

            “Tom’s right,” Finn added. “We don’t know quite what to do with that shadow at your back, though we’ll figure it out.” Finn’s revelation that he could see the shadow hit Ketch like an unexpected blow.

            Ketch staggered backwards with a sudden shake of his head, face muscles convulsing. For a second, the wrap around shades fell away from his eyes, small eyes, like a terrified child’s eyes. They darted this way and that, like the shadow behind him.  Ketch hurriedly pushed the shades back into place. Tom and Finn watched Ketch’s shadow rise up as though it was screaming, though no sound came, except a strangled grunt from Ketch’s throat. And before Tom could blink, Ketch reached to his rear waist band and pulled a long knife.  Its point wavered before them, just out of range.

            “Whoa! That’s a knife!” Albert gasped.  He was standing behind Tom.  Back-up, though a bit unwilling. Things were about to start, and Tom relaxed, ready for whatever came.

            Behind Tom, Finn, and Albert, the back door opened, and Stacey’s mom bustled out, holding a steaming bowl of chili before her, talking fast as she approached.

            “Oh, John, I’m so sorry. I should have served you sooner.  I guess I just—Oh, my! That is a big knife!” she finished in a rush.

            “Yeah,” muttered Albert.

            Ketch backed another step away, almost into the fire,  glaring at her, at Tom and Finn. “Ahh…” he said with a shake of his head.

            “Uncle John was just showing it to us,” Finn said, which, in a way, was true. “It sure does look sharp!”

            “Well, it is a knife, right?” Tom said in quiet tones, at which Finn chuckled.  Taking a quick step toward Ketch, Tom reached out and took the weapon from him, felt the man’s hand trembling, though it came away without a struggle. Finn passed the bowl of chili to Ketch, who took it with shaking fingers, his hidden eyed glance shifting between all three of them.

            “Oh, I know how you boys like such things, but please be careful not to cut yourselves!” she exclaimed, turning to hurry back into the light of the kitchen. She left them in a deep silence, with Ketch staring at his chili. Tom tossed the knife up and caught it by its tip, the razor-like edge pricking his fingers. He proffered it to Ketch, handle first. who stared at it before he let the chili fall onto the grass and jerked the knife back.

            Ketch stuck the knife back in its sheath, leaning back. His right heel landed in the fire pit. He gave a startled cry and sent a shower of sparks into the deepening dark. They engulfed his wavering shadow. It twisted as though it felt the heat. “N,no, No!” A gurgling scream of anguish forced itself out of Ketch’s throat, and he bolted away from the boys, heading for the side of the house.  On instinct, Finn grabbed at him, and to his and Tom’s amazement, Finn caught the shadow. Its insubstantial matter twisted in Finn’s powerful hand.  Tom saw it there in Finn’s grasp, a struggling, shifting thing, a monster caught by the boy who saw what was really there. Ketch staggered to the ground with a loud cry as the shadow detached from him.  He clutched at his chest as though his heart was being torn free.

            Yet Ketch reacted fast, though gasping and shaking. He pulled his knife, and lunged at Finn, in whose hand the shadow writhed. Tom did not stop to think, despite his amazement at seeing all this with his own eyes: his right foot lanced out and deflected the strike. Without obvious effort, Tom drew back his kicking leg and thrust a stronger kick which landed on Ketch’s hip, knocking him to the ground.  Tom stood relaxed and ready, in case Ketch rose to fight again.

            From the ground, where Ketch panted on his hands and knees, he cried, “No! I…I need it.  It’s…human…It was…it is…me!”

            Nothing, no one moved in that back yard, except the frenetic shadow in Finn’s grip.

            “Is it his soul?” Tom asked in hushed tones. “How can that be?”

            “What horrors would you have to see, do to warp your soul enough to have it outside your body?” Finn asked. A horrific thought rose in Tom’s mind. and he whispered,

            “Maybe you have to become something like death itself, living just to make people hurt as much as…you can.” In that moment, Tom sensed that, whatever his soul was, it was enmeshed with Finn’s, with the souls of Stacey, Albert, indeed with the few other young people who sat around the fire unmoving, though, mercifully, they weren’t seeing what was happening. No other soul so much as touched Ketch’s. Tom said, “Finn, my brother, let it go.”

            Finn nodded, and both boys stared at the shape of deeper darkness that fought in vain to escape Finn’s grasp.  Its insubstantial hands pushed at Finn’s hands, its arms, legs, and head jagged in outline, jerked and jittered,  desperate to return to the monster that Ketch had become.  Finn released it, and it flashed back to Ketch, dissolving into him, around him. Ketch cried out in agony and jerked as though shocked. His body convulsed as though his soul’s reattachment wove pain through every nerve and muscle.

Ketch almost dropped his knife, but in a sudden grasping motion of his hand around the handle, he grew still again. “Heroes,” he said, spitting the name onto the ground. “You can’t kill. You’re not men, never will be!”  With that, Ketch turned and bolted into the dark. Tom and Finn both sighed in relief. In another second, the sound of the motorcycle coughing to life on the front sidewalk reached them.  They heard it roar away into the night.

            Finn turned and went to Stacey’s side. One of her girlfriends was asking her what was wrong, as Stacy shed a few tears quietly and rubbed her shoulder.  Finn gathered her into a gentle embrace and whispered, “He’s gone.”

            “Wh…what was he, and how come Finn could grasp his shadow?” Albert asked as he came to sit with them.

            “You saw that, too?” Finn asked. “I guess you two don’t need me to see things anymore.”

            “I think maybe we do,” Tom said, “but we have to be together.” Finn looked at him and nodded and replied in subdued tones,

            “We’ll need to talk about that.”

Tom patted his shoulder, a casual move but one that came in a moment of great relief. Finn was himself again and more, as gifted as he was and growing. Tom looked at Albert, who smiled and nodded, as though he read Tom’s mind.

            “What shadow?” Stacey asked. “Wait. No. Don’t tell me. I don’t really care.  I’m just glad he’s gone.”

            “Was he always…you know…cruel…to you?” Finn asked her.

            “A long time ago, when I was little, he was…okay, really.  Sometimes he was mean, like, to pets.  You couldn’t leave him alone with a small animal.  He got in trouble at school for bullying…but never like he is now,” Stacey said in a soft voice.           

“Um, Ketch was in the military?” Tom asked, getting a nod from Stacey.

            “Yeah, and he was gone for a long time, maybe a couple of years, and no one knew where he was. Maybe it was that…that changed him, what happened in the jungle… that made him worse, but he’s been back for almost a year,” she said, “But my aunt says that she doesn’t…know him anymore.”

            “We all change as we grow,” Tom said, and Finn turned to look him in the eye, “but we’re still the people we were—”

            “As well as the choices we make,” Finn whispered.  He extended his left hand to Tom, who grasped it and held it tight. They sat around the fire, which Albert fed from a nearby stack of wood. It’s friendly warmth embraced them.

*

            The next night, Halloween,found Finn, Tom, and Albert out on the streets though not in costume. Without being asked, the shepherded Tom’s sister, Finn’s sisters, and several small children as they went door to door in colorful costumes. The trio talked to neighbors and stayed on the sidewalks in front of the doors which disgorged candy by the handfuls. And every small child in that group tried to be the one to hold Albert’s hand. They all offered Albert candy, which he refused, insisting that they keep their treats and enjoy them a little each day until Christmas. He was sure that there would be enough to last.

When the young ones had gone in, the three boys walked the neighborhood, watching for trickers who weren’t interested in treats. Finn showed them the places where he usually saw ghosts, and they even walked into the dark park, down to the culvert, going slowly so that Finn could spot fairie movement. He reported none, but that did not detract from the feeling of mystery and magic that pervaded their evening. Even Albert took a new interest Finn’s “spooky stuff.” In their eyes, the jack o’ lanterns burned with a brighter light, and the moon and stars on that cool, cloudless night waxed proudly in their brilliance. All three boys walked the street as protectors, trying to make sure that nothing too spooky marred the evening, and the magical feeling of the night helped them. 

Tom and Albert, of course, walked with Finn to Stacey’s house when the last of the trick or treaters left the streets. “Stacey says that several of her girlfriends called today to ask about my two buddies,” Finn told them. Tom nodded and Albert blushed so much that it was visible in the dark.  Everything, especially as they went towards Stacey’s house, possessed a glow under the moon and stars. Most folk would have attributed this feeling to young men’s fancy, brought on by the brisk air under the clear cold sky and the chance to meet girls. They had all experienced it before, though two of them had thought it was lost and one had mistakenly desired it to be so. This Halloween night, none of the three doubted idea that the barriers between worlds could grow thin.

            As they were walking to Stacey’s house, Tom said, “So, maybe this is what we do now: be where we are needed to keep the bad things out.”

            “Yeah, maybe so,” Finn said. “I thought, maybe I could be done with all that, you know?”

            “Why would you want to?” Albert asked.  “I mean, who can grab a shadow with his bare hands? That’s pretty amazing, right?”

            “I don’t know how or why I could do that,” Finn said. “I just began to feel like I didn’t want to be…different, you know? I just wanted to be regular, just another guy.”

            “Maybe that’s your cover identity,” Tom said. “Jock by day, supernatural protector by night?”

            “Gotta be your’s too, though, right?” Finn replied. “Ol’ Ketch couldn’t take you!”

            “Yeah, maybe, but I needed help from Stacey’s mom, too,” Tom added. “If Ketch was casting a spell, she broke it!” They all laughed, remembering her bustling around, bearing that steaming bowl of chili like a defensive weapon. She had been more than a bit offended that he did not eat her chili and left the party without so much as a “by your leave.” Stacey had said that she would try to explain everything to her mom later, hoping that cousin Ketch was not invited back—until he changed his ways, if he could.

 As they rounded the corner onto Stacey’s street, the air in front of them began to shimmer. Finn put out his arms to stop them before Tom and Albert walked into it. The shimmering increased.  They all saw it form as a vertical line of orange light in the air before them.

“St…Stacey? Is that you?” Albert stammered.

  None of them dared to breath.

            The fiery line widened, and a figure stepped into their world. She looked for all the world like Stacey and stood before them, her eyes glowing red as Stacey’s surely did not. She was dressed in crimson swaths of fabric that billowed around her, as did her long red hair,  in a wind they did not feel. And she had wings, wide, long-feathered, snow-white pinions that spread out ten feet wide behind her, moving to keep her still in the wind they did not feel. Without preamble, she said, in tones that sounded as though they came from a distance,

            “This is what you do, you three.  You have been seen.  You have been marked.  You will know more when he discovers his gift.  I will be in touch.  See that you are, as well.”

            A sizzling noise filled the air. The Stacey-shaped apparition stepped back through the glowing aperture.  It closed with a popping sound, leaving the three boys standing there, mouths agape.

            “What…Who…?” Albert sputtered.

            “I am pretty sure that was not Stacey,” Tom said. Finn nodded, turning to look at his friends.

            “No,” he said. “It was just how she—it—chose to appear to us. But Albert, when she said ‘he’ she pointed at you.”

            “Oh…oh, my,” Albert said with a gulp, and Finn and Tom turned knowing smiles towards him. A fresh Halloween wind, bearing a touch of winter and Christmas to come, blew around them, ruffling their hair and chilling the new sweat upon Albert’s wide forehead.

 As Halloweens go, it was a good one.

            [There will be a break in the action, until Christmas, as the powers that be ponder just how to tell the next tale.  Happy Halloween! M.J.]