Shadow : Part 4

*** Chapter Eleven

The Change

Upon awakening, it took Blake some time to realize that he was in his bed. His eyes stung from the light, even though it was dim. He still felt a lingering numbness in his hands and feet. It seemed almost impossible to rise into a sitting position, but he managed. Blake expected Nathan to be there, anxiously waiting for him to wake up, but he was not.

What the hell happened here? Blake looked at the clock on the night stand adjacent to his bed…almost midnight. How long have I been out?
Blake could only remember fragments of what happened earlier. He recalled coming home, his brief argument with Russell outside of the apartment. Was that asshole really here, or did I just imagine that? He also recalled going inside, and up the staircase…after that, Blake’s recollection faltered.

It took forever for Blake to get out of bed. Once standing, he thought he might collapse to the floor. His knees buckled and he had to hold on to the bed to keep from falling. He closed his eyes trying to settle the dizziness that swirled through him like a tornado.
Nate, where are you?
Blake waited for a reply but did not get one.

Suddenly, for no apparent reason at all, Blake thought of Kyle, the boy he had met earlier that day at the gym. He remembered seeing Kyle in the shower, the way the water made his smooth, taut body shimmer, the way Blake’s dick hardened as he admired Kyle’s perfect ass. That image lingered in Blake’s mind before finally vanishing to nothingness.
Blake felt like a man three times his age as he ambled to the door and stepped out of his bedroom and into the hallway. The overhead hallway light was on and it burned Blake’s eyes. He had the feeling that something bad happened here, but he could not remember what exactly. As he moved closer to the staircase, that negative sensation intensified, but he still had no recollection of it.

Down below, in the living room, Blake heard voices: Justin and Nathan’s. From the high, animated pitch in their voices, Blake knew they were arguing.
“What if I got killed?” Justin demanded. “Or Ryan?”
“You weren't gonna get killed,” Nathan replied.
“That’s `cause we managed to get outta here before the shit really popped off. Dude, what the hell did you bring into this house?”
“Justin, why are you blaming everything on me as if I’m the reason?”
Both Justin and Nathan stopped talking as Blake stepped down the staircase and entered the living room. Nathan’s face rapidly switched from anger to surprise.

“Blake, you’re awake," Nathan marveled.
Blake nodded, holding on to the edge of the staircase railing for support. His vision was a bit hazy as he looked back and forth between the two who were standing a few feet away from each other. “What are you talking about?”
“You should probably go back to sleep, Blake,” Nathan urged.
“What happened to you?” Justin asked. “You look like shit.”
“I don’t know,” Blake answered.
“It attacked you,” Nathan grimly answered. “I told you to stay downstairs and you didn’t listen to me. You came upstairs and it attacked you.”

The silence in the room was a like a fourth entity.
“How did it attack him?” Justin asked; his voice thickly coated with fear. “Ghosts can’t attack people.”

Nathan inhaled deeply. “First of all, it wasn’t a ghost. We call it a Shadow. And when I say ‘attack’, I don’t mean a physical attack. I mean a psychic attack.”
“What’s the difference between a physical attack and a psychic attack?” Justin asked.
“Attacking someone's mind is much worse than attacking someone's body,” Nathan explained. "Sometimes the wounds never heal."

Blake and Nathan shared eye contact for a few moments.
“What do you mean by ‘you call it’?” Justin questioned.

It was crazy how one little word could change the course of a conversation. “Me and my brother, Caleb,” Nathan finally answered, after a deliberate pause. “That’s what we called it…it's a physical projection of psychic energy. It’s almost like an astral projection.”
“You never told me about any of this,” Blake said
“I didn’t think I would have to.”
Justin scoffed. “Well, you just put us all into a position where this information would’ve been useful and you didn’t. And now one of us got ‘attacked’ because of it. Fuck this, I need a drink.” Justin stalked off to the kitchen leaving Blake, Nathan, and the awkward silence between them alone.

“Is it still in the house?” Blake eventually asked.
“There's imprints of energy still in the house,” Nathan said.
“But where's the actual thing?” Blake pressed. "In me?"
“…Yeah.”

Blake gripped the staircase railing tighter. “What the fuck is it gonna do to me?”
“I don’t know…yet.”
“Russell’s got something to do with this shit, right? I didn’t make up that part that he was here.”
“Yeah, he was here. He left a little while ago.”
“Why was he here?”

“Russell called me last night and told me his boyfriend went missing. He wanted my help, to see if I could find out what happened to him. I went to his apartment earlier tonight to see if I could find any clues to what happened. I was able to pick up on a few things…Russell was taking me home when Justin called to tell me that there was something in the house.”
Blake’s face was strangely calm throughout Nathan’s explanation. His eyes bore into Nathan’s with an intensity that left Nathan feeling a bit unnerved. The most disturbing part of all though, was that he could not read Blake’s thoughts. He tried to sift through the barriers of Blake’s mind, but it seemed as if a steel wall had been put up, blocking any psychic access.

“Blake, isn’t that the dumbest shit you ever heard?” Justin asked. He strolled back into the living room, holding a glass filled nearly to the brim with his favorite alcoholic concoction: Hennessey and Coke. His face was still tense with bitterness.
“This weird shit is in our home because Nate’s out there trying to find the dude that his ex-boyfriend dumped him for?” He chugged half the glass in a few seconds.
“You lied when you told me you were home earlier,” Blake said. “You were with him the whole time.” A sharp pain flared across his skull.
“Blake, if I told you that I was with him…why I was with him today, you wouldn’t have understood.”
“You’re absolutely right about that, Nate. I wouldn’t have. But you still should’ve told me.”
“How much is Russell paying you to find his boyfriend?” Justin demanded, adding heavy emphasis on ‘boyfriend’.
“He’s not paying me.”

“Oh, hell no!” Justin screeched. “Are you fuckin serious?” He finished his drink and hurriedly went back into the kitchen to refill it.
Blake sauntered past Nathan and plopped on the couch. “You weren’t gonna tell me about this. You were gonna keep it a secret.”
“No…that’s not true. I mean, all of this happened so fast…I just got the call from him last night, Blake.”
“Why do you need to get involved in this, Nate? If something really happened to Russell’s boyfriend, he should be going to the police, not to you.”
“This is not something the police could help with.”

“And you thought you were gonna be able to find this guy by yourself? Do you even know if the dude is alive or dead?”
“I think he’s still alive. I just don’t know if he’s hurt somewhere, or if he’s still in the area, or anything like that. I only got a little information from Russell’s room.”
That fiery rage reappeared in Blake’s eyes when Nathan mentioned Russell’s bedroom. “You were in his room?”
“Yeah…that’s where Andrew was when he got attacked…”Blake closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands.

“Justin brought up a good point,” he said after a minute. “If Russell’s not paying you, then why are you doing this? You gotta have some sort of motivation to get involved in this shit.”
“It’s because he’s hoping this will be his way of getting back with the asshole,” Justin declared, leaning against the kitchen doorframe. “Nate, you’re not really that interested in finding where this dude is. You just wanna fuck Russell, so he can screw you over like he did before.

And then me and Blake are gonna have to be the ones to pick up the pieces when he drops your ass to the curb—again.”
Nathan flipped Justin the middle finger. “Shut your drunk, dramatic-ass up, Justin. You don't know what you're talking about.”
Justin flung his drink to the floor, spilling the brown liquid all over the carpet. “Fuck you, Nate. For a fuckin whole year, we’ve have to hear and see you mope around and complain about him and the moment he calls you and asks you to do some off the wall shit that nobody in their right mind would agree to do, you do it, all for a dude that probably didn’t like you too much to begin with.”

“That’s a really fucked up thing to say, Justin,” Nathan replied.

“Well, you wanna what’s really fucked up, Nate?” Justin asked. He pointed to Blake. “He actually likes you. He actually cares about you. But you don’t care about him. So many dudes would line up around the block to be with Blake—hell, me included, but all he sees is you. All he wants is you and you don't even care.”
Justin marched across the living room, bumping past Nathan as he stomped up the staircase. “I’m going to bed.”

Tears formed at the corners of Nathan’s eyes and he felt incredibly small and embarrassed. He looked at Blake who sat speechless and expressionless on the couch. There was nothing that they could say to each other after that.
Blake slowly rose from the couch. “I need to go back to bed. I’m tired.”
Nathan reached for Blake’s hand. “I can help you upstairs to your room if you want.”

Blake looked at Nathan’s hand, but did not accept it. “No, I'm cool. I can do it on my own.” He walked away from Nathan, trudging up the staircase to his bedroom.
Nathan waited until he heard Blake’s bedroom door close before he moved. His eyes centered on the brown stain Justin’s drink left on the carpet. It still looked wet. Nathan walked into the kitchen and grabbed a damp dishtowel from the sink. Returning to the living room, Nathan continued his effort not to cry. Yet as he vigorously scrubbed the carpet, his silent tears fell to the floor, mixing in with the stain, which Nathan knew, as hard and long as he tried to clean it, would probably never go away entirely. There would always be a trace.

***

Justin hoped it had all been a dream.
The sunlight coming through his window burned his eyes as he opened them. His head ached, his throat dry, and his stomach grumbled horrifically. He checked the clock next to his bed: a quarter past ten in the morning.
How long I been sleep?
After his argument with Nathan, Justin remembered going upstairs to his room. He sent Ryan a text message, saying:

Sorry bout what happened last nite. Didn’t mean 4 none of that to happen. Pls txt me in the mornin so I know ur alrite.

But when Justin checked his cell phone, he saw that Ryan had not replied to his message.
Maybe he’s still asleep…that’s why he hasn’t called me back yet...Though for Justin, there was a more logical conclusion: Maybe he just doesn’t want to be bothered with me anymore.
What other outcome could there be in an occurrence as crazy and terrifying as the one the night before? It would be idiotic to think that someone like Ryan, who had most likely never experienced anything paranormal before in his life, would be able to accept something like that—particularly a life threatening situation.

Although Justin and Ryan had not been together for a long time, and while their relationship could not be fully classified as deep and intimate, it pained Justin that they would not have a chance for an intimate relationship. Last night killed any chance of that.
Justin considered sending Ryan another text, but decided against it, predominately because he could think of really nothing to say. Besides, he would see him at work in a few hours. Hopefully by then he would be able to think of something meaningful and convincing to say.
Maybe I should call in sick today.

That would have been a good idea, but it was Friday, and Justin needed to go pick up his paycheck. He remained in bed for another fifteen minutes, too lazy to get up, but too alert to go back to sleep. Every time Justin closed his eyes, memories of yesterday’s calamity tumbled around his head. He recalled the bitter things he had said to Nathan. Although he did stand by his comments, he did feel some remorse.
Justin mulled over whether he should go to Nathan’s room and apologize, when he remembered that it was past ten o’ clock. Nathan would have already been at work by now.
What about Blake?

Blake did not start his bartending job until six that evening. Justin wondered if Blake would even have the strength to even go to work, given what happened to him. Justin crawled out of bed, dressed only in a pair of basketball shorts and a baggy tank top and stepped out of his bedroom.

As he walked out into the hallway on his way to Blake’s room, Justin had more flashbacks of the prior night. He felt that same chill, that same strange tension in the air he experienced before. Nathan had said it was an imprint or whatever he called it. For all Justin knew, this Shadow could still be in the apartment, watching him right now, waiting for the right time to attack.
Something grabbed Justin’s shoulder from behind.

Justin shrieked and whirled around. He had expected to see the shadowy figure standing behind him, but what he saw was more bizarre than he expected.
Blake stood before him, fully naked, hulking over Justin, and still as a statue. His threatening stare made Justin feel more than uncomfortable. Justin tried not to gawk at the beauty of Blake’s body: his hard pecs, the stunningly perfect abs—the giant dick, which looked semi-erect, but it was almost impossible.

“Um…what are you doing?” Justin asked, not wanting to stare directly into Blake’s eyes because it scared him a bit, but not wanting to look down either.
“Going to the bathroom,” Blake responded. His voice sounded cold, almost robotic.
“Oh…I was just about to head to your room.” Justin took a step backward.
“For what?” Blake took a step forward.
“To uh, check up on you.”
“Why?”

Justin’s heartbeat began to quicken. “Because of what happened last night.”
Blake narrowed his eyes. “What happened last night?”
“I don’t know…I just um…I—”
“You look nervous, Justin. I’m not making you nervous am I?”
“Um, to be honest, yeah you are. You should probably put on some clothes.”
“Why?”
“`Cause your dick is distracting me.”

Blake gave his penis a tug. “Why?”
Justin wanted to go back into his room, but he would have to go past Blake to do so. “Something’s wrong with you. I should go call Nate.”
“Fuck Nate.” It was the first thing Blake said that seemed to have any kind of emotion behind it. “That’s what you said last night, right?”
“I didn’t mean it.”

“Yeah, you did. You meant all of it. You’re right. He doesn’t give a fuck about me. He’s more interested in that dumb fuck, Russell. There’s no reason I should give a fuck about him.”
“Blake, he does care about you. I was just saying that `cause I was angry and buzzed.”
“Too late. Doesn’t matter now.”
“What are you talking about?”

Blake grabbed Justin by the back of the head and kissed him, rough and hard. With his other hand, Blake slipped into the back of Justin’s shorts, squeezing his ass, fingering his asshole. Justin, totally not anticipating the gesture, did not know how to respond initially. He never envisioned a sexual encounter between him and Blake ever coming into fruition. He conceded long ago to the idea that Blake was only attracted to Nathan and never to him.
But this was not Blake.

Justin managed to break away from Blake’s hold. “What the hell are you doing?”

“This is what you want,” Blake whispered. “I know it. I’ve seen it in your mind a million times. You think about sucking my dick. About riding it. About me fuckin you until your eyes roll back and your toes pop and I bust my nut inside this sexy ass of yours. I’d be a liar if I said never thought about sneaking into your room when Nathan went to sleep, ripping your underwear off and pound your ass until you were sore. Let’s do it now.” Blake moved in again, but Justin recoiled.
“Back up, Blake. I’m serious. I don’t wanna have to hurt you.”

Blake laughed. “Hurt me? You?”
“Yeah. I’ll send you flying down the stairs if you don’t back up.”
“Try it. You’re not even strong enough to push me a foot.”

“Fuck you.” Justin felt the psychic energy swell in his mind. He focused the energy on Blake’s solar plexus and released it. Blake stumbled backward a few inches, almost tripping over his feet, but it was just enough for Justin to get past him and back into his room where he slammed the door shut. There was no lock on the door, so Justin had to keep it closed mentally, but that drained too much of his energy. He expected Blake to try and get through the door, but Justin heard only silence on the other side of the door. He listened for a minute or two before slowly opening the door and looking out into the hallway. It was empty.

To be continued... Email me at Mikeskbooker at gmail dot com for more info on how to get the full book. Thanks!