by Leo King
Sam recognized him at once. “Dad!”
Edward Castille reached into his coat. “Sorry, little magnolia. I have no choice. I must do what the king says.” Taking out two machetes, he rushed forward. “Forgive me!”
She jumped back just in time to avoid getting cut. For the first time since she had united with Brigitte, she felt internal discord. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t destroy him. He might not have been her birth father, but he was her daddy. She loved him.
Her jaw was tightly clenched. Her stomach was in knots from growing frustration. She dodged a blow by handspringing back, but he relentlessly pressed the attack. As she dodged yet another strike, this time by flipping over him, he cut one of her legs.
Sam felt the approaching heat from the fire. The attic would be burning soon.
I have to escape!
Edward jumped and kicked at her, then swiped at her several times. She barely dodged.
Think! There has to be a way to stop him without destroying him. Think!
The answer came from deep within. Fight a ghost with other ghosts. With that came Brigitte’s knowledge of how to summon the spirits of the dead.
Pressing her hands to the ground, she felt energy flow from her body and into the floor. The feeling was ecstatic, like she was controlling the world. Soon, she saw three similar circles of runes appear on the floor in a triangular pattern.
I hope this works.
Sam rushed in to fight Edward, to delay him until her own help arrived.
He slashed at her. She spun to the side like a top to avoid it. Then she punched at him. He slapped her fist aside with one machete and cut her arm with the other. She jumped back defensively, then flipped forward, bringing her legs crashing down on his shoulders.
“Useless failure of a son,” chided Vincent. “Can’t you even defeat one woman?”
“Leave him alone, you damn coward!” yelled Sam.
Edward, recovering from the kick, threw the two machetes at her. Sliding underneath the weapons, she pushed up and wrapped her feet around his neck. Then, with a twist, she threw him down to the hard floor.
She yelled to Vincent, “Edward was not a failure. Hell, he was the best parent that ever lived. Yes, he made a lot of mistakes, like with Mom. But any man who was able to love his wife and son whom he almost never saw, as well as the girl whose birth tore his family apart, was a hell of a parent. And you know what… ‘Father’?”
As Edward got up, the attic began to fill with thick, black smoke. Sam’s lungs began to burn and her vision became obscured. Taking advantage of those distractions, Edward rushed forward, this time with knives for fingers. He swiped at her again and again, pushing her back to a wall.
As she dodged, Sam yelled, “Edward is ten times the father you ever were. In fact, you don’t deserve to be called ‘Grandfather’ or ‘Father’ anymore. For the rest of my life, you’re just ‘Vincent.’”
Vincent snarled angrily as Edward rushed in, jabbing with his knife-tipped fingers. Both sets of claws easily sank into her midsection. She cried out, blood gushing in alarming amounts.
“Samantha, I am so sorry,” Edward cried out in anguish.
Sam coughed up some blood. All around, the fire grew until Sam’s flesh was starting to redden. If she didn’t get out of there soon, she was going be burned alive. She didn’t know how long it would take to recover from that kind of damage, if it was even possible, and she didn’t want to find out. She needed to end this fight now.
“Sorry, Dad!” Sam cried out and thrust both palms at him, stepping forward and focusing all of her will into the blow. She wanted to push him back toward the three circles of runes and then make her escape.
Edward flipped back, avoiding the strike. When he landed, he stopped and stared at Sam’s hands.
They were glowing. Wisps of white and purple energy, like the corona of a star, were coalescing into a sphere in front of her hands. She could feel her power focusing from every fiber of her being into that sphere. Her stance was making it happen. What is this?
As the sphere of energy reached the size of a baseball, she instinctively knew to circle her hands around it and then again thrust them forward.
She did so. The result was spectacular.
The blast of white energy that flew out of the sphere spiraled with raw power, purple lightning crackling around it. The blast crashed into Edward. He flew back and landed between the three circles of runes. He was flickering and looked extremely weak.
My God!
If she had used any more power, she would have destroyed him.
As Edward got up, the three circles of runes exploded in energy, sending beams of light upward. Sam shielded her eyes. When the light dimmed, standing there were three people she was truly glad to see: Rodger, Michael, and Richie.
“Impossible! I command the dead in this region,” said Vincent.
She knew that they were ghosts. But for the moment, she was no longer fighting alone. She felt connected to them all one last time.
“I get the feeling ghosts have much more free will than loa, Vincent. I don’t think you’re as powerful as you pretend to be.”
Vincent roared with rage.
The three other ghosts rushed at Edward. He swiped at them each in turn, but it didn’t help. He was soon overcome. They held him back and started pulling him through the floor.
“Go now and live,” whispered Rodger’s ghost to Sam.
Michael’s ghost looked at her. “Sever Vincent’s connection to this world.”
“Set your heart free,” Richie's ghost whispered, smiling at her.
Sam felt a tear in her eye. She smiled. “I will, guys, I will. And one day, I’ll set you free. I swear it!” Seeing those she loved trapped in this world and unable to move on just strengthened her resolve against Vincent.
The three dragged Edward back into the ground. Just before vanishing, he cried out, “Live for me, my little magnolia. Live for me!”
Turning, Sam rushed toward the glass window. The outside didn’t look nightmarish. It looked like New Orleans. It looked real.
The attic was completely covered in flames. As she took a few steps back, preparing to jump through the window, she heard Vincent make one final plea.
“Please, Sam! Please! I just want you to live a life without fear.”
“Then you succeeded, Vincent, because I’m no longer afraid. Of you or anything else!” Gritting her teeth, Sam covered her face and then jumped toward the window.
She crashed out into the warm August night as if in slow motion. The particles of glass moved past her like twinkling stars. Turning in midair, she saw the sudden intake of air feed the fire as if it were a hungry beast. The fire’s going to flash over. I have to hurry. Cocking her right arm back, she prepared to throw the silver pen into the inferno.
And then the attic exploded.
Sam lost track of the silver pen as she flew back. The flesh on the left side of her body, closest to the explosion, burst into flames. Her hair and clothes caught fire as well. The concussive force was so great that she felt some of her bones shatter. She landed in a heap outside her townhome as it burnt to the ground.
As she lay there, she felt the cool rain extinguish the fires on her body. She couldn’t move. Her left arm was blackened, and she could feel similar burns on the entire left side of her body. It felt like most of her bones were broken. Each breath felt like she was taking in water. Her eyes watered from the immense pain.
Only her headache seemed to be gone.
The pen! Did she destroy it? Did she sever Vincent’s connection to the world?
She didn’t know. She couldn’t see the silver pen from where she lay.
Sam searched within for any signs of Brigitte. However, she couldn’t find any traces of the loa queen. It was as if the damage Sam had suffered had made Brigitte vanish. For a moment, Sam wondered if the experience had been real.
Her adrenaline wore off. Her consciousness was slipping. If she died now
, that would mean the whole thing was in her head. She would just be a crazy chick who went psycho and killed herself, just like she wrote it. Wouldn’t that be a fitting end?
She was aware of flashing red and blue lights and of sirens getting closer. She was also aware of something in her blackened hand. Opening those burnt fingers hurt. Nestled in her palm was a partially melted red shoe. The only memento of her mother. The word “Comus” was illegible.
Mother’s charm was ruined.
She closed her scorched fingers back around it. She wanted to keep it. She wanted to remember her.
As Sam heard car doors open and Dixie’s voice calling her name, she felt her body start to get cold. She knew she was moments away from dying. But she still didn’t hear the sound of anyone digging. If what she had just experienced was real, then no one would be digging her grave—she couldn’t die.
This is it, then. Time to find out if I’m crazy and fucking dead… or immortal and just plain fucked.
Sam felt her breath start to still. She felt her body start to go numb. She felt her vision start to dim. She felt her world go silent.
The one thing she didn’t feel, however, was fear.
She wasn’t afraid. Not anymore. Wherever this took her, she was ready.
“Let’s do this…” she whispered to the world.
Sam closed her eyes.
Epilogue
Date: Wednesday, August 26th, 1992
Time: 12:00 a.m.
Location: Ruins of Sam Castille’s Townhome
Uptown New Orleans
“They say Hurricane Andrew will be making landfall soon. No one knows why it got so strong all of a sudden,” said the police officer to Detective Aucoin. “Did Cathy go shopping for the essentials yet?”
“Cathy’s upstate with her mother,” Aucoin said, shrugging. “As for the hurricane? Hell, at this point nothing will surprise me.”
Truth was, Aucoin had the night off and did not want to go out. He was trying to put an unpleasant chapter of his life behind him. He had lost his daughter, was about to lose his wife, and was losing any chance of advancement in his career. Most of it was due to how he had acted, how he had allowed himself to become an ugly, hateful person. He was past trying to make excuses for his behavior. He was ready to accept the costs of his actions.
But he could live with every consequence for just one chance to apologize to Sam. He knew he had done her a great wrong, casting her in a villain’s light when she was just another victim.
So when he heard that there was a fire at Sam’s townhome, he rushed there as fast as he could. Ouellette didn’t object. He was too preoccupied with Rodger’s death from earlier in the evening. Aucoin tried not to think about it. Rodger was a good man and hadn’t deserved to die in such a violent way.
When Aucoin arrived at the scene, he saw the remains of Sam’s townhome, still smoldering. The New Orleans Fire Department was keeping it contained. After briefly chatting with an officer, he spotted his former partner, Dixie, surveying the scene. He quickly approached her. “Hey, Dixie.”
She looked over. “It’s ‘Lieutenant’ now. But hi, Kyle.” She glanced back at the ruins of Sam’s house, clearly preoccupied.
Aucoin nodded and then looked over the wreckage. “What happened?”
Dixie shook her head. “Honestly, I have no idea what happened. Witnesses report they heard her screaming up a storm. Next, there was a massive racket, like she was destroying the townhome from the inside. Then the whole place was on fire. Everyone’s just extremely lucky that the flames blew out into the street, or half of Uptown would be burning right now.” Her expression was dark.
He nodded. “Just like the Castille mansion. Totally destroyed.” He looked back at Dixie. “Is Sam still alive?”
Dixie lowered her head. Her voice strained. “If you can call it that. Reports say she jumped out of the attic to escape the flames. But she’s still been horribly burnt, and most of her bones are broken. Kyle, it’s just like before. She shouldn’t be alive. I’m told it’ll be a miracle if she makes it to the hospital.”
Aucoin clenched his jaw and watched as Dixie’s hair fell over her face. It was obvious that she had grown to like Sam. And once again, Sam was critically injured. Both times before, she had somehow recovered, but he wasn’t sure that she could escape death once more.
If she does survive, she must have the devil himself looking after her.
He could see tears traveling down Dixie’s cheeks. He wanted to comfort her, but he felt he could no longer comfort anyone. Instead, he said, “Anyway, with your permission, Lieutenant… Dixie, I’m going to go see if I can help out.”
Dixie rubbed her forehead and nodded again. “Go for it, Kyle. I need to take a moment and collect my thoughts. This is really too much. I really thought we all had a chance at happiness. Now, Rodger… and Sam…” She turned toward her squad car.
Aucoin watched her leave. Something was changing in Dixie. She wouldn’t be the person she once was anymore. Not after all this.
As he headed toward the remains of the townhome, his thoughts returned to Sam. It was best that he had missed her being taken away. It wouldn’t have been right for him to apologize to a comatose woman. She deserved the chance to tell him to fuck off.
Aucoin felt it would be fitting to hold onto his guilt for the rest of his life.
He reached the smoldering ruins. It looked even worse up close, like a bomb had leveled the place.
A few firefighters were rummaging through the rubble. Aucoin joined them, looking for anything that could shed light on what had happened.
Sam, what kind of demon possessed you to destroy yourself like this?
Aucoin had never felt so bad for someone who wasn’t family. He didn’t know why he cared so much. It might have been guilt, or maybe shame. Or maybe even compassion.
Who was he kidding? I’m just a washed-up old shit with nothing left.
A glint on the driveway caught his eye. He headed over and knelt down, clearing away some ash.
The light glinted off a single item, still very much intact.
A silver pen.
Huh. I wonder what this pen is doing here?
Aucoin reached for the pen, and thunder rumbled in the distance.
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Excerpt
Following is an excerpt from the sequel to A Life Without Fear, Face Behind the Mask, available now.
Prologue
Date: Wednesday, August 26, 1992
Time: 10:00 a.m.
Location: Tulane University, Doctor’s Lounge
Downtown New Orleans
Seated on a leather couch, his back straight as a board, Dr. Lucius Klein sipped on a cup of dark roast coffee. His arms stayed at strict right angles, he stared straight ahead. He was silent, his expression contemplative.
An older doctor with thinning hair sat beside him. “You know, you don’t have to wait for her to wake up. We’ll contact you and your associates directly.”
Dr. Klein peered at him the way a professor would regard an unruly pupil. “With all due respect, Dr. Hoffman, I am not here to visit her.”
Dr. Hoffman rubbed his forehead. “Right, so why are you here again?”
“I’m here to stop someone else from seeing her.”
“Who?”
On the other side of the doorway came the gentle squeak of wheels. Dr. Klein narrowed his eyes. “Here co
mes ze quack now.”
The door opened. In came a gray-haired man in a wheelchair, pushed by a pale woman with both lips and hair like dark blood.
“Dr. Lazarus. You are too late, as usual.” Dr. Klein sipped his coffee quite loudly. “Samantha will be mine.”
Dr. Lazarus glared and then pointed threateningly. “She’s not your property.”
“I beg to differ. I am ze only one who can save her.”
“The only thing you want is to increase your standing with ‘those people,’” said Dr. Lazarus, a fierce look in his eyes.
With a slap to his knees, Dr. Hoffman stood. “And on that note, I’m out. But gentleman, I will say this. Miss Castille is currently my patient, so until either of you get a Judge to say otherwise, she’s my responsibility. We’ll all be lucky if that poor girl isn’t dead by tonight.”
He left with sparing a backwards glance.
Dr. Klein snickered, raising his cup in a mocking toast. “Do you hear zat, Dr. Lazarus? Dear, sweet little Samantha could die soon.”
Clenching his fists, Dr. Lazarus grimaced, and then sat back and sighed. “You are a fool. You can’t possibly understand what’s going on with that girl. She’s cheated death already. She’ll pull through again.”
“Bah, how? Because of ghost und goblins? Preposterous. How you ever became a doctor amazes me.”
His expression darkened, if only for a moment. Then he shook his head. “You’ve never learned to accept that life contains things beyond your understanding. No matter. You can’t have Sam. The world needs her more than you will ever imagine.”
Putting down his cup, Dr. Klein smirked in particularly unfriendly manner. “Oh, I disagree. Und this time, I have the ability to keep you away from Samantha for good.”
“Oh? And how will you do that?”
“With me.”
