Face Behind the Mask

by Leo King

  “Yes, indeed,” Ouellette said. “His fat ass was a terrible spy, but he was pretty solid at following my instructions. I had him tracking the Knight Priory’s plans for the city.”

  “There was no way I could have known that.” Now Aucoin felt bad about tormenting Landry in his final moments.

  “Yes, well, that’s because, unlike everyone else in this city, I can keep a secret, and I play my hand close to my chest.”

  “Jesus, Commander. What’s going on here?”

  Once more, Ouellette leaned forward. “An ugly game that people have been playing for decades, one you don’t need to be involved with. Now get going and forget about Landry. And watch your ass the next few weeks. Like I said, I can’t help you if the Knight Priory wants you removed.”

  Without another word, Aucoin left. This was unbelievable. He took a few months off from the world, and everything went crazy.

  When he got back to his desk, he and Rivette were the only people on the floor. Rivette was scribbling in his notepad with all the secrecy of a child cheating on a test. Aucoin was about to head over to him when his pager went off. It was his house.

  Cathy! He detoured back to his desk and called.

  She picked up after two rings. “Hello? Kyle?”

  “Hey, Cathy. What brings you, um, home?”

  With a gentle laugh, she said, “Well, I needed to pick up some clothes from the attic. And I thought we could have dinner. My treat.”

  Despite everything he had been through lately, he liked that idea. It would give him a chance to mentally re-center before trying to track down the silver pen. “Sounds great. Where to?”

  She hummed happily. “Let’s go to Antoine’s.”

  He couldn’t help but smile. That’s where he had proposed to her. “Sounds wonderful, hun.”

  “Great! I’ll see you there at six?”

  “Six sounds perfect. See you then.”

  He had just hung up the phone when a uniformed officer ran in, out of breath. “Detectives! Commander! You’ve got to see the news, now!”

  As Ouellette came out of his office, the officer turned on the television. A newscaster was seated at the studio with the headline “Vigilante Riots Downtown” at the bottom of the screen.

  “Reports keep coming in,” the newscaster said, “but it seems that there’s been an unprecedented number of vigilante attacks. So far, we have twenty-six confirmed deaths. Sources in the field indicate that each of the victims were wanted killers, rapists, or other violent criminals. Each death is being caused by different groups of a dozen or more individuals who have been reported as being crazed, unresponsive, and with heavily dilated pupils.”

  Someone handed the newscaster a piece of paper.

  “OK, I am now being told that the death toll has spiked to fifty-three. Both Orleans and Jefferson Parish are being affected. The police are urging citizens to stay home and lock their doors. The mayor has reached out to the governor to request assistance from the National Guard.”

  Ouellette turned off the television. He was sweating profusely. “Goddamn it. I am sick and tired of the damn news finding out about these things before we do. They are not, I repeat, not supposed to be first responders.”

  He exhaled deeply. “I did not need this.”

  Then he paced back and forth a bit and then said, “We’re so badly understaffed, all we can do is damage control.”

  Aucoin was also sweating. He knew what was causing this nightmare. “Sir, it’s the—”

  Holding out his hand, Ouellette said, “Give me a second.”

  Then he turned to the officer. “Lenny, get all available persons in the precinct assembled. I’ll call the mayor and ask where he wants us. Get everyone in here. We don’t have time to fuck around.”

  The officer nodded and ran off. Ouellette then turned to Aucoin. “Now, what is it?”

  “Sir, it’s the silver pen, the pen Vincent Castille used to record his murders. Look, this will sound insane, but his ghost is using that pen to somehow control voodoo spirits, loa.”

  He half-expected Ouellette to glare at him, call him crazy, and tell him to get his act together. Instead, he just frowned. “She was trying to tell me that months ago. Damn it.”

  It didn’t take long to figure out who he was talking about. “Sir, do you mean Sam?”

  “Yes. Damn it. I need to think this over. Give me a minute.” He headed back into his office.

  Aucoin returned to his desk. He was gathering his belongings and getting ready to call Cathy when Rivette sat down across from him, pale as death.

  “Kyle. I need to talk to you.”

  “Not now, Scott. We have an emergency.” Aucoin dialed his home. The phone rang.

  Without a word, Rivette took out a small notepad and the silver pen. He showed what was written:

  Cathy was alone in Kyle’s house when a pair of rioters broke in and strangled her to death

  The story was complete except for the final period at the end.

  Aucoin’s heart pounded in his throat, and he clenched his jaw tightly.

  “Hello? Hello, Kyle?” Cathy had picked up.

  Rivette’s lips were quivering. “I think you should talk to me, Kyle. Vincent’s not going to wait.” Then he moved the tip of the pen toward where the period should go. “You know that if I do this, the ritual will complete and it’ll actually happen.”

  “Kyle? Is that you? What’s going on?” Cathy sounded concerned.

  “I love you, honey,” Aucoin said and hung up. He focused all of his attention on Rivette. “It was you. You killed Landry.”

  “And the others,” Rivette said. “Everyone who’s died in the past few hours.” He was sweating. He looked sick, and his hands shook.

  “Why?” Aucoin could barely speak. He could try to grab the pen, but if he messed up and Rivette touched the pen to that page, Cathy would die.

  All Rivette could do was titter anxiously. “This pen is fucked up. It summoned me to it. I felt compelled to break into your glove compartment and steal it. And Vincent started talking to me, promising me I could make a difference.”

  That was something Aucoin knew all too well. “So then what happened?” He had to keep him talking until the pen was no longer almost touching the page.

  Tears formed in the corners of Rivette’s eyes. “I found out that Landry was betraying us. I was so angry. Everything that we’ve dealt with—children getting orphaned, violent crime going up—and then his fat ass is a turncoat. I just snapped. So I… I…”

  “You wrote about his death, right?”

  “And once I started, I couldn’t stop. I just wrote down every horrible thing I’d been holding inside.”

  Again, this was something Aucoin knew all too well. “The pen is like a drug. You think you’re controlling it, but it’s controlling you.”

  Rivette was loosening up. Aucoin was almost ready.

  Rivette’s hands continued to shake. “I can’t stop. I… I must be weak. God, Kyle, he’s so powerful. So insanely powerful. He terrifies me. He’s already influencing everything I do.”

  “I know, Scott. I know. OK. I’m going to take the pen from you. Just stay still.”

  Flinching away, Rivette said, “He’s mad at you. Real mad. Right now, he’s telling me to kill Cathy.”

  Aucoin grabbed for the pen, but Rivette pulled it away.

  “Rivette, stop. This is not funny.” Aucoin reached for it again.

  Sliding farther away, Rivette’s eyes rolled back and his eyelids fluttered. Then his voice deepened. “My strength grows. Look at what I can do now. You could have had this power, Detective. You shouldn’t have opposed me. This is your punishment.”

  Hearing that voice made Aucoin stumbled back. “Vincent? Vincent, stop this!”

  But Rivette’s eyes had already returned to normal. Backing up, almost tripping on the other desks, his hands started moving as if against his will, placing the tip of the pen back at the end of the sentence. “I’m sorry, Kyle. I’m
so sorry. I can’t stop. I’m too weak to resist. Forgive me.”

  Aucoin slowly stood. “Scott, please don’t do this.”

  “He’s too strong.”

  “Scott, you need to fight it.” Carefully, he unfastened his gun.

  “Please, Kyle, forgive me.”

  In one motion, he pointed the gun at Rivette’s chest. “I said stop!”

  The door to Ouellette’s office burst open. He came out at the same moment that every officer in the precinct arrived. Everyone focused on Aucoin and Rivette.

  “Aucoin! What the hell!”

  The officers drew out their weapons and pointed them at Aucoin. Ouellette held out his hands and approached slowly. “Aucoin. Rivette. What’s going on?”

  Keeping his eyes on Rivette, Aucoin said, “Sir, Scott has the pen. He’s written down that Cathy dies. All he has to do is end the sentence, and it will happen.”

  “Is that true, Rivette?”

  “Y-yes, sir.”

  Ouellette looked between them. “Aucoin, put your gun down. Rivette, put down the pen.”

  “I can’t, sir,” they both said at once.

  “Vincent’s possessing me,” Rivette added. “I can’t fight it.”

  Ouellette grimaced. “It doesn’t need to end that way. Kyle, put down your gun. Scott, I’m going to come behind and restrain you.” It was the first time in years he had used their first names.

  “I’m trying to fight him, sir, but he’s going to make me do it.” Tears ran down Rivette’s face.

  Aucoin cocked the hammer back. “For God’s sake, Scott, stop. I will not let you kill my wife.”

  Ouellette shouted, his voice reverberating, “Put down the gun, Kyle!”

  His finger on the trigger, Aucoin trembled. “Please, Scott, fight him. I don’t want to kill you.”

  Now Ouellette was halfway to Rivette. “For mercy’s sake, Kyle, stop it. There is no going back from this.”

  Rivette continue to weep, his hands shaking and then steadying, then shaking again. Each time, the tip of the pen got closer and closer to where it would finish the deadly sentence. “I can’t fight him. He’s got me, and he won’t let go. Please, Kyle, don’t let me do this. I beg you. Please kill me before I hurt anyone else.”

  And then Rivette’s hand suddenly grew still. His eyes then fluttered back again. Almost in slow motion, he moved the pen right toward the page. Vincent had won control.

  “No!” Ouellette rushed toward him.

  Aucoin felt cold. He knew Ouellette wouldn’t make it in time. Every moment he and Cathy had spent together bled into a collage of memories, sweet and bitter. And then, clear as a bell, her voice resonated in his mind: “When it really matters, you’ll be a shield that protects the ones you love.”

  He closed his eyes. She would survive. That was enough.

  “I love you, Cathy.”

  Aucoin pulled the trigger. And as he emptied his gun, bullets tore into him.

  Aucoin’s Epilogue

  A Good Cop

  Date: Thursday, April 1st, 1993

  Time: 12:00 p.m.

  Location: Tulane University Hospital

  Downtown New Orleans

  The coldness of the hospital room bit at Aucoin’s skin, and the blanket hardly helped. Handcuffed to the bed with an IV in one arm, he lay there, staring into space. His body ached from the dozens of places where he had been shot. He still couldn’t believe he had survived. The doctors had even said it was the devil’s luck that none of the bullets had struck vital points.

  Aucoin wasn’t sure what to believe.

  “You’re awake. Good.” It was Ouellette, wearing his commander’s uniform. He stood by the bed, pity on his face. “I just got back from Rivette’s funeral.”

  “Here to fire me, then?” Aucoin asked weakly.

  Ouellette’s expression remained stern. “Among other things. You’re in a very unique kind of trouble. The powers that be think you know too much and want to make you disappear.”

  “Know too much? That’s funny.” It was hard to speak. Every word was labored and painful. Then he asked, “Did you know that Connick is in the Knight Priory?”

  When Ouellette didn’t say anything, Aucoin rolled his eyes. “Fine. Keep your secrets. Can you at least tell me if Cathy will be kept safe?”

  “Yes. As per your plea agreement, she’s been taken into the witness protection program. She’s far away from here. She won’t be dying from any home invasions anytime soon.”

  Aucoin exhaled with relief. He hadn’t even been allowed to see her one more time. But at least she’d live. “And Dixie?”

  “She’s fine. She’s the mother of a beautiful baby girl named Felicia. And she’ll be moving up to New York where the Knight Priory can’t touch her.”

  “And the riots?”

  “Over. You killing Rivette ended them. Without a human’s will behind the pen, Vincent’s influence isn’t as strong. But that won’t last. A storm is coming, and it’s only a matter of time before he doesn’t need it anymore.”

  “Is the pen destroyed?”

  Shaking his head, Ouellette said, “The Knight Priory has it, which is bad for everyone. Fortunately, they gave it to someone who is completely incompetent, which gives us a chance.”

  “Us?”

  Silence.

  “Commander, who are you?”

  With a sigh, Ouellette said, “Someone who has been trying to keep the new Knight Priory in check for years. I, and others who are struggling to keep this storm from coming, want to stop them before they kill millions. And that’s all you need to know.”

  It would have to be enough. “So what happens to me now?”

  “You’re going someplace from which you’ll never return. They are going to do terrible things to you. I’m sorry. Your life will suck until they end it.”

  Aucoin didn’t feel a hint of fear or anxiety. He’d figured as much. “And you can’t help me?”

  Ouellette shook his head. “I told you that if you ran afoul of the Knight Priory, I wouldn’t be able to help. I am sorry, Kyle.” He turned to leave.

  He was at the door when Aucoin called out. “Sir!”

  Although Ouellette stopped, he didn’t look back. “Yes?”

  Weakly, Aucoin asked, “Am… am I a good cop?”

  Now Ouellette turned around. For the first time ever, he smiled—slightly, but genuinely.

  “One of the best I’ve ever known.”

  Then he left without another word.

  Lying back, Aucoin closed his eyes and waited for either sleep or death to come for him. Nurses came in to check on him, and police came to make sure he was secure. But no one spoke to him, and when the lights finally went out, he was completely alone.

  “So this is how my life ends,” he said to himself. “You know, I just don’t care.”

  “You should,” a voice whispered.

  Aucoin opened his eyes. The white orb from before was floating over his bed.

  A month ago, he would have freaked out. Now he just asked, “So what the hell are you supposed to be?”

  “You need to care,” it whispered. “She needs you. Help her, please.”

  “What? Who needs me? Cathy?”

  “No. Sam…”

  “Sam? What do you mean? What—”

  But then Aucoin realized whose voice was coming from the orb.

  “Rodger?”

  The white orb then vanished like mist, leaving him alone in the room once more. He laid his head back and started laughing.

  “Me help Sam? What good can I possibly do?”

  Chapter 22

  Worthy of Hating

  Date: Sunday May 2, 1993

  Time: 7:00 p.m.

  Location: Evergreen Sanatorium

  Isolation Chamber

  Sam was cold to the point where she couldn’t think straight, and there was no escaping it. The freezing water bit deeply, deadening all sensation of life in her limbs. With only her head above the surface, and in total da
rkness, she had never felt more alone. She had been placed in what Dr. Klein called “the water coffin” soon after waking up. There was no light and no sound, only her ragged breath keeping her company. At first, she focused on her rage to try to stay warm, but after a while, thoughts, feelings, and even time became a jumbled mess. Before she knew it, she was hallucinating.

  It started as a few spots here and there and the sounds of bells and static. Then, shapes started to form, creeping across her vision like insects and worms. Then, finally, a pink-and-purple caterpillar started to inch around and make funny gestures. With nothing else to do, and in the vain hope of keeping her sanity, she started talking to it.

  “Is death anything like this, Mr. Caterpillar?”

  It shrugged and then crawled onto a mushroom, curling up comfortably next to a tiny campfire.

  “I guess death would be like this.”

  It smiled sleepily.

  “I wonder if I’ll ever actually die. I’m immortal, you know.”

  It stuck out its tongue.

  “Oh, come now, Mr. Caterpillar. Be nice!”

  It blew a kiss and went to sleep.

  “Now my imaginary caterpillar is taking a nap, and here I am floating in my own piss. God help me, if I wasn’t nuts before they put me in here, I am now—”

  Suddenly, the sound of metal screeched all around her, and her world was flooded with light, making her yelp from the abrupt overstimulation. She shut her eyes tight, her head almost immediately throbbing with pain. Then she was roughly lifted out of the water coffin. Sounds of what might be speech were drowned out by loud bells and harsh static. Someone’s fingers roughly pried open her eyes one at a time and shined a light directly into them. The agony in her forehead increased as she cried again.

  Through the pounding headache, she heard a voice say, “No change.”

  Whoever was holding her let her go, and she fell to the floor like a rag doll, hitting her chin. The impact made her world explode like fireworks. She couldn’t move at all. For a few minutes, she lay there weeping, unable to focus. Finally, her vision returned enough to make out shapes, and she saw Dick, Dock, and Dr. Klein conversing over a clipboard. Through the static, she made out words like “condition worsening” and “running out of options.”