Shades

It shifted, resembling the padding of paws. One second it was behind the couch. The next, it was beneath the recliner, and then perched atop the lamp, and finally all three at the same time. His head darted back and forth, trying to track it, but he still saw nothing. His heart hammered, and his ears rang. The sound changed again to the clicking of crab shells. Whatever it was, he’d heard it before—that night outside the abandoned Greek restaurant, when he’d teleported himself. The same day he’d discovered a dead body…

…and discovered magic.

The sound solidified and Danny felt a presence in the room. The air seemed heavy, the atmosphere electric. The lamp dimmed; then flickered out completely, plunging the living room into darkness.

Whimpering, Danny pulled his feet up onto the sofa.

Headlights flashed through the gap in the curtains. A car pulled into the driveway, his mother; the engine’s sickly whine was as familiar as anything else in the house. At the same moment, the presence vanished. The lamp bulb brightened again, dispelling the darkness. The noises stopped. Whatever it had been, it was gone.

Outside, the car door slammed. He heard footsteps and the jangle of keys. His mother opened the trunk. Bags rustled and glass bottles clicked together. Then she slammed the trunk. Her footsteps headed up the driveway.

Pushing the fear from his mind, Danny focused on his breathing, forcing himself to calm down and relax. Visualize. Despite everything that had just happened, he looked remarkably tranquil on the sofa, eyelids half-closed, mouth open, pulse and breathing slowing. Only his eyes moved.

The keys jangled in the lock. A moment later, the front door opened, and his mother walked in.

“You’re home,” she mumbled. “What are you doing?”

Danny couldn’t respond. Although he remained still, his eyes widened. The visualization had worked—maybe too well. The demon Alcohol clung to her back. It looked like a mutant monkey-mosquito hybrid. A proboscis fed directly into her brain. He knew that his mind had created this thing to symbolize her dependency, but it seemed so real. Its flesh wiggled as she shut the door behind her. Its glowing, insect-like eyes regarded him without blinking, a thousand facets of glossy red. He could even smell the creature—rotten and spoiled and sickly. Its thick-toed feet clutched her shoulders. Her hair was twisted in its stubby fingers.

“Danny?” His mother sat the bags down on the coffee table. The bottles clinked.

“Hey, Mom…”

He was suddenly overcome with doubt. What the hell was he doing? Was it possible to stop the thing crawling on his mother? Was it really just his mind’s creation, a representation of her disease, or had he somehow made it real through magic?

His mother collapsed into the recliner, kicked off her shoes, and rummaged through the bags.

“God,” she moaned. “What a day. I hate that fucking place. How was school?”

“Okay,” he lied. “Boring.”

Sighing, his mother pulled a bottle of vodka from the bag and twisted the cap. Then she took a drink.

“Mmm, that hits the spot. I needed this.”

The creature cooed, shivering with pleasure. Danny squirmed. If his mother heard it, she gave no indication.

She looked at him and smiled weakly. Then she took another drink.

The energies he’d been gathering inside coalesced and Danny let them fly, imagining them as a blistering ball that scorched the air between them. He thrust out his hands. Blistering light erupted from his fingertips and struck the demon in the head, severing the spear-like proboscis. Red energy fizzled from the hollow tube like blood, and his mother gasped.

The demon roared; a thousand nails across a thousand chalkboards. Its flesh blackened, blistered and exploded. Flaming chunks splattered against the wall, and sludge pooled on the carpet. His mother was covered in gore. She took another swig from the bottle, stared at his trembling hands, his fingers pointed towards her, and frowned.

“What are you doing, Danny? You look like you’re having a seizure.”

Incredibly, the creature was still moving. Its burning remains leaped into the air, narrowly missing the ceiling, and landed on the carpet, a headless, twitching abomination. Danny reached out with his mind and caught it, gripping the monster with his will, crushing the wriggling thing in on itself, tearing through its body like termites through soft wood.

His mother called his name again. Gray-green demon blood dripped into her open mouth.

“Danny, what’s wrong with you?”

The demon vanished, obliterated.

“Danny? Answer me. Are you okay?”

He blinked, then raised his head and smiled at her.

“I’m fine, Mom. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“Good. You know, sometimes I—”

She trailed off. Her jaw went slack. Her eyes drooped. Slowly, the vodka bottle slipped from her grasp and clattered to the floor. The liquid sloshed out onto the gore. His mother slumped over in the chair, unconscious.

“Mom!”