For as long as Deidre could remember, she had always been cursed with the talent of wandering. Perhaps she first noticed it at the age of four, when she opened her bedroom door in the middle of the night and, instead of finding herself in the upstairs hallway of her childhood home, she found herself in the kitchen downstairs. She distinctly recalled opening the door to the back patio at five and, in place of the lush backyard with the jungle gym her father built for her, she was across the way in the neighbor’s kiddie pool.
The first time this ability soured was when she was six years old and little Deidre had made it to the door to the bank before her mother. She opened the door, ran inside, and glanced around at the various artifacts on display. It was not until a security guard found her and ushered her outside that she realized she had been transported to the museum on the other side of the city. It took a couple of hours for her parents to locate her with the help of the police, but when Deidre tried to explain what had happened, none of the adults believed her. How could they? When a person opens a door, they do not typically find themselves transported far away. They find themselves on the other side of that door. Even so, Deidre was finally able to convince her parents after opening the door to the bathroom and revealing to them the inside of a bank vault. Mortified by their daughter’s strange ability, Deidre’s parents resigned themselves to opening every door for her, and leaving some doors (such as to their bedroom and the bathrooms) open so that she would not be transported elsewhere.
As the years passed, her ability only made things more difficult. Deidre learned to stall, to wait for someone else to open a door for her, which led to a few awkward experiences in school. At one point during middle school, she was trapped in the bathroom with no one there to open the door for her, making her tardy to class. Fed up with this strange ability of hers, Deidre decided then and there that, so long as she had her smartphone with her, she would always be able to find her way back home.
So she opened the door to the bathroom, and on the other side found herself in a dilapidated home. The walls were caked with filth and graffiti, the carpet stained a greyish black, and the scent of stale urine filled the air. Disgusted, she pulled out her smartphone and discovered she was in an abandoned home several blocks away from her house. She could have easily exited the neglected dwelling if only the front door had not been shut. With a sigh, Deidre unlocked the door, opened it, and stepped into the bedroom of a teenage boy. She guessed as much firstly due to the posters and torn-out magazine pages of half-naked women on the walls, and secondly because a boy who appeared to be in high school lounged across the king-sized bed, reading a thick volume.
She had emerged from his closet.
“Hey!” he demanded, jumping to his feet. His dark wavy hair threatened to fall over his decadent brown eyes, which were glaring at the young intruder. “Who the hell are you? How’d you get in here?”
“I-I’m sorry!” she insisted, her hands raised in surrender. She immediately spun around, closed the closet behind her, and reopened it. “I’ll go now.”
“Hey, get the hell out of my closet!” The older teen shouted, closing the distance between them. He was too late, however; Deidre had managed to close the door behind her before he could yank it open and pull her out.
Deidre came to regret that decision, because the next room she found herself in was the most horrific.
Blood stained the concrete floor and walls. Tables lined either side of the room, covered with what she could only hope was offal. And across the way, turning around to study her was the tallest, most muscular man she had ever seen. His rubber gloves were wet with fresh blood, and his brown hair was slicked back with sweat and who knows what else. It took her a second to realize that he was gazing at her, not through spectacles or a helmet, but through a mask made from another person’s face. In his right fist he carried a rusty cleaver.
Deidre’s thoughts flew back to the news that played over the radio station that morning on her way to school. A broadcast warning women and children to not travel unaccompanied for fear that they might become the Face Stealer’s next prey.
She barely had time to think as he turned to face her. Deidre spun back around, closed the door, then reopened it to the main room of what she could only describe as a brothel. Women sporting lingerie were hanging all over older men, younger men, men who were balding, men who were overweight, men who were thin as a rail…
Only, she did not shut the door behind her in time.
A middle-aged woman in the midst of strolling paused to regard Deidre with a puzzling look. “How the hell did you get in here? This is no place for a kid!”
Deidre blew past her, headed straight for the front door. It was as her fingers wrapped around the doorknob that she heard behind her:
“And who the hell are—OH MY GOD—!”
The Face Stealer had followed Deidre into the den of sin, and he hacked his way through the crowd, causing an uproar as everyone began to swarm around Deidre and reach for the doorknob. Somehow, Deidre’s small hand was pushed aside, and an older man with a receding hairline fumbled with the doorknob until he managed to get it open. Deidre was pushed forward with the screaming crowd; she forced her legs to move, to flee at any cost.
A door, she told herself. I need to find another door!
The brothel was on the outskirts of downtown; she recognized the neighboring apartment complexes, motels, and bodegas. She ran for the nearest bodega, only for someone to open the door for her. Deidre backed away and continued further down the street to the apartment complex. Its door was propped open by a rubber stopper. Damn it!
Running out of options, Deidre hopped down the steps to the apartment complex and glanced back the way she came. The Face Stealer was ignoring everyone else, and instead making a bee line for her, bloody cleaver still in hand.
Deidre spun around, eager for a door, any door. She spied a pawn shop across the way and ran across the street, dodging traffic. The Face Stealer stalked after her without a care in the world; cars came to a screeching halt in order to avoid hitting him.
As soon as Deidre reached the pawn shop, she yanked the door open and vaulted into what she could only describe as a police station. Officers and detectives sat at metal desks, typing up reports and filing away papers.
Deidre turned to shut the door when a meaty hand reached in and held the door open. The Face Stealer crouched down in order to enter the door frame, forcing her to step backward until she collided with a metal desk.
“Hey, kid, what the hell are you—OH SHIT!” The detective jumped to his feet and pulled his gun from its holster, an action that the rest of the precinct mimicked succinctly. The detective shoved Deidre behind him and aimed his pistol at the Face Stealer’s head. “Put your hands up where I can see them! Don’t make me shoot—”
The Face Stealer let out a wet grunt, then brought his cleaver down onto the detective’s shoulder. Blood splattered on Deidre’s face as she backed away further.
It wasn’t until the entire precinct opened fire against the masked assailant that Deidre took off in search of a door, any door. She found an empty interrogation room and opened the door, grateful to find a familiar setting inside. She barrelled through the opening and steadied herself as she shut the door behind her, getting her bearings. Deidre was in the hallway back at school, and she was tardy for class.
With a huff, she wiped her face and meandered the halls until she made it to her classroom, the door already shut. She stifled a sigh as she pounded on the door until her teacher opened it for her with a cross expression.
“The door was unlocked, you know,” she grumbled. “And you’re late. Find your seat.”
Deidre marched over to her seat and slunk into it as the weight of her adventures caught up with her. She explored an abandoned house, barged in on a teenage boy’s privacy, and paraded a serial murderer through a brothel and downtown before delivering him to the hands of the police. She had experienced enough excitement to last a lifetime.
I hope I never have to go through something like that ever again.
It would be a while before Deidre and her parents uncover a secret; if Deidre’s hands are covered, then she cannot teleport through a door. With this discovery in mind, Deidre began wearing gloves everywhere she went, without fear of turning up somewhere she shouldn’t.
Several years would pass before Deidre would tell another soul her secret; her first boyfriend, Robin. He demanded a test run as proof, pressuring Deidre to open his bathroom door with her ungloved hand to reveal the inside of a cabin on a cruise ship. Blown away by her ability, Robin convinced Deidre to close and open the door several more times, allowing him to step in and plunder the homes and businesses they were let into, stealing jewelry and cash. At one point, Robin came across a drug dealer’s den, with a glass coffee table covered in money and drugs already divided into little baggies. Though hesitant, Deidre got high with Robin, who swore to her he would sell most of the drugs. Before they knew it, they had gone through the stash in a matter of days. Eager for another taste, Deidre and Robin began robbing unsuspecting individuals and families on a regular basis, selling off the jewelry and raising enough funds to feed their growing habit. Deidre dropped out of college, having lost all interest in much else.
Six months in, Robin was no longer willing to rob others and sent Deidre to burglarize on his behalf. During one such run, she was caught in a drug den by a dealer who threatened her with a knife. Horrified, Deidre rushed back through the door to Robin’s apartment, the dealer hot on her tail. She heard Robin and the dealer get into a scuffle as she decided then and there she had had enough, and she walked out the front door without putting on her gloves first.
Deidre found herself in a familiar bedroom, only instead of half-naked women taped to the walls, she found art and portraits hanging in frames.
“It’s you.”
She spun around to find the teenage boy from years before, now a grown man. His dark hair was a little shorter, somewhat more manageable, and his chocolate gaze bore into hers.
“I always wondered if I would ever see you again,” he mused, stepping closer.
Deidre backed away, shutting the closet door behind her. She was about to open it again when he raised a hand. “Wait, please don’t go yet. I want to talk to you.”
“Let me guess,” sighed Deidre. “You want to use my ability to steal from others? Been there, done that, not gonna happen.”
The corner of his mouth twitched upward as he pocketed his hands in his slacks. “I don’t need to steal. I want you on my security team. Name your price.”
Deidre frowned. “Security?”
“You’re the same girl who barged in here years ago, right?” he asked. “The girl who appeared at the precinct with the Face Stealer. I could use someone of your talents, and you look like you could use the money. Am I wrong?”
Deidre reached up and began scratching at her arm. Her skin was itching from the inside out. “I want a hundred thousand a year. And I need a pair of gloves.”
“Deal.” The man held out his hand, which Deidre took hesitantly. “What’s your name?”
“Deidre. Yours?”
The man scoffed as he held onto her hand. “You don’t know who I am?”
“Would I have asked your name otherwise?” asked Deidre, tugging her hand from his grasp.
He pursed his lips. “Salvatore,” he finally revealed. “Salvatore Venuto.”
Deidre’s eyes widened. The Venuto crime family was notorious for running all the narcotics and racketeering in their region. And Salvatore Venuto is the head of the family.
Salvatore grunted at her expression. “Looks like you realized who I am. There’s no going back on your word, so don’t even think about running.”
She arched a brow at him. “Are you threatening me?”
He lifted his chin, peering down his nose at her. “Yes.”
Then he strolled over to the bedroom door and opened it for her. “Let me show you where you’ll be staying.”
After an hour or so of Salvatore’s guided tour of the family estate, Deidre was shown to her suite and provided with a pair of black silk gloves. “You have your own bathroom, and a closet full of my sister’s old clothes. Make sure you shower and use the clothes provided, someone should.”
As Deidre gazed around the opulent room, Salvatore added, “I’ll have the family physician come and check on you soon.”
Deidre froze at that. The doctor would undoubtedly be able to tell that she was going through withdrawals. Would Salvatore still want her if he knew about her weakness? Or would he simply exploit her weakness, as Robin had?
She did not hear when Salvatore closed the door, nor did she realize how long she was standing in place, staring at nothing in particular. It wasn’t until a knock was heard that Deidre let out a sigh.
Then she spun around and opened the door.
Thanks for reading!
Sisters of the Shadows 
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