by Leo King
She stirred from her thoughts. If she hadn’t spent two nights in a row running for her life, she’d be skeptical about that. But now? What he said made perfect sense. Taking out a pen, she sucked gently on the cap, paying attention.
He put his hands on the podium and leaned forward. “So when we look at the chemical outputs of fear and death, can there be any doubt that some people are just born to kill? And following that logic, can you not say that some people are born to be victims?” His countenance darkened as everyone in the auditorium inhaled deeply.
With a chuckle, he leaned back. “Of course, I jest for the sake of shocking you into thinking. But consider this: when a crime involving multiple potential victims is committed, the offender will often go for the person who exudes the strongest fear scent. So in many ways, one can say that the perpetrator of a violent crime is drawn to the person most likely to be their victim.”
Alexia exhaled along with everyone else. This guy was creepy. Brilliant, but creepy.
“So, now we come to the crux of the matter. The idea that being predator or prey is as much a matter of chemical release as it is size or strength. In no species other than humanity is that more prevalent. Take the case of the new Bourbon Street Ripper from three years ago. The copycat killer, Dallas Christofer, was killed by Samantha Castille, his intended final victim. Why?”
The example couldn’t have been more personal to Alexia. All of her attention was on Professor Mathias.
“Samantha was being tortured by Dallas when something inside her changed. Now we know that Detective Rodger Bergeron was there. But while he fought Dallas, she freed herself from metal shackles, overpowered Dallas, and killed him. How was this possible? She was smaller and suffering from both locked-in syndrome and blood loss. How was she able to overcome this and fight back?”
Someone in the audience shouted, “Magic?”
A general laugh rippled through the audience. But Alexia said nothing. Her paradigm on magic had already been shifted. For now, she was riveted on what Professor Mathias might say.
“Perhaps,” he said. “Someone once called it ‘magic in your mind,’ after all. But the truth is stranger than fiction. Samantha, through what appeared to be sheer force of will, changed her scent from fear to aggression. No doubt, when Dallas no longer sensed a victim, his resolve to murder her faltered. And when Samantha began to overpower him, no doubt his own fear scent gave her the edge to finish him off.”
Placing his hands together and smiling wolfishly, he said, “So the next time something frightens you, remember, it’s your fear that marks you as a victim. Therefore, fear really is what kills you. Thank you for coming.”
He left the podium, and as Professor Templeton concluded the lecture, the audience applauded. Alexia drew back into her thoughts. Was that what happened to Michael and what happened to her? Could she use her will to change her scent like Samantha did?
Those thoughts brought out a sigh. Maybe her brother would still be alive if he had known the truth about loa.
The lecture hall began to clear out. She grabbed her books and got in line to speak with Professor Mathias in person. She ended up being last in line and waited over thirty minutes. By the time she got to him, he was packed up and ready to leave.
Templeton motioned toward her. “Ah, Mathias. Before you go, I did want you to meet my best forensics pupil. This is Miss Alexia LeBlanc.”
“LeBlanc,” Professor Mathias said. He put on his coat and regarded her. His expression never faltered. “You wouldn’t have any relation to Detective Michael LeBlanc, would you?”
She felt a bit overwhelmed by his steady scrutiny. “Yes, sir. He was my older brother.”
“I thought so. You are the spitting image. My condolences on his death. I studied the case in New Orleans as it broke, and I believe that had he survived the Bourgeois arrest, the case would have had a less… messy outcome at the end.”
“I’ve often felt the same way. Thank you, sir.”
He picked up his briefcase. She quickly re-captured his eyes. “Sir, I have a question about what you said regarding switching from prey to predator.”
“Go on, Miss LeBlanc.” His gaze penetrated her.
She swallowed. “So, if a person can theoretically switch between emitting fear to aggression, then a person can stop being the prey and start being the predator. Is that correct?”
“It is.”
She shifted from foot to foot. More than anyone, even her father, he made her feel like a green student. “So, then, how does one do that?”
With a gum-filled smile, he said, “My dear Miss LeBlanc, to do that, one must completely believe, with every fiber of their being, that they can rip the other to shreds.” He leaned forward and nearly growled as he said “shreds.” “You have to know you’re going to kill them, destroy them. Then they will be afraid of you.”
Then Professor Mathias leaned back. “I hope that answers your question. Good luck with your final exams, Miss LeBlanc.” He gestured toward Templeton. “Come, Irving. I am starving, and I still have several hours before my flight leaves. Take me to the Lullwater social. I heard they’re serving lamb chops at the buffet.”
“Absolutely, Mathias,” Templeton said. He patted Alexia’s shoulder as he passed.
Soon, she was all alone in the lecture hall.
Change myself to predator. Make the other fear me.
Holding her cross locket, she said to herself, “If my will is strong enough, if my faith is strong enough, then I should be able to do that. Right?”
She was alone as she walked down the hallway, her footsteps resounding loudly. Sucking on her pen cap and thinking, she stopped by a corkboard where various student and school activities were posted.
Whatever this thing was, it killed by some sort of exsanguination. But it was more than that. It couldn’t get Chuck up into the ceiling, so he and Marcie got sucked into the drain. And Helen’s body was pulled into the ground.
A flash of white light caught her attention. That small, white orb from before floated around an advertisement for a concert at the park. The opening band was called “Earth Gods.” Just as quickly, the orb vanished.
Seeing those words made a light go off in her head. “Wait! What if this entity is somehow related to the earth? Could it be linked to Emory, or even Druid Hills?”
“That’s just what was I was thinking,” Dixie said, coming down the hallway.
Alexia jerked back in surprise. “What’re you doing here?”
“Picking you up. I figured we could go for a coffee or tea or whatever you drink. And I see that I’m not the only genius with an oral fixation.”
She glanced down at the pen, the cap wet with spit, and felt her ears get hot. “It’s just a nervous habit, sheesh!”
Dixie laughed and patted her on the back. They both headed down the hallway. “I know. I know. I nibble my thumb. I’m just playing with you. You’re as bad as your brother.”
Putting the pen away, Alexia asked, “So, I take it that my brother is what you want to talk about?”
“Yup. I figure this is the last chance we might get. And I have a story about Michael that you need to hear.”
She nodded. “Is it sad?”
Dixie squeezed her shoulder. “No. But it will make you cry.”
Chapter 31
A Truth Revealed
Date: Sunday, April 23, 1995
Time: 4:00 p.m.
Location: Rise-and-Dine
Druid Hills, Atlanta, Georgia
Steam rose from the cup of hot chocolate in Alexia’s hands, caressing her face. Throughout the diner, groups of students were either conversing without a care in the world or getting a jump-start on studying for finals. She ignored them all, concentrating on the sensation of heat rolling over her skin. It was a welcome feeling. With a heavy sigh, she raised the cup to her lips and drank, enjoying the sweet, rich flavor.
No matter what, her life would never be the same again.
A few days
ago, life was perfect. She was on track for acing her finals and taking on the state fencing championships as team captain. Now, she was just happy to be alive and sitting in a booth in the corner of a diner, drinking hot cocoa.
Across from her, Dixie watched in silence, nursing a cup of coffee. Her expression was tired, the lines showing on her brow. Her left arm rested limply at her side. Finally, she spoke. “What’s on your mind, Alexia?”
Looking up, Alexia tried to appear pleasant, but it was too much effort. “I’m annoyed with myself.”
“Why?”
She put down the cup and rubbed her face. “I should have known more about Lullwater. I always do this. I discount things that aren’t in my spectrum of interest. I must be pathetic.”
To her surprise, Dixie cackled. “My, my. If you don’t remind me of your brother right this moment.”
Alexia stared, taken aback.
Dixie gingerly sniffed her coffee, then sipped it. “Michael always beat himself up when he didn’t realize something.”
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” Alexia said. “It all goes back to our father.”
“He caused a lot of problems for you both, eh?”
Still rubbing her head, she murmured, “You have no idea, Dixie.” Even thinking about him was upsetting.
“Oh, I think I do.”
Slowly, she lowered her hands. “Do you, now?”
“Michael and I were best friends. He told me everything. How his father blocked his entrance to the FBI, how the schism with his family never healed, and how you were the one ray of light in his life.”
Alexia felt her cheeks get hot. “Big Brother said that about me?”
Nodding, Dixie said, “On more than one occasion. He told me that if you hadn’t been there for him all those years, he’d have killed himself.”
This was the first time Alexia had ever heard that Michael had contemplated suicide. “Oh, wow. I don’t know what to say.”
Smiling gently, Dixie said, “Don’t let it bother you. Michael loved you more than anyone else in the world. Even me.” Her voice choked a bit.
Her eyes watering up, Alexia sloshed around her now-cool chocolate. “So that’s what you wanted to tell me, then.”
“Not entirely.”
“What do you mean?”
Dixie’s expression was pained, and she forced a smile. “What I’m about to tell you is something I have kept to myself for years.”
“All right. Go on.”
With a brief but sharp inhale, Dixie shifted in her seat. Then she gently traced the lip of her coffee cup. “About a month before the new Bourbon Street Ripper case began, Michael and I got stuck on duty finishing reports. Sometimes, the precinct would get a backlog, and the junior detectives would be stuck doing paperwork for several days.”
Alexia nodded. Michael had mentioned such things before.
“This one stretch had us pull close to a twenty-four-hour shift. Luckily, our boss let us take our work home. We took it back to your brother’s apartment and didn’t stop until sometime around two in the morning.”
Recalling past conversations with her brother, Alexia said, “Right. He told me about that, Dixie. He said the two of you ended up going to the Cat’s Meow, a gay bar on Bourbon Street, and getting drunk.”
“Yes, but did he tell you what we talked about?”
She shook her head.
Dixie leaned in. Her voice grew hushed. “We talked about him being gay. It all started when we saw this adorable college guy. I suggested that Michael should ask him to dance. The next thing I know, he’s bawling like a little kid. I had never seen him like that before.”
“Why?” The only time Alexia had ever seen him cry was after the fight with their father, and those were tears of betrayal.
“His heart was in pain, Alexia. Constant pain. He wanted so badly to have a family, to have a father who loved him, to feel free to go home and see his mother and little sister. He told me that the more he pretended things were OK, the more he felt dead inside.”
Alexia pushed her chocolate away, no longer interested in drinking it. “So, what happened?”
“Well, we walked back to his place—stumbled, actually,” Dixie said, reclining once more. “All the while, he was carrying on, letting out years of pent-up pain. He poured his heart out until four in the morning. At the end of it, he admitted something he’d kept to himself his entire life.”
Now it was Alexia’s turn to lean forward. “Please tell me.”
“He said he honestly didn’t know if he was truly gay, or if he was broken, like your father had said. He believed that he had to be broken for his father to hate him so much.”
Tightness grew in Alexia’s throat. Her father calling Michael “broken” is what had pushed him out the door.
Dixie paused, slowly inhaling and then exhaling. “So, he asked me if he could try to see if he really was broken. He wanted to know for sure if he was gay.”
“Wait a second,” Alexia said, staring with wide eyes. She pretty much knew where this was going. “You mean he asked you to… you know?”
“Yes,” Dixie said, her cheeks a deep red. “It wasn’t the first time someone has asked me to have sex just to see if they were gay. All those other guys were creeps who just wanted to get in my pants. But not Michael. The confusion. The pain. The inner turmoil he kept buried deep inside. That was all real. He truly wanted to know if he was lying to himself about being gay. He really wanted to know if he was broken like your father said and if sleeping with me would fix him.”
Alexia felt a lump in her throat. She struggled to swallow the now-cool cocoa. It tasted bitter. “So, you slept with my brother, then?”
Nodding once more, Dixie wiped away a few tears. “Yes. Now don’t get me wrong. I love Gino. And never before or since have I cheated on him. But for Michael, someone I loved that much, I did it. Just once.”
For a long moment, Alexia stared into Dixie’s eyes. In her heart, she knew what resulted. “In the end, he realized he was gay, right?”
“Yes. Queer as the day is long. Poor dear stuck with it until he finished, but in the end, he said it didn’t feel natural. He said he felt gross sleeping with a girl, even one he loved.”
It was almost too much for Alexia. Her sweet big brother had bottled all that pain and confusion, and she never knew. “Was he OK with himself after that night?”
A sad expression crossed Dixie’s face. “He never talked about it. I don’t know if he even allowed himself to think about it. But yes, he was no longer confused. He knew what he was, and he was OK with it. He was ‘fixed’ from needing to be ‘fixed.’ I think he even started looking for a boyfriend. I seem to recall him mentioning a cute cop in Lafayette.”
With a soft sigh, Alexia felt the tightness loosen from her throat. “Well, then, all was well.” She wiped away the few remaining tears.
To her surprise, Dixie started laughing.
“And what’s so funny?”
Instead of answering, she took out her wallet and fished out a picture. Then she slid it over to Alexia. It was Dixie with a handsome, olive-skinned man and a beautiful toddler with dark hair.
“That’s Gino, right? And who’s the kid? Congrats, by the way.”
“Thank you,” Dixie said. “That’s my daughter Felicia.”
She leaned forward. “Your niece.”
“My what?” Alexia jerked so hard she hit the table with her knees. Dixie’s coffee spilled.
Picking the picture back up, Dixie smiled apologetically. “I had a paternity test done without Gino’s knowledge. No match. So Felicia is Michael’s child.” She cleaned up the spilled coffee.
Now Alexia gaped. “You did what?”
Dixie shrugged. “I guess everyone has to have a skeleton in their closet. This one is mine. And if Gino ever figures it out, I’ll deal with it.”
Alexia continued to stare. Part of her wanted to slap Dixie across the face and proclaim her a whore. The other part of her under
stood it was sometimes best to leave things alone. Once again, her strict upbringing and her common sense were at odds. Finally, she asked, “You weren’t married when it happened, right?”
“Wasn’t even engaged.”
She frowned. “For Michael’s sake, I won’t say anything else. What’s done is done.”
Locking eyes with Dixie, she asked, “So why did you tell me? Was it to unburden your soul? I really hope not. That would cheapen Michael’s memory.”
“No, not one bit,” Dixie said. “I’ve already sought guidance, counsel, and absolution. I told you because, through Felicia, a part of Michael lives on.”
She rested her hand on Alexia’s. “And I want you to be her godmother.”
Hearing that was more than she could handle. Turning away, Alexia wept.
It was later in the evening when they arrived back at campus, having stayed at the diner a while longer, sharing stories about Michael. It was only when Dixie’s pager went off with an Emory phone number that they returned.
Serge and Leona met them at the entrance to the library.
“Talk run a bit late there, Dixie?” Serge’s arms were folded. He seemed annoyed.
Dixie held out her hand. “I apologize. Don’t blame Alexia, Serge. It was all on me.”
Leona pressed her fingers to his chest. “Serge, my love, let it go. They had their own demons to exorcise.”
With a grunt, he waved everyone off. “I must call Father and report in. Dixie, Dr. Lazarus wants you to call. Leona, please take Alexia to Patty.”
Before Alexia could speak, Dixie hugged her and said, “I’ll see you in a little while. And I’ll introduce you to Dr. Lazarus next time. He does want to meet you.” Then she left with Serge.
“Um, bye?” Alexia waved to the air.
Covering a giggle with her hand, Leona led Alexia into the library. “Come. Your friend Patty is like a supercomputer. She’s all but solved this Lullwater mystery herself.”
