Boy in the Mirror

by Robert J. Duperre

Alexander snapped his finger’s in the pastor’s face, making him flinch. “Yes?” he stammered.

  “I’m taking my boy to the shrine.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Yes, tonight. Do you have a problem with that?”

  “Of course not, Alexander. Of course not.” He shoved his hand in his pocket and fished around for something. “Hold on, I’ll get the key.”

  “There is no need for that,” he told the pastor. “I have my own.” He opened the door and ushered Drew through.

  Behind the door was a long hallway that seemed to stretch out forever. Vulgate Presbyterian was the largest church in all of Mercy Hills, but Drew didn’t think it was this big.

  “Dad, what’s this about?” he asked.

  Alexander strode with purpose, the click of his shoes on tile echoing off the walls. “I saw the gesture you gave the Thompson boy,” he said. “I will not have my son act in such an inappropriate way in a place of worship.”

  Drew exhaled in frustration. “Sorry.”

  “Sorry isn’t good enough. Especially after what you’ve done.”

  “What did I do now?” he asked, though he dreaded the answer.

  “I know what happened with the Talbot girl. I know that you took the articles I had been given and posted them around your school. I know how you have been treating her and young Mr. Thompson. I had hoped you would see the error of your ways, but you have not. It stops. Now.”

  “Okay.” He swallowed to gain his courage, then said, “I’m not sorry for that, though. What Jordan did to Todd was messed up. They were supposed to be friends.”

  His father stopped in his tracks and held up his hand. He glowered, shook his head. “What Todd did was ugly. Disgusting. If Mr. Thompson hadn’t intervened, it would have brought shame down on our family…‌or even worse, altered the course of our future. I daresay Mr. Thompson should be commended for his actions, not vilified.”

  Alexander started walking again, his every stride perfectly measured. Drew hurried after him. Up ahead was a stairwell, and father and son descended.

  “I don’t get it,” Drew huffed. “Who the hell cares about that girl, or Jordan? Come next year, I’ll be outta here. What’s it matter how I treat them? You control everything in this town. They can’t touch me. They can’t touch us.”

  “You speak out of ignorance.”

  “Fine. Enlighten me.”

  His father sighed. The both of them stopped their descent, now standing before the basement entrance. Alexander shoved open the door and stepped into the dim hallway beyond. Drew followed. He’d never been in this part of the church before.

  “You misunderstand my words,” his father said. “You always have. What I do, what I have done throughout my entire life, has never been about control, but salvation.”

  His father paused before a thick gray door. He took a silver key from his pocket, stuck it into the lock, and turned. The door opened with a rush of chilly air. Alexander Cottard considered his son with eyes that looked haunted in the dim light.

  “A perfect world,” he said. “A world without pain, without sin. Our family has been working toward that world for centuries. And it is coming soon.”

  He stepped into the room beyond. Drew hesitated before going through as well.

  The place they entered was at least twenty feet in either direction. Soft light glowed from lamps set up in each of the room’s four corners. Six marble parapets topped with books encased in glass formed a circle in the center of the room. Three of the walls were painted with a wraparound mural depicting a being of light surrounded by kneeling subjects. Drew examined the painting; the farther away from the glowing figure, tracking back along the wall, the more unsettling the scenes depicted: men with swords hacking off heads, men strapping other men to racks; men forcibly taking screaming women; women drowning their own children in a shallow stream. There were unearthly monstrosities too, things with devil horns, goat legs, and long black claws. Drew turned away, shuddering.

  Alexander stared at the portrait of the alighted figure. Drew approached his father slowly. The man looked awed, even reverential. Drew had never seen him act that way, not even in church.

  “The bible was wrong,” Alexander said coldly. “God had not one Son, but two.”

  “Two? Huh?”

  “Jesus was not the first. Jesus was God’s way of correcting a wrong, for He had damned His first Son to an existence in darkness.” He gestured to the large, glowing form on the wall. “He had thought that man could be saved by a manifestation of the Holy Light, by the personification of God Himself. And so God sent Khayrat down from Heaven to treat with the people of Israel. But mankind was primitive, uneducated in the ways of their Creator. Khayrat had no earthly form, so they thought Him a demon, and they used the magics of old to banish God’s Son to a hell where there was no light save His own.”

  Drew looked at his father, baffled. This was a man who’d been a model of cold, hard reality his whole life. Now he was spouting nonsense.

  Alexander went on: “And so God learned, and when He sent His Second Son down from heaven, He presented Him in a form mankind could understand. Jesus was born, and taught His subjects the way of the righteous, opening the gates of Heaven to all of mankind. Yet mankind was still not saved, for while Jesus now sits at the right hand of the Father, the Father is not yet complete. His left hand still languishes in darkness, and humans will suffer forever until He is freed. Only then will mankind know true salvation, for Khayrat is the Light of God, and He will bring about Heaven on Earth.”

  “Dad, what the hell’re you talking about?”

  Alexander pointed to the glass-sheathed book on the parapet to his right. “Those words are inside that tome, written by the prophet Yusef Darshmal, the founder of the first Covenant of Khayrat, a hundred years after the birth of Christ. Our ancestors were Darshmal’s disciples, and the history of our order has been passed down through our family for two thousand years. We are the last bastion of mankind, son. We are the saviors of humanity.”

  “Why’re you telling me this?”

  “Because you need to know your legacy.”

  “Yeah, okay, sure. But why tell me now? You believe this so strongly, why is this the first I’m hearing it?”

  His father turned to him slowly, gravely. “Because one cannot be indoctrinated; one must be given the choice, for with the Covenant, it is the last choice you will make.”

  Drew rolled his eyes. “Okay, I’ll play along. So there’s this first Son of God guy, and he’s all made of light and everything. What’s that got to do with Jacqueline Talbot?”

  “The Talbot girl is to be the Mother of God. She cannot be soiled until the prophet Yusef returns.” His father’s smile grew all the wider. “It is prophesy, son, written and strived toward by our ancestors for thousands of years. On the anniversary of the day Emperor Decius began the persecution of Christians in Rome, the first trial will be complete. It is our destiny.”

  Drew shook his head. “Nice one, dad. Really nice. You almost had me there.”

  “I am serious, son.”

  “Sure you are.”

  Alexander fell to his knees, hands clasped, eyes pleading. Drew stumbled backward, shocked. His father had been a lifelong pillar of strength; to see him weak…

  “Please, son, you must believe me,” said Alexander. “You must choose to enter the Covenant. Now that you know, you must let Khayrat into your heart. It is the only way to salvation.”

  Drew pulled away. “This is crazy. Shit, dad, I don’t even know you.” He turned and headed for the exit.

  “Is that your answer?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Very well. But before you go, I have something else to show you.”

  Drew swiveled around. His father rose to his feet, brushed the creases from his suit. He reached beneath one of the marble rostrums and popped open a hidden drawer, removing a small vial from within. Alexander looked distraught as he extended it toward his son. �
�This is for you.”

  Drew approached, took the vial from his father. It looked like it was made of stone but was smooth as glass and topped with a clay stopper.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “A scent from the old country. A gift, from father to son.”

  “Um, okay.”

  “Open it.”

  Drew shrugged, popped the stopper, brought the vial to his nose, and sniffed. A burning sensation assaulted his nostrils, the pain so intense it was like being stabbed behind the eyes. Drew dropped the vial and fell to his knees, clawing at his face. Sparks raged in his vision, blinding him. It felt like his brain was being squeezed in a vice. “Make it stop!” he shrieked. “MAKE IT STOP!”

  “Both my sons have disappointed me,” his father said. “Neither of you could see the blessed truth. You cannot turn away from the Covenant. If you do not choose Paradise, then Paradise will be forced upon you.”

  Drew writhed on the floor, every inch of him on fire. When he opened his eyes, he saw his father above him, cold and uncaring. “Do not fight it, Drew. Do not be like Derek. Let it in. You may no longer be free, but you will serve a higher purpose. In the end, that is all any human can ask: to be party to the rebirth of our Lord. Glory be to God!”

  Glory be to God! The words echoed in his head as Drew screamed, and screamed, and screamed, until finally he gave in. He fell still.

  “Your service has begun,” Alexander Cottard said. “How do you feel?”

  “Well,” Drew’s mouth spoke, though the voice wasn’t totally his.

  “Excellent. You have much work to do. We have a flock to shepherd, and new believers shall be forged…”

  CHAPTER 38

  Jacqueline sat with her aunt in the living room, surrounded by shredded wrapping paper. Mitzy had gone overboard for Christmas, giving her a laptop, curling iron, three new pairs of jeans, a gossamer black top, tons of bottles of sparkly nail polish, eight different shades of lipstick, a set of paranormal romance novels, and the last four seasons of Doctor Who on DVD. Jacqueline stared at the bounty, feeling ashamed. All she’d given Mitzy was a beaded necklace she’d made with Ronni two days ago. I didn’t even get her a card.

  “There’s one more,” Mitzy said, and handed Jacqueline a small, surprisingly heavy box.

  “You didn’t have to,” Jacqueline said with a frown.

  Mitzy winked. “I like getting things for people I love. And, well, you’re just about the only person I love in this world, so there you go.”

  Jacqueline nodded.

  “Would you just open it already?” Mitzy said.

  “Okay.”

  She ripped into the paper, uncovering a beige box. Inside the box was a silver compact, all shiny and new. Jacqueline stared at it, unsure how to react.

  “Flip it over,” her aunt said.

  Jacqueline did. The words To the most beautiful girl in the world were engraved on the bottom. Jacqueline felt her eyes fill with tears.

  “I’ve seen the way you treat your mom’s old compact,” Mitzy said, sounding wistful. “You carry it with you everywhere. I know you love her. I guess I just wanted you to feel the same way about me.” She inclined her head. “Maybe one day, when I’m gone, you’ll be able to use that old thing to talk to me in the same way.”

  Jacqueline flinched, her lips falling open ever so slightly. “What?”

  “Kidding,” Mitzy said, playfully slapping her knee. “That compact’s not old. It’s a vintage copy, but it’s brand new. It still has blush in it, so it’s actually useful. Guess you can say that’s my way of bribing you to actually use it.”

  “Oh.”

  Her aunt touched the handmade necklace dangling from her neck. “And this is great, Jackie. I love it. You’ve brought me so much joy, sweetie. This is the least I can do to pay it back. Now let’s eat!”

  Brunch consisted of blueberry pancakes, tofu scram, and cucumber sandwiches. Mitzy ate her food with a grin on her face. Jacqueline kept the compact open on the kitchen table, and her own face stared back at her. She smiled, and watched her lips curl upward. Then she frowned and saw creases form at the corners of her mouth. There was indeed an untouched pad of blush inside, along with the applicator, and she picked up the felted pad, dabbing a bit of reddish-tan color to her cheeks. Her dark skin tone lightened ever so slightly, which made her look even more like Mitzy. Jacqueline closed the compact and wiped the blush from her cheeks with her napkin.

  Mitzy stared at her from across the table. “You don’t like it?”

  Jacqueline winced. “No, it’s not that,” she said. “I just never wear blush. It’ll take some practice.”

  Thankfully, that wasn’t a lie.

  “I can teach you,” said Mitzy.

  “Okay. You’ve already done so much, though.”

  Mitzy winked when she said, “Get used to it. Your birthday’s in less than a month. Sixteen! I’ll even throw you and your friends a party if you want.”

  Jacqueline was taken aback. She hadn’t celebrated a birthday since her father was put away. It was both exciting and terrifying to think of having a party.

  When the dishes were cleaned and put away, Mitzy went to take a shower. Jacqueline snatched the new compact off the table, grabbed her new laptop, and rushed up the stairs. She quietly closed her bedroom door, grabbed her mother’s antique compact, and flopped down on the bed. She turned on the laptop, which was pre-loaded with software and ready to go. It even had World of Warcraft installed, just as she’d asked for. She could finally play online with Annette. Grinning, Jacqueline placed both compacts down on either side of the laptop and opened the silver cases. Mal appeared instantly.

  “Merry Christmas,” he said. His grey eyes then narrowed. “What’s that?”

  “My new computer,” she said. “Finally. Want to watch me slay some orcs?”

  “No, Jackie. The mirror.”

  “Oh, that. Mitzy got me a new compact.”

  His lips twisted. “She did?”

  “Yeah,” she replied. “For a second I got scared. I thought she might know about you.”

  “And now you think she doesn’t?”

  “Nope. I think my head’s just playing tricks on me again.” She stared at her own reflection, tousled her hair.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Jackie.”

  “What?” she said, head whipping around. “Why’d you say that?”

  “Your aunt might be up to something. She might not have your best interests in mind.”

  “Why would you say that?” Jacqueline whispered.

  “I’ve discovered things. Stuff you might not like.”

  She hated it when Mal talked all vague. “You’re not making sense.”

  “Jackie, I’ve found answers in the stars. I’ve seen the past, and it can’t be a coincidence. There are no coincidences!”

  Jacqueline’s mouth corkscrewed. “Then tell me.”

  “It’s been right there in front of us, Jackie,” Mal said, his eyes flitting toward the glowing laptop screen. “Can you search for information using that?”

  She nodded.

  “Enter your father’s name, along with the name of the town where you now reside.”

  Jacqueline fired up the search engine, typed Joseph Talbot and Mercy Hills, CT. She scanned the results. The first page linked to articles about the events in Lake Salem, but halfway down the second page, she struck an odd note.

  “Mercy Hills Man Rescues Kidnapped Girls,” the headline read, her father’s name highlighted in the snippets of text below. Jacqueline’s fingers shook as she clicked the link.

  The article that came up was dated ten years ago. Apparently some guy named Ken had thwarted an attempted murder and followed the killer into the mountains of Vermont, where he’d disappeared for nearly a week. When he reappeared, he had with him four girls who’d been kidnapped. The article referenced a string of child disappearances and gruesome murders, and one line in particular caught her eye.

  “Joseph T
albot of 32 Chestnut Street, and his young daughter, were saved from the hands of the unknown murderer. Joseph could not be reached for comment.”

  Jacqueline sat up, her blood pumping. Was that really me? Did that explain the nightmares she’d suffered from for years? She knew it was possible for children to block out childhood trauma. She looked back at Mal.

  “I lived here before,” she said.

  “You did,” Mal replied. “Do you see any other similarities?”

  “A few girls have gone missing,” she said, insides clenched in horror.

  “Exactly. History is repeating itself, Jackie, and you’re at the center of it all.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you. You are important, Jackie. You are Gorgon, you are a conduit between realities. Time is a loop. There are…‌no…‌coincidences.”

  “And you think Mitzy knows? You think she…” Jacqueline swallowed, feeling close to hyperventilating. “You think she wants me hurt?”

  “I doubt it,” Mal said. “But I have no way of knowing for certain. It’s best to be cautious. Have you seen anything about her that is…‌odd?”

  She thought of the pot and the gun hidden in the room down the hall. “She might be a drug dealer. You know, like Nancy in Weeds.”

  “Who?”

  “Forget it.”

  “Whatever she is, whatever her purpose, you can’t trust her.” He smiled warmly. “But take solace in the fact that in the end, it won’t matter.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I finally figured out how to get out of here.”

  Jacqueline sat back, glanced around nervously, listened to the patter of footsteps downstairs. Mitzy was done with her shower. Jacqueline erased her search history, shut down the browser, and closed the laptop. She leaned forward, looked Mal in the eyes, and whispered, “How?”

  “It all has to do with the shadows,” he said. “Is there a place nearby that the locals feel is haunted? An old house, a large house, where bad things have happened?”

  “You mean the old Coppington place?”

  “That’s it. The stars told me that name. This Coppington house, does it seem as if light is sucked into it? Like it’s darker than it should be?”