Out Of The Dark by Phaedra Weldon Page A

Dags and Zoë
said they saw two of the little buggers and they tried to trip us
up the stairs --but then a third one showed Zoë where the papers
were."
    Tim said, "You think there were two different
pairings of Shadow Folk? Two different kinds?"
    I nodded. I definitely felt a difference in
them. The first were nasty and the second were nice. But I didn't
scribble this down.
    Nona nodded. "It's possible I guess."
    Dags cleared his throat. His voice sounded
thin and small. "I have a really weird question --" he looked
around. Everyone was listening. "You said earlier that Shadow Folk
--or the kind we think of as Brownies --weren't originally
human?"
    Mom shrugged. "That was the feeling comment.
According to the book, they could have been."
    "So," he shrugged. "If I'm understanding any
of this--it is possible to turn someone into a Shadow Person?"
    Rhonda shivered. So did I. That thought was
just --well --oogie.
    Mom shook her head. "I don't really know. The
book says they're humans touched by the elements. I don't know how
you'd do that. What kind of ritual or event would happen? But if
there is a way to turn living people in to Shadow Forms--" she made
a face. "I think it would call for the death of the living victim.
Since the Folk live somewhere on the Astral, Abysmal or
Ethereal."
    "Well, that would make sense if you
considered the transmitter theory we had. If their essence resided
on the Astral, Abysmal or Ethereal planes, then we don't have the
filters to see their true forms. Thus we get shadows." Rhonda
said.
    Jemmy grunted. "I say they're on the
we-don't-go-there plane." She shifted in her chair. "But I'm
curious, boy, why you asked that question?"
    Dags shrugged. "I think it's because --while
we were upstairs--and Zoë was following that one shadow around --I
got a really familiar vibe from it."
    "Vibe?" Mom said.
    Rhonda patted her hand. "He got a feeling
from it."
    Mom shot Rhonda a "watch-it" look. Hey --now
I know where I get that frown. The one Daniel said reminded him of
an evil puppet.
    Sigh. Daniel .
    Tim spoke up. "So --and correct me on this
since I'm trying to follow the conversation over a period of days
--are you saying you recognized one of the Shadows?"
    Dags shook his head. "Not the first two.
Those felt wrong, kind of like the atrium felt in the hospital and
the symbols immediately went active and I blasted them," he held
out his hands. "All kinda--"
    Scribble. OOGIE.
    Dags nodded and pointed to my board. "Yeah,
like that. But afterward when we realized there were more Shadows
in the loft, that third one felt… calmer."
    "No, not calm," Rhonda said with a tap to her
chin. "It felt like desperation to me."
    My stomach growled. I really needed food.
    Nona held up her hands. "Wait...you blasted the first two away? What do you mean by
blasted?"
    Uh-oh. That's right. Mom didn't know about
Mr. Bartender here and his freaky palm-powered powers.
    This should be interesting.
    I finished up my tea as Rhonda and Dags
tag-teamed filling mom and Jemmy in on his tattoos and light
power.
    Mom's expression caught my attention.
"Darren..." that was so mom, calling him by his given name and not
his nickname. She held out her hand. "Let me see them."
    Dags offered her his palms, face up.
    I watched her clasp each hand in her own and
then she rubbed her thumbs in the palms. The circles glowed a faint
blue, exposing their details. Dags' closed his eyes and winced as
if he were in pain.
    "You do realize you're wide open," she arched
an eyebrow at him as he focused on her face. "With these symbols
cut into your skin--they're like an Open House sign for just about
any un-fettered creature."
    "Open House?" Dags swallowed.
    Jemmy nodded. "Boy--this Bonville? Sounds
like he was planning on using all four of you Guardians as
sacrifices."
    Rhonda sat forward. "For what?"
    Jemmy smiled. "That, my dear, is exactly what
we have to find out."
    Nona smiled. "Most of these gitchi-goomie
cults or groups use their books like diaries,