Chapter Thirteen: The Shadow Man
Disclaimer: Hellboy characters do not belong to me. However, Erica and the Shadow Man are mine.
Author's Notes: Thanks for the wonderful reviews Scorponis, Blu Embyr, Psycho Llama, and DarkCloudRider! I think they might have been the best ever, if that is even possible when so many people leave great and inspiring reviews! As always, any ideas and suggestions are still welcome. BTW, I'm only expecting to write three to four more chapters after this, making a grand total of sixteen or seventeen! But never fear, I'm already sketching out a plot line for a sequel, and I would love any ideas you have concerning that. Anyways, in this chapter Erica comes face to face with Kroenen and the mystery of the Shadow Man is explained at last! Everyone review, pretty please!
Scorponis: Yay! A new reviewer! I love your name, very original! In this chapter you'll get to see some of what happens when she faces Kroenen, but there'll be more of that in the next chapter too.
Blu Embyr: Thanks! I did try to make it as realistic as possible.
Psycho Llama: Best chapter? They do seem to keep getting better as I go, probably because the loose ends are being brought together. So here's you're chapter, I wrote it quickly as you requested! This one's a little intense too, I can't wait to hear what you think of it!
DarkCloudRider: The Shadow Man is finally explained in this chapter! And don't worry, I will finish my story! I hope you didn't hurt your laptop, or your toe, when you dropped it!
"Man is a being with free will; therefore, each man is potentially good or evil, and it's up to him and only him (through his reasoning mind) to decide which he wants to be."—Ayn Rand
Night of October 4, 1944
Kroenen glanced at one of the many clocks on his desk, restlessly tapping his fingers on the chessboard. Erica was late. She should have been here by now, he thought. After waiting for a few more minutes, he finally stood up and left his study to find Erica. I'll check her study first, he thought, that's most likely where she'll be.
As he walked down the corridor that led to her study there was a sudden crash that sounded like glass being broken. That sound was shortly followed by a surprising racket of breaking things and thuds that grew louder as he approached the closed door of Erica's study. Just as he reached the door of her study, the thuds and crashes coming from inside ceased abruptly.
Kroenen cautiously knocked on the door. A moment later the door opened and Erica appeared in the doorway, looking extremely, almost sickly pale. For a moment Kroenen was very taken aback.
"Are you alright?" he asked, concerned.
"What? Oh, yes, perfectly fine. Do you want something?" she asked.
He didn't believe that everything was as alright as she said, but he answered her question.
"I was wondering why you were so late."
"Late? For what?" she asked.
"To play chess. Ilsa told me you were going to come."
For a moment she looked at him blankly, like she had completely forgotten about it. He watched her closely, wondering what was wrong, she almost never forgot things.
"Oh, that's right, I did say I was coming. I'm sorry—I—I don't think I'm coming tonight."
"Why not?" he asked, suddenly feeling disappointed. He had been looking forward to the chess game all evening.
"Well…" Erica said, "It's not like you don't know what the outcome will be."
"Yes, I've always wondered how you can lose when you could use your visions to see what I'm going to do."
"There's no point in cheating against you in chess—if I won it would be an empty victory."
"True, but you still haven't said why you're not coming." he said.
And that was when he caught a glimpse of her study through the half open door. Her study was in complete disarray: papers, books, and broken glass were all over the floor; the objects that were usually on her desk were scattered across the room, several chairs had been overturned; and a variety of other things had been smashed or hurled into the fireplace.
"What have you been doing?" Kroenen asked, feeling slightly stunned.
He pushed past her and into her study, and Erica followed him.
"Oh, I've just been… redecorating." she said, her voice sounding a little strained.
"Redecorating." he repeated, unconvinced.
Kroenen walked over to stand in front of Erica, broken glass crunching under his boots as he went. This close to her he could see that beyond being pale, her face was tearstained and her eyes slightly pink from crying. In all the years he had known her, he couldn't remember her ever looking like this. In fact, she looked like she was sick. Erica, feeling his close scrutiny of her appearance, averted her eyes and looked down at the floor. Kroenen caught her chin and turned her face so she was looking up at him.
"What's wrong? You're so pale… Are you ill?"
"I—I think I just need to lay down for a while." she muttered.
That was when he noticed something different about her, other then the slightly alarming fact that she looked ill. It wasn't something he could give a name to—in fact, he wasn't entirely sure what it was about her that was different.
"Something's…different about you," he said, looking at her intently, "Is anything troubling you?"
"No. No, everything's… fine."
He cocked his head, studying her. It suddenly occurred to him that she looked similar to the way she had looked when they had first started teaching her to control her visions.
"What have you foreseen?" he asked.
"I haven't foreseen anything." she said, her grey eyes looking right at him.
Kroenen felt skeptical that she was telling the truth. "Very well," he said at last, "You may tell me in your own good time."
He dropped his hand from her face and she backed away a little.
"I'm tired, I'm going to sleep," she said, and then started towards the open doorway.
Kroenen followed her out, shutting the door of her study behind him. As she started down the corridor, he called after her.
"Goodnight."
She turned and looked at him, with what was obviously a forced smile on her face.
"Goodnight," she replied.
Kroenen watched her intently as she turned and continued walking down the corridor, heading for her room. When she disappeared around the corner, he returned to his study where he sank into the chair at his desk. He glanced at the chessboard set up on his desk, all the pieces standing in their neat ordered rows. Carelessly, he put his feet up on his desk, knocking some of the chess pieces over so that they rolled around on the desk.
I hope she's not sick, he thought, October ninth isn't far away, and we'll need her help. We can't afford for her to get sick.
But on the other hand, there was also a chance that she wasn't sick, and that she had had a disturbing vision that had upset her.
Perhaps it's something about our plans for October ninth, he thought, Yes, that must be it. It must be about a problem with our plans. Why else would she be so upset? But as soon as he thought that, another thought invaded his mind. If she had had a disturbing vision about their plans, why hadn't she said anything, and why hadn't she shown him her vision? Or better yet, why hadn't she rushed off to show Grigory?
Another unpleasant thought snuck up on him. If her vision had upset her, why had she tried to pretend that everything was alright? Could she possibly have seen something so terrible that she couldn't bear to face or discuss it?
The only way to answer those questions was to pursue the matter and ask her again if she had had a vision. But he would give her some time to calm down first, after all, if it was so distressing, she probably wouldn't want to share it with them right away.
And if she doesn't share it with you? murmured a voice in the back of his head.
Kroenen shook his head to clear it. Why would he even think that? The very reason Erica was part of the Thule Occult Society was because she had sworn to show her visions to them. I'll ask her tomorrow, he decided, after we're finished packing up the portal generator for transportation.
XXXXX
Erica shut and locked the door of her bedroom behind her and then threw herself down on her bed, wiping her hand across her tearstained cheek.
It had been obvious that Kroenen hadn't believed her— hadn't believed the reason she gave for her study being such a wreck, hadn't believed that everything was alright, hadn't believed that she hadn't had a vision. She knew he was just concerned about her, but now that he knew something was wrong, she knew he'd be after her until he found out what was bothering her. She sighed and put her hands up to her throat, pulling her silver necklace out from under her shirt and looking at it. Kroenen had been so close to her in her study that she had been afraid he would see her cross necklace. She wasn't quite sure why she was afraid, she just knew she was, as if in some distant way she knew there would be severe consequences if someone found her wearing it. Fortunately the shirt and black jacket she wore as part of her uniform had hidden the necklace from view.
On impulse, Erica stood up from the bed and went into the bathroom where she splashed cold water on her face. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Kroenen was right, she thought, looking at her pale face, I do look like I'm sick.
She wandered back into her room and curled up on her bed, wrapping one of the soft, crimson blankets around her for comfort. By now her wave of emotion had given way to rational thinking and she needed time to sort out what had happened and what she would do.
Images from her vision kept running through her head. Actually, she wasn't sure if it really had been a vision, because she could completely control those. And then there was the matter of why it—whatever it was— had come at all. But did it really matter how or why? In her heart she knew that everything she had seen and heard was true. She also knew that there was no excuse for what she had done in the past. She was a murderer in every sense of the word. True, she had killed some people in self defense, but if she hadn't been a murderer, if she hadn't been helping the Occult to destroy the world, those people wouldn't have come after her to begin with.
I want to do something, anything to prevent more bloodshed, she thought, and if that's what the portal generator will cause, then I'll have to do something to stop it.
She froze, realizing what she had just done. She was actually contemplating betraying the Occult and the Nazis! And for someone in her position, it was an act of treason. She ran a hand through her long brown hair, staring up at the red canopy above her bed.
She knew the price the Ogdru Jahad demanded for a person's betrayal, and it was a dreadful price indeed. Erica had dealt with traitors before, like when she had poisoned Yohann Vasser, but what would be in store for her if she was caught would be far worse than the fate that had befallen him. Oh no, they wouldn't simply kill her. She had a very high rank in the Thule Occult Society and that meant that meant if she was caught, her life wouldn't simply be forfeit within the few seconds it took to shoot or stab her—no—if she was caught she would be ceremoniously sacrificed to the Ogdru Jahad, her blood spilled to appease their wrath. She knew it was a terrible way to die.
She shuddered and pulled the blanket closer around her, recalling what she had read in one of the most dangerous books in Kroenen's study. She could still recall the exact words, they were burned into her brain as if by a red hot branding iron: "…should a high ranking member betray the Occult, or be caught having the intentions of doing so, then it will fall upon the Head of the Thule Occult Society to appease the Ogdru Jahad by offering a sacrifice of the traitor's blood, and the traitor will be completely destroyed..."
Erica knew what that meant. As if it weren't bad enough to be ceremoniously killed, complete destruction went beyond death. If the ritual was preformed properly, the traitor's soul would be destroyed by the Ogdru Jahad. Needless to say, there had not been many high ranking members to betray the Occult, and the last betrayal was so long ago that no one could remember it clearly. Erica grimaced as the words from the book repeated themselves in her head. "…it will fall upon the Head of the Thule Occult Society to appease the Ogdru Jahad by offering a sacrifice of the traitor's blood, and the traitor will be completely destroyed..."
But that meant— assuming that she chose to betray the Occult and the Nazis—that meant Kroenen would be forced to sacrifice her if she was caught. Inwardly she squirmed at the thought. It would break his heart, she thought, No, it will break his heart, even if I'm not caught. He just won't believe that I'd really do it.
She knew that if she betrayed the Occult and the Nazis it would also mean betraying her friends. I don't want to fight Ilsa and Kroenen! she thought. No matter how angry she was or had been with them, that didn't mean they were her enemies. They were her friends! She didn't want to fight against them, but she also wanted to do what was right— She held her aching head in her hands. How could she betray Kroenen, he was like a father to her! He was her teacher and her dearest friend. Ilsa was her closest friend, second only to Kroenen! And Grigory— how could she even think of betraying her Master? How could she even consider betraying the Ogdru Jahad? The Occult?
She shook her head to clear her thoughts. She didn't have a choice, even friendship couldn't get in the way of doing what was right. She would have to betray her friends if she wanted to stop the Ogdru Jahad from being released. And Ilsa and Kroenen were her friends, so they would understand, wouldn't they? Stop being so naive! She scolded herself, Of course they won't understand! By the very act of trying to stop them I'm fighting against them, and if you're not with the Occult, then you're against it!
So that meant that Ilsa and Kroenen would fight her, and if necessary, kill her. For her part, Erica wasn't sure if she could force herself to hurt them. If they come after me, as they probably will, I won't harm them anymore than absolutely necessary, she decided. Wait—did that mean she was deciding to betray the Occult and the Nazis? No, no, she wouldn't do that! —would she? I don't know which side I'm on anymore, she thought, sighing. But she knew she would have to make a decision, she had to choose one or the other, she had to choose to either save or abandon her soul.
It came to this: She couldn't let the world be destroyed, and really, she had just betrayed the Occult by simply thinking about it. I might as well go all out, she thought, God, this is going to tear my heart in two...Alright, yes, I'll do it. It's more than worth risking my life to save my soul and the world.
She felt a sense of relief at having reached a decision, but just as quickly the tension returned. She would have to lay her plans carefully to prevent being caught. She had many advantages, she just had to figure out the best way to use them. First of all, she needed to figure out what she could do.
She knew she couldn't sabotage the portal generator before it was transported because it would be too hard to get into it by herself. The thick metal plates that covered the generator's exterior were so heavy that it took two people to lift them. She would never be able to do it by herself, and she couldn't trust anyone else to help her. Besides, anyone else would wonder what she was doing to the generator when it was supposed to be finished. So that meant she would have to wait until they arrived at the island off the coast of Scotland. But with all the Nazi soldiers and Generals that would be there, she wouldn't have a chance to sabotage the machine. That left her only one option, she would have to do something when the portal generator was actually running.
That cuts it close, she thought with a grimace, There'll be no room for error, I'll only have one chance before it's too late.
So she would have to destroy the portal generator while it was running. She had to destroy it because once the portal generator was started up, there was no safe way to just suddenly shut it down. After all, it wasn't designed to be stopped.
So then, how to destroy it?
She knew how the portal generator worked because she had helped to build it, which also meant that she knew the machine's weaknesses. But even with knowing how it worked, she wasn't sure she could destroy the portal generator without killing herself in the process. All the ways she could think of to destroy the generator had a ninety nine percent chance of making it explode violently, and the explosion would probably kill her because she'd have to be so close to the generator do something.
In the end, she decided that one of the best ways to destroy the portal generator was by setting off explosives, since when the generator was running it was particularly vulnerable to severe damage from external explosions. The other alternative was to shove something between the moving levers or spinning rings, which also happened to be an excellent way to lose a limb.
Beyond that, getting near the generator would be a problem. Once everyone realized what she was up to, she would have to keep the Nazi soldiers and Kroenen away from her, which wouldn't be an easy task.
Still, she thought, I have to try.
Of course, if she was shot and killed before she got anywhere near the generator, that wouldn't do anyone any good. She was instantly visited by a mental image of more than one hundred Nazi soldiers with their guns all pointed at her. She winced.
That won't work. I need someone or something to distract the Nazi soldiers, she thought I wish I had someone to help me, I can't do this alone. But who could she turn to for help? No one involved with the Occult or the Nazis would help her, or if they did, it was only so they could find out enough to turn her in, and anyone outside of the Occult or the Nazis would be so scared of her that they'd probably shoot her on sight.
What I need, she thought bitterly, is an army.
Then something seemed to click in her head, like puzzle pieces coming together. She knew where she could get an army: The Allied Forces. They would do almost anything if they thought it would give them the upper hand in the war against the Nazis.
I'll write a letter to the President of the United States, she thought, writing a letter is the only way, all the telegraph lines in and out of Nazi occupied countries are being monitored. I just hope one letter will be enough— I don't have time to be sending letters all over Europe. Besides, that would be more dangerous, word could get out and warn the Occult and the Nazis that there's a traitor in their midst, which would make it very hard for me to do anything to stop them.
Of course, she couldn't let the President know who she really was, she'd have to make up an identity. Otherwise, not only would the President recognize her name and suspect it of being a trap, his paranormal advisors would probably burn her letter to ash and then bury the ashes, fearing there might be a curse on the letter. Oh yes, she knew all about the President's paranormal advisors.
She stood up and crossed her room to a bookshelf that contained the overflow of books from her study. She selected a thick book, one that she knew was full of information on the Occult's enemies, and flipped through it until she came to the page she was looking for. It had photographs and information on all of the President's paranormal advisors, who in the past had occasionally made nuisances of themselves. She grinned as she realized the President's paranormal advisors probably had books on the Occult members, which meant she would have to be very careful when she wrote the letter so that she wouldn't give her true identity away. She skimmed the page, searching for the person most likely to be consulted when her letter arrived. There he was: Professor Trevor Broom. He'll know my letter is real if I provide the right details, she thought as she closed the book.
Getting the letter to America would be a slight problem, due to the short amount of time left, but she knew she could handle it. She would be creative, she wouldn't send it by the postal service. Anyway, she knew the German postal service wouldn't deliver a letter to America, especially if it was marked 'urgent'.
Erica put the book back on the shelf and then lay down on her bed. Tomorrow she would sort out how to get the letter to America. I just hope the troops come, she thought, I need the Allied troops to fight the Nazis, or I won't have a good chance of stopping the portal generator and surviving. She sighed, she didn't want to die—and wouldn't if she could help it.
Then something occurred to her. The worst weapon that could be used against her wasn't guns or bombs. Grigory would be there, which meant he could use her true name against her, stopping her in her tracks. I hope that doesn't happen, she thought, but if it does, as long as the Allied troops come, one of them could still stop the generator.
She closed her eyes and buried her face in one of the crimson pillows on her bed.
Betray the Occult.
She still couldn't believe she was even thinking about it. Wouldn't Rasputin know the moment the thought crossed her mind? How could she think it, let alone even seriously considering acting on it? It would be suicide, the sort of thought one would entertain if they no longer wanted to see tomorrow.
But can you live now that you know what you've really done? Asked a voice in her head, Can you live without repenting? Can you live knowing your soul will burn in Hell for eternity?
No, she thought with a sigh, no I can't.
Then you know what you must do.
Yes. Yes I do. God give me courage to find a way to stop this, she thought.
It was as simple as that. With that answer, with that decision, she had made the first move. Yes, she might be caught. Yes, she might die. But she would do everything in her power to prevent the Ogdru Jahad from being released. Just like when she played chess with Kroenen, she had made the first move.
She could only pray that when the Occult and the Nazis made their move, that they didn't have a clue as to what she was planning.
XXXXX
Erica hadn't even known she was tired, but she realized she must have fallen asleep, because she suddenly found herself sitting on the edge of the fountain in the dead garden. And lounging against the edge of the fountain was the Shadow Man, who appeared to be watching her intently, despite his obvious lack of eyes.
"What are you staring at?" she said, a little snappishly.
"Now, now, Acire, don't be rude," he said, "I'm just waiting for you to move one of your chess pieces—that is, if you even can."
Erica looked down. In front of her was a chessboard, and just like the last time she had been here, she only had a few pawns, and knight, and her king, all of which seemed to be blocked by the Shadow man's obsidian pieces.
"Finding it hard to make a move?" he asked, somehow managing to smirk.
"Why must people always gloat over the fact that they're winning?" Erica asked, scowling, "Now be quiet, I'm trying to think."
"Think? Oh yes, if I were you, I would be careful. After all, this is your last chance to turn this game around, and if you don't make the right move, I will immediately be the winner. And my prize will be your most precious treasure."
"Please be quiet." she asked again.
"Oh, I don't think you really want that. You see, I was just about to warn you that your time is nearly up."
With these words he gestured to the hourglass. The bottom was nearly full of black sand, while the top had less than four inches of white sand left, which was rapidly running downwards. Erica stared at the hourglass. It was right in the back of her mind, she almost knew what the hourglass signified—the Shadow Man spoke, interrupting her thoughts.
"And I warn you, you must make a move before the time runs out, or I will automatically win. And don't protest, for surely you must know that in the most dire of situations, in the most desperate of times, if someone fails to make a decision then their side will lose."
Erica stared hopelessly at the pieces on the chessboard, slowly turning the Shadow Man's words over in her mind and not really paying attention to the pieces on the board. What was the point? It wasn't like she could do anything. In the most dire of situations, in the most desperate of times, if someone fails to make a decision then their side will lose— Realization dawned on her. It was like her vision in the attic, hadn't the voice said 'If you fail to act all will be lost'? What if all it took for her to win was to simply look at the board with the intention of acting instead of giving up hope?
With renewed hope her eyes darted back to the chessboard, considering and searching out any moves that she might have missed. And there it was, the only move open to her! The Shadow Man was so confident in his ability to win that he had completely overlooked it, leaving one route to his king totally unguarded by his chess pieces. As soon as she spotted the move she took it, moving her marble knight to the square beside the obsidian king.
"Checkmate!" she declared triumphantly, knowing she had won.
"What? But—But how? It—It's impossible!" the Shadow Man spluttered, genuinely astonished.
And for the first time ever, Erica thought she detected a note of panic in his voice. But the Shadow Man quickly recovered himself.
"No matter," he declared, gesturing dismissively, "You may have won a game, but you haven't completely outwitted me. Your most precious treasure will still be mine! Your time has nearly run out!"
"Time? Time for what? I thought the hourglass was timing our game!" she exclaimed.
"Yes, it was and still is timing our game," the Shadow Man said, "but not just the chess game, it's been timing our game ever since it began, and that is farther back then you can even remember. And now, if you look, your hourglass is dangerously empty!"
He looked at the hourglass triumphantly, and then gave a strangled cry, making Erica's eyes fly over to the hourglass. The stream of falling sand was frozen!
"No!" the Shadow Man yelled.
Frozen? But how? And why did the Shadow Man say 'your hourglass'? Does that mean that somehow it's mine? She thought. And then she remembered something the Shadow Man had said about the hourglass: 'It is of great importance to you, and that is all that I will say, other than this: Beware of the moment when the white sand runs out!'
Beware of the moment when the sand runs out. But it's not running anymore, why did it stop? What happened right before we noticed the sand had frozen? I know! I won the chess game because I decided to act, just like the voice in my vision told me I would have to do if I wanted to save my soul from evil—Then she had the answer. It's not just any hourglass, she realized, the hourglass represents me! The white sand, which is almost gone, and has been running out as I've fallen further towards evil, represents the part of me that is good, and the black sand is the part of me that is evil. And if the white sand ever runs out completely, then he wins my most valuable treasure… Wait, that sounds familiar…I know! My most valuable treasure is my soul! He's trying to take my soul!
Having reached this startling realization, her grey eyes flicked over to where the Shadow Man was staring up at the hourglass and mumbling exclamations under his breath.
But why did the sand freeze? I know! By winning the game, by doing something to fight the Shadow Man, I've done something that opposes my evil actions in the past. And that made the hourglass freeze because I've reached a place where I have to decide either to lose or save my soul. I have to do something if I want to save myself from evil.
And as she thought that last sentence, she knew what she had to do. Erica looked at the Shadow Man, who was still staring at her, and then at the hourglass while muttering something inaudible.
"Do you remember a long time ago, when you told me that while we were here, in this garden, that we would call each other what we were?"
At her words the Shadow Man abruptly ceased talking to himself and became very still.
"Yes, what of it?" he said, his voice suddenly dangerous.
"You said that I could call you the Shadow Man. But very recently you also told me that I could call you what you are if I knew any of your other names."
"And do you?"
"Yes."
"Do you really," he said, his voice a deadly hiss.
"I do. I know what your true name is, just as you know mine. When you told me to call you the Shadow Man, the name only described your appearance, it wasn't what you really were, just as the name Erica isn't what I truly am."
"You're stalling," the Shadow Man said, thought he didn't hold much conviction in his voice, "If you really know my true name, tell me what it is."
"Your true name," Erica said, taking a deep breath, "Is Evil."
The Shadow Man staggered as if she had slapped him. Then he drew himself up and stalked over to her in a very threatening manner. He stopped less than two feet away from her.
"Clever girl," he hissed menacingly, looming threateningly over her, "You may know what I am, but what do you intend to do about it?"
"Something I should have done a long time ago," she replied, "I'm rejecting you."
"What did you say?" the Shadow Man said in disbelief.
"I said I'm rejecting you. I don't want anything to do with you! I won't serve you, I won't be a part of you! I'm going to fight against you with everything I have!"
As she spoke her voice grew progressively louder until her words were ringing loudly within the confines of the dead garden. In that moment, Erica felt more confident in herself than she ever had before. At her words, the shadows that made up the Shadow Man's face contorted in rage.
"How dare you! How dare you defy me!" he yelled, moving forward so that their faces were only inches apart, "Servants should be humble—servants that defy their Masters deserve to be punished!"
"You're not my Master!" she declared.
"Acire! How dare you! Bow to me Acire!"
Nothing happened. Erica continued to stand there, her hands on her hips. It was hard to tell who was the most surprised, the Shadow Man, or Erica, who had been dreading the moment he would use her true name against her. The Shadow Man looked at her, the shadows of his face contorting into an expression of fear. Then slowly, ever so slowly, he looked towards the huge hourglass floating in midair. Erica followed his gaze.
Both of them stood still, staring. The stream of sand was no longer frozen, but it was no longer pouring downwards either. It had reversed direction. The black sand was flowing up into the top of the hourglass, turning white as it went. Seeing this, the Shadow Man let loose a terrible shriek of rage as he turned on her.
"You snatch your soul back from me a few days from when it was to finally be mine!" he howled, "How dare you defy me!"
"Oh, I dare," she said triumphantly, staring unflinchingly up into his face, "Many people have fought and are fighting against you! And so will I! The future isn't written in stone, I can still change it! I will fight against you!"
"You wouldn't!" the Shadow Man hissed, "You wouldn't betray the Occult!"
"Yes, I would. I have one chance to fix my mistakes, and I will!"
"They'll kill you," he hissed, "Look."
He gestured to the surface of the black water in the basin of the fountain. Cautiously, she looked down at the water. Instead of seeing her own reflection, she saw lots of people standing in a very familiar black obsidian hall. Most of the people seemed to be spectators, as they stood in a crowd together. A short distance from the front of the crowd were four figures and a rectangular slab of black stone. Three of the figures were standing around the stone, but the forth was laying on top of it, secured in place by thick, wrought iron chains around her arms and legs. Erica gasped, recognizing the chained figure was herself! She watched in horror as a figure that was obviously Kroenen raised a long, silver bladed knife, and then viciously stabbed her. Erica turned away, no longer able to watch what was going on. The Shadow Man laughed harshly, a laugh that was completely mirthless.
"See what they'll do to you?" he hissed, his shadowy face smirking, "You can't tell me that it doesn't frighten you. If you stay with the Occult, you'll never have to worry about this happening to you."
"Some ideals are worth dying for," she said, "I would rather die than lose my soul to you!"
"We'll see about that," he said quietly, slowly backing away from her, "You may have rejected me for now, but you'll be back, I know you'll be back. You can never be completely rid of me—I am a part of you, as I am of every human being."
"I'll resist you."
"We shall see," he whispered, melting into the shadows beneath the twisted trees, "We shall see. Even if you don't come to me, I will come to you. Either way you can be sure that I'll be back."
"Is that a threat?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"No. It's a promise." he hissed.
Then he disappeared into the shadows, leaving her alone in the courtyard. Erica looked up at the hourglass. The black sand was turning white as it rushed upwards to the top of the hourglass. Then the hourglass began to fade, and she looked around in confusion. The entire garden was fading and dissolving into a white mist. Then it was gone, and the next thing she knew, she was awake, staring up at the crimson canopy above her bed. Erica smiled, her dreams were free of the Shadow Man at last!
But she knew the hardest part was still to come.
Author's Notes: So, what do you think about the Shadow Man? Did his true identity surprise you? Do her dreams involving him make more sense now? Also, you may have noticed that I decided to answer a question I've had for a while about just who it was that tipped off the Allied forces to show up! Make me extremely happy and review please!