Shadowfires. By: Dean R. Koontz

Rachael could see virtually everything either directly or in the mirrors

covering one wall, gray tile with a burntyellow border, big sunken tub,

shower stall, toilet, one edge of the counter that held the sinks,

bright brass towel racks and brass-rimmed recessed ceiling lamps.

The bathroom appeared deserted. However, when she crossed the

threshold, she heard someone’s quick, panicked breathing, and her own

heartbeat, already trotting, raced.

Close behind her, Benny said, “What’s wrong?”

She pointed to the opaque shower stall. The glass was so heavily

frosted that nothing could be seen of the person on the other side, not

even a tenebrous form. “Somebody’s in there.”

Benny leaned forward, listening.

Rachael had backed against the wall, the muzzle of the thirty-two aimed

at the shower door.

“Better come out of there,” Benny said to the person in the stall.

No answer. Just quick, thin wheezing.

“Better come out right now,” Benny said.

“Come out, damn you!” Rachael said, her raised voice echoing harshly

off the gray tile and the bright mirrors.

From the stall came an unexpectedly woeful mewling that was the very

essence of terror. It sounded like a child.

Shocked, concerned, but still wary, Rachael edged toward the frosted

glass.

Benny stepped past her, took hold of the brass handle, and pulled the

door open. Oh, my God.”

Rachael saw a nude girl huddled pathetically on the tile floor of the

shadowy stall, her back pressed into the corner. She looked no older

than fifteen or sixteen and must be the current mistress in residence,

the latestand lastf Eric’s pitiable “conquests.” Her slender arms were

crossed over her breasts more in fear and self-defense than in modesty.

She was trembling uncontrollably, and her eyes were wide with terror,

and her face was pale, sickly, waxen.

She was probably quite pretty, but it was difficult to tell for sure,

not because of the gloominess of the enclosed shower stall but because

she had been badly beaten. Her right eye was blackened and beginning to

swell. Another ugly bruise was forming on her right cheek, from the

corner of the eye all the way down to the jaw. Her upper lip had been

split, blood still oozed from it, and blood covered her chin. There

were bruises on her arms as well, and a big one on her left thigh.

Benny turned away, clearly as embarrassed for the girl as he was alarmed

by her condition.

Lowering her pistol, stooping at the shower door, Rachael said, “Who did

this to you, honey? Who did this?” She already knew what the answer

must be, dreaded hearing it, but was morbidly compelled to ask the

question.

The girl could not respond. Her bleeding lips moved, and she tried to

form words, but all that came out was that thin grievous whining, broken

into chords by an especially violent siege of the shivers. Even if she

had spoken, she would most likely not have answered the question, for

she was obviously in shock and to some degree disassociated from

reality. She seemed only partially aware of Rachael and Benny, with the

larger part of her attention focused on some private horror. She met

Rachael’s eyes but didn’t really seem to see her.

Rachael reached into the stall with one hand. “Honey, it’s all right.

Everything’s all right. No one’s going to hurt you anymore. You can

come out now. We won’t let anyone hurt you anymore.”

The girl stared through Rachael, murmuring softly but urgently to

herself, shaken by a wind of fear that blew through some grim inner

landscape in which she seemed trapped.

Rachael handed her gun to Benny. She stepped into the big shower stall

and knelt beside the girl, speaking softly and reassuringly to her,

touching her gently on the face and arms, smoothing her tangled blond

hair. At the first few touches, the girl flinched as if she’d been

struck, though the contact briefly broke her trance. She looked at

Rachael for a moment instead of through her, and she allowed herself to

be coaxed to her feet and out of the shadowy stall, though by the time

she crossed the sill of the shower into the bathroom, she was already

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