THE SURPRISING SPIRIT

By Anthony Crute

The streetlights hummed silently outside on the street, casting their light across the streets of the city. They created light and, adversely, dark, which seemed so much darker because of the light. This was the way of the universe.

Jack moved through the light, casting his darkness across the floor as his shadow swept along behind him like some spectral stalker following his movements. He looked up to the end of the street; the house seemed to be the end. The house was the only thing he could see as if it rested on the edge of the universe and he was getting closer and closer. He dismissed the thought from his head; he was a rational man and he knew it was simply because the house was his destination that it weighed so heavily on his mind. He was a rational man…that is why what he had experienced that night and once before in his life had led him to this road again.

Sanctum Sanctorum

The holy of holies, thought Doctor Stephen Strange as he grounded his spirit to his physical body. It had been wandering the astral plane while his body rested in the centre of a large symbol surrounded by white candles created with wax and a magical dust; their effect rejuvenated his body and spirit.

He had just returned that morning from a journey across dimensional boundaries to aid a group of bedraggled elves whose kingdom had been overthrown by an ogre…it had been a quiet weekend, all things considered.

Downstairs

Jack pressed the doorbell with his thumb and waited quietly.

The heavy wooden door slowly opened and Jack turned, his gaze sliding downwards to the diminutive man. Sweat glistened on his forehead and his green robe hung open, revealing his immaculately toned physique, which spoke of his health. His wrists were wrapped in white tape, which, coupled with the sweat glistening forehead, told the man that he had interrupted a workout of some sort.

“I’m here to speak to Doctor Strange,” spoke Jack. His voice was strong and calm, unlike most of those who come seeking the aid of Doctor Strange.

Wong eyed the man for a second and nodded, ushering him inside. He had seen the man once before when Doctor Strange had helped him dispatch of a vengeful spirit.

“Remain here,” said Wong quietly. The words were half request and half order; despite his tiny stature, his manner conveyed the order with strength. “I shall return shortly,” Wong bowed slightly, turned on his heel and began to walk quickly up a twisted flight of steps, which lay before him.

Jack gazed around the foyer of the building he had just entered the room looked almost as large as the house did from the outside. The staircase the Asian man had just ascended was the most pertinent feature as it stood in the centre before splitting at 90-degree angles to head in separate directions across the room. Two hallways stood beneath the ‘wings’ of the stairs and were shrouded in darkness. There was a large arch on either side of Jack that led to other rooms in which he could see old style furniture in immaculate condition and yet more doors and hallways. The entire foyer seemed to be made of an off white to grey marble; the floor was filled with ornate patterns and symbols of black marble.

Jack inhaled for what seemed like the first time in hours and caught the scent of strange spices which made his head spin, he wobbled sideways before catching himself onto a large pillar which carried on to the ceiling. His hand slid behind the pillar and felt the cold touch of glass.

Jack moved around the pillar and looked through the window into the dark night; bats flitted about through the night. Jack suddenly leapt back as a small hand slammed into the window; the hand was green and had long twisted fingernails which scratched at the window as its hand banged hard on the glass.

“Frightful fellows aren’t they?” questioned a voice behind him. It was a calm and deep rich voice, which he recognized as only belonging to one man. Jack turned and ran his hand through his short black hair as he tried to centre himself before holding his hand out to the man known as Doctor Stephen Strange. His hair pitch black seemed even darker due to the strips of white that lay on his temples.

The Doctor was dressed in the blue tunic and black pants which he was wearing the time previously where he helped Jack and even possibly saved his life. He remembered his heart leap as the windows in the house flew open and in floated the man who now stood before him to dispatch the spirit who was plaguing his household. “You’re perfectly safe of course Jack, I have numerous protections from those who dwell in the darkness around my home,” the man flashed a smile which was surprisingly comforting.

“What is it?” Jack asked as he looked back at the goblin like creature who was now attempting to climb the window. He was a lot more relaxed than most would be in this situation. Its skin was a pale shade of green and its head bulbous and bald; its face was like a twisted minds interpretation of a human.

“Haven’t the foggiest my friend, so many subspecies of demons and such it’s impossible to keep track, one for every nightmare ever dreamt I was once told….and several more for every sin committed. I assure you you’re quite safe, 80% so in fact.”

“80%?” questioned Jack as he turned back to Dr Strange.

Strange smiled widely at the man “Well you can never be 100% sure of anything and I would be lying to say my protections have never been breached but even if that were to happen I doubt there would be much to fear from such a lowly specimen. He is not even able to cross over to this realm, we only see him through my specially treated glass. You could step outside and he could do no more than pass through you, happens all the time. Millions of the things running around New York City…well an adjacent dimension at least.”

Jack reeled slightly from the information that demons were real and were all over the city insubstantial and invisible. Dr Strange seemed to see Jack’s confusion and cut straight through it. “So what brings Detective Jack White to my Sanctum Sanctorum at this hour of night? There are no more personal problems with poltergeist I assume?”

Jack shook his head “I barely know where to start, my head is spinning.”

“Relax, I will try to make this as comfortable as possible,” Strange spoke as he closed his eyes and held out his hand. The Eye of Agamotto which hung around his neck activated and he molded its power of clear vision to allow him psychic powers, visions filled it as they were siphoned from the mind of Jack into his own.

Doctor Strange moved his hand from his amulet and breathed heavily for a second. “I understand why you have sought me out; I shall accompany you to the scene of the crime.”

Strange held out his hand causing a red cloak to fly to his hand, he moved it towards his back and released it causing it to move around his neck.

“You would like me to take you to a crime scene…dressed like that?” Jack White was a respectable police officer and whilst due to previous experience he believed in anything Doctor Strange told him or did there were many officers who would not like a ‘mystic’ trampling all over their crime scene.

Doctor Strange glanced down at his costume “I sometimes forget how different I am from how I used to be, I barely think of my dress as bizarre anymore,” he smiled weakly “I suppose it would not be so bad to accentuate the Doctor and diminish the Strange.”

Doctor Strange outstretched his hands and began to chant rhythmically in his mind. This was a matter of altering the perceptions of others to ensure while they may see him as a respectable doctor he could still hold his cloak and The Eye of Agamotto should they be needed.

< Jack blinked as there was a small flash and suddenly Strange stood before him dressed in a dark blue suit with a white shirt. He moved past Jack slowly and picked up a cane from the coat stand by the door. “I find it completes the look, would you agree?”

Jack nodded slowly, he had seen Strange banish a spook but this to him was still amazing. “I bet you wouldn’t make Captain America change would you?” Strange sighed and smiled gently “I’ll summon Wong with the car.”

The Crime Scene

Strange walked into the room, the door was badly damaged where it had been smashed in at some point. The body of a young woman lay in the centre of the room, police buzzed around taking photos and samples.

“The body hasn’t been touched since we….” Jack began to speak but was silenced by Doctor Strange who had raised his hand to silence him.

“I know, I saw the facts of this case when I touched your mind. The room completely locked, doors, windows…from the inside. The reports of a struggle came from neighbors. You had to kick the door down. Inside is where you found Angela Marh, known drug addict, simple overdose to which she had a bad reaction or a sudden change of heart would be the obvious answer if not for the hand marks around her throat…they’re too big to be her own.” Strange looked around the bare room which consisted of a bed a small kitchenette, a grey portable television, and a chair. There was a door in the back which led to the bathroom.

Doctor Strange walked around the room tapping his cane gently on the floor as he walked, unbeknownst to any onlookers his cloak of levitation billowed behind him as he walked. His senses were opening as he searched for mystic energies. He regarded the body on the floor for a second, her body deathly thin showing her cheekbones beneath her thin skin. Her hair was blonde and straggly; she had once obviously been a beautiful young woman, Doctor Strange felt a swell of pity.

“There is something Detective White, I am not quite sure of what it is but some magic was used to gain access to this room…one question comes to my mind, how did you know? Such a crime could have been committed in numerous ways…I myself can name several super villains and mutants who could have committed such a crime.”

“I know where you live, never met the X-Men,” smiled Jack.

“Here I am thinking I’m quite a recluse among the abnormal human community…now I find out that I’m better known than a minority extremist group who are on television every day being used as an example for and against mutants by the talking heads…will wonders ever cease?”

“So what’s your expert opinion Doc?” asked Jack as he watched Strange closely. Jack was one of the old kind of detectives; he was only in his early forties but had the manner of one of the detectives from a 70’s TV cop show.

“Magic is involved most certainly…I can sense a breach from the astral plane, anyone who can gain access to the astral plane will know instinctively how to move onto and off of it but someone has torn through the walls here, all force and no finesse…I’ve known Demons with more grace and respect.”

“What does that mean? If it’s not a demon, if it’s something worse what exactly are we dealing with?”

Strange grinned slightly, “I can’t help but feel I’m going to come off as extremely over dramatic here…a human.” Strange shrugged at Jack “Told you I would…this is most certainly a person, only a human would have this distinct lack of respect for the laws of magic, the only question is how they gained access to the plane? I must track them.”

“And how would you do that?”

“I must sit in my car and access the astral plane myself, a rip like this must first be healed and then I shall follow the tracks left, like footprints in the snow anything which could break through will leave an obvious set of tracks in such a plane of existence.”

Strange walked past Jack and motioned for him to follow which he did. The two men walked side by side down the smelly corridor passing open doors where neighbors leaned out and discussed what was going on.

“Doctor? I just gotta ask, you a religious man?” Jack seemed nervous as he asked. The two began to walk down the stairs.

“Yes, I am and before you ask yes Christianity, well as much as any other hot shot surgeon could be. Yourself?” Strange turned and raised his eyebrow at Jack, such questions were often prelude to others.

“No, while I believe in something I wouldn’t say I’m religious, religions seem to have a problem with my boyfriend and I,” Jack sighed.

“Ah,” nodded Strange, the information came as a surprise to him “I’ve read many holy books and never seen either of your names mentioned,” he smiled gently.

The two exited the building and climbed into the back of doctor Strange’s car. “I just don’t know how you do it all?” questioned Jack. Doctor Strange was silent.

“He has slipped from this realm,” informed Wong from the driver’s seat “now we must wait.”

The Astral Plane

. Stephen Strange floated upwards, the glamour of his suit gone as his mental form took control and moved swiftly to the apartment he had just left.

The astral plane is much like our own world, you can see the world we inhabit clearly and the people who move around in it but those who travel it can traverse great distances with but a thought as the rules of the universe are more flexible.

Doctor Strange hovered for a couple of seconds watching the police buzzing in the room before he turned to the task at hand. He closed his eyes, extended his hands and began to exert his will upon the rift.

A sharp pain suddenly ripped down the back of Strange dropping him to his knees. His head slowly rose to see the second lunge of his attacker and he rolled sideways and to his ‘feet’ to avoid it.

Strange watched the wraith move slowly as it prepared to attack again. The wraith was a black shrouded shape with blade like arms which hovered gently before him. The wraiths of the astral plane are lost souls, souls who resided on the plane to long or those innately gifted who have slipped here in their sleep and became trapped. They are souls without bodies or ghosts without a purpose and they seek any chance to pass to the mortal realm. That random shiver down your spine is an attempt to take your body and that is all they are, a child can shrug off their attacks. Stephen Strange is the sorcerer supreme and he is far more powerful than a child, with little more than a thought he sent the spirit into the light.

He took a few extra seconds to ensure the rip was closed and then set off following the trail which he had correctly guessed would be there.

The mists which shrouded the astral plane gently had been ripped up and twirled in the path of the killer. He could follow the path with his eyes closed simply by feeling the ‘runs’ in the dimension like laddering in a pair of tights.

Strange drifted through walls as he moved as the crow flies following the path of the killer who had obviously wasted little time in fleeing the crime scene even though they must have known they were untouchable.

Doctor Strange’s head jerked sideways as he sensed another trail, he glanced around and followed both trails as far as his mind could before returning to his astral body. The killer had either been very busy in his astral projections or there was a number of powerful novices trekking across the plane.

The killers trail extended for several blocks through buildings until it stopped in a small apartment not much unlike the one where the killing had taken place. The second Strange entered the room he knew he had found the killer.

The energy from the young man’s body was giving off a lot of heat as he writhed in pain. He was shabbily dressed and was barely anything but skin and bone, the tracks in his arms attested to the fact he too was a drug addict.

The boy’s eyes suddenly snapped open and Strange found himself hurled backwards. “Who are you?” screamed the young man, his voice taking on a haunting dualness about it as if two separate people were speaking.

Doctor Strange lashed back with his powers striking the man and driving his spirit through the wall before dragging it back with the power of the Crimson bands of Cyttorak. The pale pink energy extended from his wrists and wrapped the man dragging him back inside where it held the struggling frame tightly.

Strange looked at the boy closely and examined him magically before reeling back in shock “By the Mystic Moons of Munnopor!” he cried.

The lad was like nothing he had ever seen, when someone passes onto the astral plane they leave their body behind and travel only in essence, part of them but this lad had somehow converted his entire body into astral energy, hence the great power he wielded.

The boy outstretched his arms and cast off the bands of Cytorakk as his arms begin to shift and change into scythes much like those of a Wraith and he charged forward slashing at Strange.

This was not the first astral battle Doctor Stephen Strange had been in and he knew how to handle himself. He dropped back to a knee as a large shield formed before him as the scythes scraped against it. Strange gritted his teeth and pushed forward, the shield shrunk and change to armor on his arm as he kept the blades pushed above his head. His other arm changed into a similarly armored fist and slammed into the boy knocking him back.

The boy was quickly hovering in front of Strange, he took a deep breath and screamed, flows of energy exploded towards Strange blasting him back for a few seconds until he began to release a counter attack.

The two struggled against each other exerting their power over one another with their full might. Ordinarily in such a battle Strange would have had the decided upper hand due to his innate power and training but this was the essence of a man versus a man and the lad lashed out with such anger and fury it was managing to beat strange back but this was making the boy weaken.

The lad fell backwards to the floor, Strange slowly moved into the mindscape of the lad.

“Who are you?” asked Strange, his arms folded tightly with a stern look upon his face.

“Who the hell are you?” spat back the lad, with a grimace.

Strange narrowed his eyes and muttered a small chant, the boy prepared to shout but no noise was emitted from his lips. “I have silenced you, you may not speak but to answer my questions, who are you?” he reasserted with more force.

“Mark…Mark Hyde,” said the lad. He tried to speak again but was still mute.

“You have intruded upon the astral plane and damaged it, you have killed this night. I sense you have nothing innately magical about you so you will tell me why and how and then my police friend will be by to pick you up. You will not run and you will not hide because I will find you as easily as I find my own hands and by god I will make you sorry for your crimes…SPEAK!”

“She had it coming, I ghosted there and she was on the phone to the police. She was telling them everything about him, I couldn’t let her. I got angry and suddenly I had hands again and I choked that bitch out,” spat Mark.

“Telling them everything about whom?” asked Strange.

Mark was silent.

“Tell me,” hissed Strange as he exerted some of his power “tell me or I will force it out of you.”

Mark remained silent and Strange nodded, he had heard earlier that Jack had kicked the young girls door open and what he was about to do was very similar. People made it too easy, if they wanted to protect a secret in their mind they’d lock it in a box or behind a door which made it that much easier to find and from then all you had to do was raise your foot and give it a good kicking.

One hour later

Strange had sent White to the address of Mark Hyde, the finger prints on her throat would match to his would match up and that’s all that would be needed. It wouldn’t matter how he got in the room as long as they could prove he was.

Strange had immediately commanded Wong to move the vehicle to the address provided by Mark’s mind and it was there they stood outside the back entrance to a shop which sold all types of ‘mystical’ trinkets…all for tourists obviously. It was not the usual place you expect to find a drug dealer. Rats skittered about their feet running through the filth of New York City unafraid of the humans who they may bother, the two moved towards the door.

Wong handled the door with one kick in the right place completely removing it from its hinges. The store seemed to consist of the front of store and this office come storeroom which had a door leading to an alley.

A large black man sat at the desk, he raised his eyes to the door but that was it. Smoke curled from his mouth as if he exhaled cigar smoke but no cigars could be seen. He wore golden rings across all his fingers and had even a small glint of the precious metal in his grin.

“You are the one who is selling Ghost? The ‘Houngan’?” questioned Strange already knowing the answer. Wong stood silently ready for any physical action his friend and partner may need. Ghost as Strange had learned was a new drug which offered users ‘the trip of a life time’. In reality it transformed corporeal bodies into spiritual ones and allowed the users the chance to see across several dimensional boundaries at one. The second part was standard in a lot of recreational drugs such as LSD but the first part was most dangerous.

“Yes that would be me, secret family recipe. All the way from Africa, ancient tribal medicine and stuff.” Houngan stopped and stared up and down Doctor Strange. “Who in hell are you? You are not the usual sort we get in here but I aim to please all clients”, spoke Houngan in his deep gravelly voice.

“I have not come to buy; I’ve come to put a stop to you. What you’re doing is wrong…”

“There is nothing illegal about what I’m doing. There is no ban or legislation against my magic powders is there?” A slick smile spread across Houngan’s face. “I don’t even think you have the power to stop me if you wanted to…do you old man?” Houngan stood up and slowly unbuttoned his white jacket. Doctor Strange held a hand out to stay Wong’s attack.

“No I suppose there is anything illegal not any law of man at least, merely wrong on a moral stand point…something I’m sure you would know nothing about…I am here to put a stop to it.” Strange’s voice became louder and deeper as he spoke and moved forward, Wong shadowed him.

“And you would be who? The magic police?”

“Whilst I have never made such a claim…it is a fair assessment. I am the Sorcerer Supreme and I shall decide whatever rules I think will protect this plane and any other I see fit. You have put several in danger!”

“What exactly do you propose to do about it? Look my friend, I do nothing but provide a service. There are those who will buy my wears without the proper knowledge of how to use them or without the strength of will, they do stupid things or they get trapped on the astral plane and wind up becoming wraiths. I can’t be held responsible for a bunch of weakling idiots who if they can’t escape deserve nothing more than to rot in some hovel while their spirit wanders endlessly.” the gravelly voice mocked Strange almost daring him to act.

Strange smiled gently at Houngan. “I am the magic police! I am Judge! Jury! and Executioner! You have committed heinous crimes and have killed who knows how many misguided young spirits…but by any number of gods to whom I swear fealty it ends now!” He began to chant…

Houngan wobbled slightly and took a final deep breath before his head slammed down onto the table causing the furniture to shake. Wong calmly walked over to the man and began to drag him away.

Hours later

Doctor Stephen Strange sat in his study as Bach played on his old gramophone; he stared into space for a few seconds before looking down at his new paperweight. Like a fly trapped in amber the man lay eyes closed staring up at Strange through his own eyelids.

Strange followed suit and closed his eyes as he slipped gently onto the astral plane. He hovered upwards away from his body and out of his home, his home was protected from all intruders and so he wasn’t surprised to find a Wraith waiting outside, its blade slashing wildly at the building but unable to pass.

The Wraith looked up at him for a second, smoke drifted from its mouth as it raised its gold ringed scythes and growled through teeth with glints of gold. It looked like a cat about to pounce when suddenly its head tilted sideways as if listening to some long off sound.

Strange watched as it quickly hovered away, randomly dashing and dodging like terrified mouse. Strange watched as several Wraiths dove past him from the cloud cover which was their hunting ground and dove after the golden Wraith.

The poor souls he had trapped on this plane had sought him out and were hunting him down. Wraiths never sleep, Wraiths never tire, and neither he nor the poor lost souls would ever stop. They would chase him throughout this plane for all existence until they caught him and extracted their revenge. Only then would their poor souls rest.

His own words echoed in the sorcerers mind as the ghosts vanished beyond his perception.

“I am Judge, Jury and Executioner!” he paused as more of his own words entered his head “I am the Sorcerer Supreme and I shall decide whatever rules I think will protect this plane and any other I see fit!”

“Highest authority there is…Judge! Jury! And Executioner!” he spoke aloud quietly.