The Shadow Stealer

“So she cut off her toes...”
“Eww!” Emily let her charges exclaim their disgust before carrying on with the story. But before she could, the lights in the house across the street went out.
Vera, the eight year old, jerked her head up.
“Emily,” John, her ten year old brother whispered.
Emily shushed him, feeling the air. The best part about having the innate understanding of how all magic worked was being able to recognize the magical gifts around her, even when they couldn’t be seen. And there it was, like a shadow in her peripheral vision, a presence, a darkness unlike any other light and dark magic she had felt before.
“Guys,” she said, keeping her voice as quiet and steady as possible, “hide.”
The children scattered. She was almost surprised Vera didn’t scream. But they had to stay silent.
Emily hurried through the house, turning off lights and shutting curtains as she went. She dove into one of the rooms and shut the door without a sound. She stood with her back against it, trying to calm her screaming brain. She listened for clicks, footsteps, anything that gave away the presence. She surveyed the room, but the presence wasn’t there yet. She was in Mr. and Mrs. Davidson’s bedroom. She lifted up the bedskirt and swore. The bed was packed with boxes underneath. She danced around the room, swearing more. Her mind ran father than her body.

Emily froze in front of the closet and rolled her eyes. A floorboard creaked down the hall. Emily wrenched the closet door open and took a deep breath. Then, she grabbed the shelf at eye level and hoisted herself up. She swore again as she almost slipped, but at last she got herself into the empty nook on the top shelf. She supposed there was something convenient about being only five foot six. Just before she got her left foot up, Emily caught it on the door handle and pulled the door shut. As an added thought, she groped down to the shelf below her and pulled out a blanket, which she threw over herself. It was none too soon, for Emily heard the door of the room click open and tried to breathe as slow as possible as she felt the presence move into the room. Emily closed her eyes and waited, trying to decide if she could hear the footsteps or if she was imagining them. The closet door never opened. The presence left the room, but it was still in the house.

Emily’s heart beat faster. She strained her ears for the faint sound of screaming. Where were John and Vera? What if the presence got them? How would she explain to their parents? But no screams came, and some time long after her foot fell asleep and her body ached, the presence disappeared. Carefully, Emily climbed down and opened the door. She slipped through the house without turning on the lights. She stepped through the kitchen and heard a cupboard door bang shut. Emily screamed, but the figure coming out of the cupboard was Vera.

“Is it gone?” Vera asked, sniffling.

Emily reached out and hugged the girl. “I think so.”

Emily usually paused at the doorway to the classroom before entering. Classes about magic made her nervous, as she already knew the material. But today, she ignored the class and walked right into Professor Daye’s office on the other side of the room.

“Hi Professor Daye,” she said, collapsing into a chair. He had been standing in his doorway, ready to start the morning class, but now he looked from his class to his teaching assistant.

“Emily, are you... I have to teach,” he muttered, and left the office, closing the door behind him. Emily stared at the wall as she listened to the muffled instructions he gave his class.

Emily liked Professor Daye. He had spent years studying the knowledge she had been born with, and it was nice to know someone who understood what she said. And he cared about his students.

The door opened and Professor Daye came in again. “Okay Emily, what happened?”

Emily turned to him. Her palms lay flat on the desk. She didn’t bother brushing her overlong bangs from her eyes. “I babysat for the Davidsons last night,” she said, “the shadow stealer came.” Her head dropped back to the desk.

After class, Emily told her friends, Knight and Krysta, about what had happened.

“I’m so glad it didn’t find you,” Krysta said, wrapping her arm around Emily’s shoulders and steering her through the hall and out to the courtyard.

“I’m glad it didn’t get the kids,” Emily said as they sat on one of the stone benches aligned in a pentagon around a flower garden. Emily was not surprised Krysta had brought her here. It was where they had met when they were seven, and the colors of the flowers usually comforted them both.

“At least you wouldn’t have to worry about babysitting anymore,” Knight said. Knight was only sixteen, so he had no business taking Professor Daye’s class with Krysta, but had gotten a slot due to academic excellence. Despite his intelligence, Emily thought he was rather immature. He stood nearby as he adjusted his oversized green scarf, until one side hung down to his waist and the other to his ankles. He was oblivious to Emily’s glares.

“I think I just need to get my mind off of it,” Emily muttered, leaning against Krysta.

But Krysta pushed her off and put her hand in the pocket of her coat, which perfectly matched the frilly purple dress she wore. “I almost forgot, look what I found last night. I thought I had lost this.”

“What is it?” Knight asked, and then jumped backwards as Krysta produced a prism, which Emily had given her for her birthday ten years before. “Whoa, keep that way from me.” Knight said.

“What did I do?” Krysta continued to watch Knight. He backed away and tripped over his scarf, falling into a tree in the middle of the garden.

Emily crossed her arms over her chest. “Nothing. Knight’s just being nervous, and rightfully so.”

“What’s wrong?” Krysta tried to put the offending object back in her pocket, but Emily grabbed it from her.

She brandished the prism about until it caught the light and sent rainbows toward Knight, who winced. “This,” she said, “refracts light. Knight is a light mage. If his magic got caught in it, he would be refracted into a thousand tiny pieces.” Emily handed the prism back to Krysta, who hid it in her pocket.

Knight stood up and pulled bark out of his scarf. “That’s why you shouldn’t go waving that thing around in front of me.”

Emily shrugged. “If you had been using magic, I would have seen it. Light magic was the first type I learned to recognize.”

Krysta tugged on a strand of her auburn hair, “May I ask... how do you... how do you deal with that? I mean, something so ordinary being able to... to kill you?”

Emily spoke before Knight could. “Don’t use magic around it. You’d be surprised how many mages have ordinary weaknesses.”

It had been eight months since the shadow stealer killed the first person in town, and Emily was frustrated she couldn’t think of a way to destroy it. Some days, she stopped by Professor Daye’s office and talked to him about the presence.

“I don’t understand,” she combed her fingers through her chin-length hair. “I understand what is is. I can recognize its magic with my own. But I can’t figure out what its weakness is.”

Professor Daye played with the end of his orange necktie--the sign he was a professor at Knights Academy. “I think you aren’t being patient enough,” he said.

Emily spun around once in her swivel chair. “Isn’t the point of this gift not having to bother with all the studying you had to do?” It occured to her that if she were Krysta, she would have apologized, but instead, she rambled on. “I mean, what’s the point of having ninety-nine percent of the all knowledge of magic when the one percent you don’t have is most pertinent?” She crossed her arms and slumped further into her chair.

Professor Daye shuffled papers on his desk that didn’t need shuffling. “I just mean, we don’t even know what it looks like.”

“Yes we do.” Krysta had walked into the room. She was unusually rickety in her high heels. Emily stood up so Krysta could take her seat, but she didn’t. Knight poked his head in from around the doorway and eyed the chair.
“I saw the shadow stealer last night.” Krysta said.
Emily sat down again. “You what?” Emily had felt the presence, but people who saw the shadow stealer, at least those who got a good look at it, never lived to tell the tale.
Krysta’s hazel eyes were so wide they seemed to take up half her face. “I was walking home through one of the gardens last night,” she said, referring to the many gardens around Knights Academy, “and I saw this... this tattered... shadow... or maybe it was a piece of cloth blowing in the wind. And there was this woman staring at it. Then this... this hand appeared out of the shadow. It was like... I don’t know... glowing, but not very bright, and it grabbed her shadow, picked it up off the path, and wrapped itself inside like... like it was a curtain. And she screamed. And it was like... like claws shredding her, even though the thing never touched her.” Emily stood up and this time Krysta did take the seat. She continued with her story. “I gasped or something. Because it to me. And it was this... this person, with shimmery skin and black ratty hair, and it stared at me, like it knew I was there, but wouldn’t see me. And I didn’t move. And it looked right at me and then... and then it left.”
“Okay, you are not normal!” Emily shouted.
“It’s possible the shadow stealer couldn’t discern her shadow from the others around it,” Professor Daye suggested, “they usually have trouble capturing shadows with no apparent forms.”
“Wait,” Knight came all the way into the doorway. “There are multiple shadow stealers?”
Emily paced the three feet of space available to her. “of course, if you know the stories...” She turned to face Krysta, ready to announce she was preparing to move in with her, for safety’s sake, but she stopped before she got started. Her grey-green eyes flew back and forth, like she was reading a book. Then she grabbed Krysta by the ruffles on her blouse. “That’s it! This thing is out of a children’s story. We need the light of Viseah.”
Professor Daye sat up straight. “Of course.”
“A light?” Knight asked, “Emily, this thing kills people by eating their shadows. I don’t think a light is going to help.”
“Trust Emily,” Professor Daye said he stood and grabbed his coat.
“Viseah was a wise man who once killed a shadow stealer using a very special light he found in Calador.”
“Calador?” Knight asked, “the home of the god of imagination?”
Krysta jumped to her feet. “Are we going?”
“We are going tonight,” Professor Daye said. “Meet me at the river. I’ll have everything you need. Emily, you can run today’s class, right? The lesson plans are on the desk.” He swept out of the room.
The three students found Professor Daye at the river with a puke-green rowboat that gave the impression of being made out of newspaper.
“Are you sure about this?” Krysta asked.
“Absolutely,” Emily told her and gave her a shove toward the boat. She was glad she had convinced Krysta to change into pants and flat shoes. “We float down the river, and by morning, we’ll be in Calador.”
“I don’t know,” Knight said, but climbed into the boat as he said it. “I’ve been down this river before. We’re basing this on just a children’s story.”
“In my line of work,” Emily said, “there is no such thing as just a children’s story.” She helped Professor Daye push the boat into the water and they climbed in. For a while, they argued some more about whether Emily’s plan would work or whether the boat would sink, or whether it would rain, but the boat didn’t sink, and soon the rocking put them all to sleep.
Emily opened her eyes to a bright blue sky filled with birds. All around her she heard chirps and caws and jabbers. She tilted her head back and above the edge of the boat, she saw a cliff with so many birds, it looked like it was made up of feathers. Emily jerked up. “We’re here.” The other three were already sitting up in the boat, which was stuck on a sandbar.
Knight looked toward the cliff. “And where exactly is here?”
“The island of birds,” Emily told him.
“And how are we supposed to get up there?” Krysta asked.
“Well, usually by flying...” Emily said.
Knight groaned.
“Hey,” Emily retorted, “you didn’t even believe we’d get here.”
“I don’t believe what I can’t see,” Knight countered.
Emily crossed her arms and blew her bangs out of her face. “Well, I don’t have to see it to know it’s real.”
A caw interrupted their bicker session. A little white bird had landed on the side of the boat by Knight.
“Hello,” Emily spoke in the language of the gods. Her fluency had come with her magical gift. “That great crow up there isn’t too happy with us, is he?”
“Emily, are you talking to it?” Knight said, “it’s a bird.”
“And birds can’t speak the language?” Emily and the birds asked in unison, although only Emily understood what it said.
“Don’t listen to him,” Emily told the bird, “what is it you have to tell us?”
The bird moved its skin so is feathers rippled. “He wants to know why you are here. Not many people come to the island of birds. Usually you must be able to fly. Only Pete has ever come your way.”
“Our land is being haunted by a strange monster,” Emily said, “we come seeking the light of Viseah.”
“Come with me,” the bird said, “my name is Timothy. I will speak to the old crow on your behalf.” He led them in a half circle around the island to where the water met the shore. It took them half the day to climb up to the other side, however. High on the cliff, the could see the edges of the central island, thick with trees.
“Why are the sparkling?” Asked Knight.
“Fairies,” Professor Daye explained, “they live all over the island.”
Knight looked at Emily and mouthed “talking birds and fairies?”
Krysta giggled.
The sun was setting by the time the old crow would see them. Apparently, the cliff edge served as a sentry post and a meeting place for the bird council. Timothy told the old crow of their plight and their quest for the light of Viseah.