Face Behind the Mask

by Leo King

  “I said, begone!”

  Finally, with its screech turning into a whine, it vanished like steam in a shower.

  She stood there and breathed deeply. I… I did it.

  Michael straightened his tie. Then he walked by and ruffled her hair. “Good job, Alexia. See you around, OK?”

  She grabbed his jacket. “Please, don’t disappear.” Her messy hair covered her face, and a few tears dripped down the strands.

  “I have to go.”

  “Why?” She looked up at him, crying. “Why can’t you stay with me?”

  Sighing ever so softly, he pulled her into an embrace. His hug was like a spray of cool mist, his arms partially going through her. “Alexia, I’m dead.”

  Then he knelt down and gazed into her eyes. Already he was fading. “It takes a lot of power to do what I just did. I could only do it because of Sam, and partly because a lot of energy is gathering. Whatever the reason, don’t get used to me to appearing like this. It’s a struggle sometimes, keeping my sense of self and my sense of ethics. Ghosts are sad, lonely, often angry beings. I’m doing all I can not to become that.”

  He wiped away her tears. “But I’m always around you. When you close your eyes and concentrate on me, I’ll be there.”

  A lump had formed in her throat. With effort, she swallowed it. “What if I can’t feel you?”

  With a smile, he tapped just above her heart. “Then you’re not using this.”

  Standing up, he said, “For now, I need you to be strong and get those children to safety. One night, when I can manage it, we’ll talk again. A nice, long conversation.”

  She nodded and put away her swords. Then she hugged him one last time.

  “Good bye, Big Brother!” She knew that she sounded like a little girl again, but she didn’t care. “I love you!”

  He stroked the back of her head and then vanished in her arms.

  His last words lingered like mist. “I love you, too, Sis.”

  “Alexia, I’m here!” Aucoin burst through the door, gun out and ready to fight.

  Alexia, who was by the children, said, “Oh, hey, Kyle. Give me a hand with Eugene here?”

  Picking the boy up, he regarded the dusty residue from the spirits in disbelief. “I… did you do this? By yourself?”

  She picked up Alice. “No. I had help.”

  “From who?”

  With a joyous laugh, she blushed. “The greatest guy I’ll ever know.”

  Chapter 53

  Face Behind the Mask

  Date: Sunday, June 15, 1997

  Time: 11:01 p.m.

  Location: Deepwater Olympus

  Somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico

  Sam quietly gazed upon the Oracle’s face. Part of her couldn’t believe it, and yet part of her had always known.

  “Ouellette. So you’re the one behind everything.”

  He dropped the mask. “Behind everything? As if I purposefully masterminded this ridiculous crisis we’re facing? No, I don’t think so, Sam. It doesn’t quite work that way.”

  She flexed her arms and prepared to strike. His posture, on the other hand, was relaxed and unassuming. It was rather disarming.

  “But you’re the one who introduced Vincent to the tkeeus, right?” she asked.

  “I am.”

  “And you’re the Oracle who has been manipulating the Knight Priory, right?”

  “Yes.”

  She scratched the back of her head. “So, how does this not make you the mastermind?”

  He folded his arms, sighing. “Because, you stupid girl, you’re acting as if I’m the villain of this story, when I’ve been trying to set this whole thing right from the beginning!”

  The conviction behind his response made her pause. “OK, let’s start this over. First off, are you fused, like I am?”

  “Yes. I am fused, but to a god of the African pantheon.”

  Placing her hands on her hips, she said, “Right. Who, then? Unless that’s a secret, too.”

  With a shrug, he said, “Well, here’s no reason to keep anything from you, not at this point. He is named Orunmila, and he is the god of wisdom, divination, and foresight.”

  That cleared a few things up. “Hence the whole Oracle thing and the summoning of ogouns and whatever, right?”

  “Exactly,” he said.

  “OK, so why did you introduce Vincent to the tkeeus, knowing the damage it would cause?”

  Now he rolled his eyes. “I can only interpret prophecy, not see the future.” But then he sighed. “However, you want the truth about the tkeeus, so I will tell you. It’s a bit of a story, though.”

  She relaxed her posture. “I don’t have anywhere to go. Spill it.”

  Leaning back against one of the remaining pillars, he snorted in response. “Ah, Castille women, so sarcastic. Very well, here is what happened. You recall that I served as an officer in the big war, correct?”

  She assumed he meant the Vietnam War. She nodded.

  “My tour eventually took me to Guinea in West Africa. It wasn’t a great war, it was a great mess. I had already survived several dangerous situations, enough to earn a medal, but I was young and hungry for glory. The perfect setup for the gods to rain perdition on me.”

  “So, why were you in Guinea? And how does the tkeeus figure into this?” She was still stuck on why he went from being stationed in Vietnam to Africa.

  “I’m getting there, Sam. I went to Guinea because of the campaigns. I had aspirations of becoming a colonel, or even a general. But my lust for glory was my undoing. While out on patrol one evening, my platoon was ambushed by enemy forces. It was a bloodbath so brutal that by the time it was over, you could swim in the guts of my men. I, myself, was injured. Badly. I couldn’t even feel my lower body. I thought for sure that I was going to die.”

  For the moment, she was enraptured in his story, not too dissimilar from how Vincent used to entrance her. “So what happened?”

  “Some Yoruba priests found me clinging to life, and they took me to a holy place. There, they burned a pinkish substance, the tkeeus, and prayed for the local spirits to heal me. What they did not expect, however, was that a god would show up instead.”

  “And that was Orunmila?”

  “Yes. He was impressed by my will. He told me that he wanted to travel to distant lands, to learn of other pantheons. He had come to believe that the world was sliding into peril and wanted perspective on that. In exchange, he’d offer me his wisdom. And so we forged a pact, and just like that, I was a god among men. I spent a long time in Guinea, learned what it meant to be a pact-holder, and, more importantly, learned the secret of the tkeeus.”

  Sam harrumphed. “So, what is it? The tkeeus.”

  Slowly, Ouellette walked to the ruined altar, never looking away. “It’s a compound created through dried fruit. Mango, papaya, kiwi, and such. It can be inhaled or burned as incense. But also included is an enzyme that comes from the blood of a living god.”

  “You mean the secret of the tkeeus is the blood of a Fused?”

  “Exactly.”

  With a deep exhale, she started walking around the room. “And you brought it over from Africa.”

  “Correct. I brought over a sample. But once here, I made more. You used some of it the night you killed Violet, and Rodger used it to fight Dallas. Pure tkeeus is very powerful. Then the Knight Priory tried to synthesize it for their experiments. You saw how well that worked out.”

  Remembering what she had fought over the past year while working for GEIST—the hordes of test subjects and tkeeus-infused soldiers who had been driven insane—she shuddered. “Well, at least we know it can’t be properly replicated. But now I’m curious. Are there other Fused?”

  “Yes, but only a handful. People don’t believe in the high spirits—the polytheistic gods, if you will—like they used to. I’m not claiming that there isn’t a Christian, Hebrew, or Muslim God, mind you. There are mysteries out there that even the wisest cannot fathom. But high spi
rits have existed for as long as there’s been a spirit world, and the Baron Samedis, the Orunmilas, the Thors, the Apollos, the Madame Bridgettes… all of them—they just don’t receive the belief, the energy, or the will of mortals as they once did. So fewer and fewer of them have a reason to make pacts with us. The one other pact-holder I knew, the one whose blood created the tkeeus that saved my life, died many years ago by his own hand. He was just tired of living.”

  It was a lot for Sam to take in, the idea that high spirits, such as the high loa, relied on people’s belief. But it made sense. A part of her just knew that everything Ouellette said was true. “So why did you share the tkeeus with Vincent?” She had to know.

  “To save your life.”

  That was not the answer she was expecting. “What?”

  Ouellette tapped his chest. “You inherited your mother’s heart. A sickly, weak heart. After you collapsed at age five, Vincent became anxious over the possibility of losing you. At the time, I was… close to him. I even helped the old Knight Priory with some of their benevolence projects such as St. Jude Hospital. I wanted to spare him a pain no parent should suffer—the pain of losing a child. So during my tour of the Vietnam War, I returned to Guinea and learned how to make the tkeeus.”

  Now Sam was confused. She thought he had gone to Guinea the first time during the Vietnam War.

  “Using the alias of ‘Oracle,’” he said. “I tested it in Atlanta to compel a powerful and dangerous spirit to come forth.”

  “Lord Dooley?” She remembered that from the Alexia Report.

  He nodded. “Yes. The tkeeus makes it absurdly simple to summon spirits, bind them to an object, or have them either ride or possess another. Lord Dooley couldn’t resist. To show my thanks to the people of Druid Hills, I bound it into a sacrificial stone and sealed it away.”

  “But then he got free and murdered dozens.”

  With a disgusted grunt, he said, “I am so tired of people throwing that back in my face. The damn Lullwater Society overdeveloped the land and weakened the seal. That’s why it’s better for the secrets of spirits and magic to be kept out of the common man’s hand.”

  “I agree, but for a different reason,” she said. “Namely, because this shit hurts people. So after Atlanta, you went back to New Orleans and showed Vincent how the tkeeus worked. That’s when he possessed me with Marinette?”

  “Yes. Which leads us to the nightmarish life you’ve suffered these past thirty-five years. I never could’ve imagined that Vincent would do the things he did, especially discover and perform a forbidden ritual to make you unkillable. Had I known he was a sociopath who just needed a push to start murdering, I would have never enabled him.”

  Again she looked down, unable to hide the bitterness. “And I’d likely be dead.”

  “Very likely,” he said. “But life is not fair. Michael. Rodger. Need I say more?”

  Her brow furrowed, and she said nothing, absorbing all that she had learned. The sounds of battle had long since ceased. GEIST had won, and it was now truly down to her and Ouellette. But now that she knew the truth about him, she wasn’t sure if she should hate him, forgive him, or what. Nothing was certain anymore.

  Finally, she said, “So, tell me why you’ve been supporting the Knight Priory all these years? Especially with all the evil they’ve done.”

  He rubbed his forehead. “You’re just like your father sometimes. You only see what’s in front of you. Look, the original Knight Priory had its flaws, but they were good people. My people. After they fell apart, I hung up my Oracle robe until the shit with Dallas started and the new Knight Priory began making waves.”

  “Did you know that Dallas was the new Bourbon Street Ripper?” she asked. “Or what the silver pen did?”

  “Of course not. If I had known, I would have done something.” Then he frowned. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t keep information from people like Rodger, Michael, Dixie, or Aucoin—good cops I really respect. A few times, I’m sure I even slipped. But I kept up my cover and donned my mask in the shadows to infiltrate the group. That’s when I learned about the synthetic tkeeus. And once you told me about Vincent and Aucoin told me about the pen, I used my connections to find a way into the crossroads.”

  “In the grimoire, right?”

  “Yes. Russell’s book is more than a history of the Knight Priory. It contains centuries of spells and rituals from three different pantheons. The ritual to make you unkillable is there, as is the ritual to allow living beings to enter the spirit world.”

  Sam slid down to the ground. “Now I get it. Everything you’ve done has been to undo your mistakes. Guilt and shame have been eating you alive for decades, haven’t they?”

  Ouellette choked, speaking barely above a whisper. “More than you can imagine.”

  With an exhale, she stood up. “This has to end. We have to enter the spirit world and destroy Vincent.”

  Nodding, he locked eyes with her. “Yes. It’s normally nearly impossible for physical bodies to enter. We’ll have a very limited time to destroy him, and it’s possible neither of us will survive.”

  She knew that much already. Smiling softly, she asked, “All right, so what do we need?”

  “The silver pen.”

  “Right here,” she said, holding up its container.

  “And the lifeblood of the youngest Castille generation.”

  Those words hit her like a freight train. She stumbled back, staring. “What. Did. You. Say?” She felt her teeth bare like fangs.

  His face was pained. “Sam, you have to sacrifice your children in order for this to work. I’m sorry, there is no other—”

  “Like hell you’re killing my children!” Her voice tore out so hard, the stone pillars in the room cracked.

  His face expressionless, he continued staring. “I could find no other way.”

  “Fuck this!” She clenched her fists, her muscles tightening and enlarging.

  “Sam, please, don’t get violent. If there was any other way, I—”

  “You shut up!” she shouted, snarling at him. “You have no idea what you’re asking me to do. You have to be goddamned insane. You wouldn’t know what it’s like to sentence your own kids to die, you piece of—”

  “I know exactly what it’s like!” Now he yelled loudly. Her ears stung, and she was pushed back. With a loud crashing sound, the wall behind her gave way and collapsed.

  They glared at each other, their faces red.

  Taking a single step toward him, she asked, “What the hell do you mean?”

  As if answering her threat, he stomped toward her until they were nose-to-nose. “I know exactly how awful it is to sentence your child to die. I did it myself years ago, and it’s haunted me every day of my damn life.” His body quivered as much as hers.

  Staring into his eyes, she saw how unhinged he was becoming. But beyond that, she saw a deep sadness and regret that seemed to consume him.

  “Who did you kill?” she asked.

  “My firstborn son.”

  “You mean Jason? I thought Dallas kill—“

  “No, not Jason.”

  “Then who?”

  Ouellette backed off, sighing again, his brow tight with a lifetime of worry. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Every pact-holder gives up something. I gave up my true identity so that no living person would ever recognize me. I lost my life, my family, and my legacy when I accepted Orunmila’s power.”

  Watching the conflicted torment on his face, Sam felt a chill descend. Maybe it was Bridgette, but something told her that he was living more than just a double life as Oracle and police commander.

  “Who are you… really?”

  He took a deep breath and then said, “My real name… is Louis Castille. Vincent was my son.”

  Chapter 54

  Sins of the Father

  Date: Sunday, June 15, 1997

  Time: 11:11 p.m.

  Location: Deepwater Olympus

  Somewhere in the Gulf of M
exico

  Her shoulders and jaw dropping at the same time, Sam stared blankly at Ouellette. His often strange behavior was suddenly reasonable. From his compulsion to help Vincent with the tkeeus, to the guilt of sending him to the electric chair, to his dutiful feelings about cleaning up the Knight Priory—it all made sense if he was a Castille.

  After a long silence, she pointed at him. “You’re Vincent’s father?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  The she pointed at herself. “You’re my grandfather?”

  “That is correct.”

  She leaned on the altar. “This is going to take a second to sink in.”

  But he kept talking. “I left New Orleans to serve in the First World War when Vincent and Gladys were small children and Marguerite was just a baby. I was critically injured in the West African Theater. That’s when I became fused, as you call it. When I returned, because of my pact, no one was able to recognize me. So I reinvented myself as Louis Ouellette. The hardest part was forging documentation to establish a lineage worthy of joining the Knight Priory. Soon, I was working with my son and daughters to run New Orleans. It was hard at first, being so close and them not knowing me, but…”

  He leaned next to her. “… at least I got to be near them.”

  Sam recoiled. Part of her wanted to call him a liar and slap his face. But the more she thought about, the more his claim appeared logical. Once she accepted that Louis Ouellette was actually Louis Castille, his entire involvement with her family fit into place.

  “Then the second time you went back to Guinea, when you learned the secret of the tkeeus, was during the Vietnam War?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Louis Castille was a veteran. Louis Ouellette was not. You can’t imagine how easy warfare is when you’re a god. But this time, I had Orunmila’s wisdom. I went there not for glory, but to understand human nature.”

  “How did that work out for you?”

  “Not as well as I had hoped. Even with wisdom, I saw that one man could not change the world. So I thought of changing one group at a time. That’s why I originally learned the secret of the tkeeus. To make the Knight Priory aware of the pantheons—to enlighten them. Once they were aware, we could use that power to bring harmony to New Orleans, then Louisiana, then the Gulf South, and so on. One region at a time.”