Boy in the Mirror

by Robert J. Duperre

  When they were a couple hundred feet from the house, Olivia flipped down her furry hood and turned around to walk backward. “So…‌is anyone gonna talk about what went on in there? I mean, c’mon. That was loco!”

  “Not now, Olive,” said Annette.

  “Why?”

  “Because.”

  “That’s not an answer.” Olivia leveled her gaze at Jacqueline. “I think we deserve an answer.”

  “You wouldn’t believe it,” Jacqueline said softly.

  Neil hurried to the front, matched Olivia’s backward walk stride-for-stride. “We wouldn’t? After what we just saw? Jackie, that was some freakin’ exorcist shit back there! You could tell us you’re Carl Jung reincarnated and we’d believe you.”

  “You don’t have to say anything,” Annette quietly told her.

  “I know,” Jacqueline said, then resigned herself to her fate, pathetic as it was. “I’ll tell you guys once we get inside.”

  Neil clapped his hands. “Deal!”

  Everyone picked up the pace after that, Olivia seeming to have extra pep in her step. Annette frowned in concern, squeezed Jacqueline’s hand. “I’m sorry about Mal,” she whispered. “I’m here for you.”

  Jacqueline’s heart broke all over again.

  There was a boy waiting on the porch when they got back to Mitzy’s house, his head hanging between his knees. Everyone stopped and stared. The boy glanced up, rose to standing, and waved. Jacqueline’s eyes widened, she fell back a step.

  “His face,” she gasped.

  “Jackie, what’s wrong?” Annette asked. “Who’s that?”

  The boy hopped off the porch and sauntered gleefully toward them, smiling. He wore nothing but a long sleeve tee shirt and jeans despite the sub-freezing temperatures, and his face was badly bruised and scraped, but it was the shadows slithering over his skin, hovering above his head like tentacles, and the pair of blazing red eyes staring at her, that made Jacqueline whimper. Neil looked at her like she was nuts.

  They can’t see…‌they can’t see…

  “Who’re you?” Olivia asked the boy.

  “Just a weary traveler looking for his mother,” he said, his voice as horrifying to Jacqueline as his appearance. It was two-toned, a thick layer of deep gurgling on top, a hidden stream of frightened innocence just underneath.

  “That’s a weird thing to say,” said Neil. “What happened to your face?”

  The monster reached for Jacqueline. “I’ve come for you,” it said, eyes boring into her. “Your blood will be my rebirth. Will you give it freely?”

  “You’re creepy,” whispered Ronni.

  Neil scrunched up his face. “Dude, is this a joke? Who the hell is this kid?”

  An engine rumbled, and Jacqueline heard a car pull up and stop. “Jordan?” Annette said, confusion in her voice.

  “Jackie, your aunt sent me!” the senior boy shouted. Jacqueline was too enraptured by the horror in front of her to reply.

  Heedless of the danger, Jacqueline’s friends turned to greet Jordan just as the boy-slash-monster opened his mouth. Countless needle-like pincers tore free from his gums. Jacqueline dropped the photos of her parents, the frames skittering on cold pavement. The boy leapt at her before she could move to defend herself, striking her square in the chest and knocking her backward. The kid bit down on her neck and she screamed, fiery needles of pain surging through her insides.

  Behind Jacqueline, voices rose in panic.

  Jacqueline shoved the kid off her, and his eyes turned skyward, blood dripping down his chin. The shadows wreathing him retreated like smoke sucked into a vent. Jordan Thompson was there in a flash, ramming his shoulder into the kid, sending him careening onto the snow-packed front lawn. Jacqueline gasped and held her sore neck.

  Jordan crouched in a fighting stance, fists out before him, while the kid in the snow began crying. He sat up on his knees and stared at his hands, eyes wide with shock. “Where am I?” he shrieked. “I want my mo—”

  The kid vomited blood, silencing his screams. The Otakus shouted and huddled together behind Jacqueline. Jordan dropped his fists. “What the hell?” he said.

  The kid pitched forward, body bulging, skin stretching until it was nearly see-through. Veins burst beneath his flesh, blooming reddish-purple welts. His howl was like the pleading cries of a million orphans being lowered into a flaming pit at once.

  With a sickening rip, the kid’s body split open down the spine. Bones snapped, blood gushed from the gaps in the flesh. Claws then tore through those gaps, ripping and tearing. The kid’s jaw disintegrated, and in its place appeared a pair of glowing eyes set into a black face slicked with red. Jacqueline’s heart pounded, her fingertips twitched, and she breathed in short bursts as a monstrosity birthed itself right in front of her.

  The last of a once-human shell slid to the snow with a splat, revealing a hunkering gnome of a beast. Its arms were curled around its head, and it slowly pulled them away. The shoulders were thick with muscle, its arms ending in clawed hands. Its reverse-jointed legs quivering like a newborn calf’s. The face that stared out at her was skeletal, with a hollow for a nose and two long tusks pointing straight upward, rising above those glowing red eyes. The entirety of it was covered in glistening viscera. The thing opened its mouth inhumanly wide and roared.

  The Otakus freaked out, blubbering and screaming, and the demonic thing let out another roar and stepped out of the bloody puddle that’d birthed it. Jordan braced himself, obviously terrified but not freezing up. Jacqueline admired him greatly for it, and in a strange moment of clarity realized that she too still had her wits about her.

  The creature stepped onto the driveway, hooves clomping on icy blacktop. Its eyes were focused on Jacqueline and Jacqueline alone, as if no one else existed. The thing reached out its claws and went to charge her, only to be grabbed from behind by Jordan. The strong young man tossed the thing over his shoulder with a grunt, then straddled the beast and rained punches down on its face, knuckles coming back bloodied.

  A flailing, clawed hand sliced open Jordan’s coat, gashing the flesh beneath. He wailed in pain, but continued to punch the thing. Jacqueline edged closer. Beneath Jordan’s assault, the creature stared at her, grinning through its tusks.

  A hoofed foot struck the back of Jordan’s head, snapping it forward. Jordan brought up his arm in self defense as the beast swiped at him. Sharp claws tore easily through his sleeve, blood gushed from his forearm. He cried out and fell backward. The monster hovered over him as he clutched his ruined arm, its maw opening wide, ready to tear the flesh from his face.

  Seeing Jordan in danger broke something within Jacqueline; the red rage she’d felt when Papa Gelick tried to molest her returned with a vengeance. She balled her fists and took a step forward.

  “Get down!” an adult’s voice shouted.

  Jacqueline was run into from behind just as the night lit up with bright flashes and deafening explosions. She lifted her head, saw the beast stagger, bits of its body torn away. One of its tusks splintered, a gaping hole opened in its shoulder. The thing wheeled around, barreling onto the snow. It leapt at the house, crashing through the bay window and disappearing inside.

  Jacqueline looked behind her, saw Annette panting as she lay on her legs. The other three Otaku were on the ground as well, and behind them, holding a smoking shotgun, was Mr. Mancuso. The man rushed up to Jordan and knelt down, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to sop up the blood.

  Jacqueline heard the creature smashing through the living room. She glanced over at Jordan, who rolled and moaned as Mr. Mancuso worked on him. Nothing made sense, but she knew she didn’t have time to think about it too much. She scrambled to her feet and rushed toward the house despite the protests of her friends.

  She barreled into the living room and there the creature stood, at the end of a trail of blood and slime. It turned to face her. Jacqueline felt power she never knew she had before build up inside her. This wasn’t the same as Papa
Gelick; it wasn’t the same as with the killer in the park. This was more real, more dangerous. She lifted her hands; electricity sparked at her fingertips.

  The creature opened its mouth and a long gray tongue snaked out. Jacqueline charged without care for her own life. She threw a fist, and when she connected, the beast’s head snapped to the side as if struck by a hammer. It crashed into the entertainment center.

  Jacqueline grabbed a lamp from the corner and hurled it with all her might. The lamp smashed into the thing’s face and exploded. Oozing cuts opened up all over leathery flesh. The thing snarled, snapped its jaws.

  Girl and beast circled each other. Jacqueline had never felt more powerful in all her life. Somehow she knew, just knew, that she’d kill the hellish thing. She’d rip it limb from limb and eat its heart, and then she’d march around Indentia with its head slung around her neck for the whole world to see.

  Indentia?

  She paused, confused by the strange thoughts. Then the front door opened and her friends came rushing in, holding snow shovels, further distracting her. Jacqueline’s burning rage faded ever so slightly.

  The creature barreled into her, claws slashing, tusks clacking. Jacqueline held on for dear life as they tumbled to the ground, avoiding the thing’s talons, her heavy parka getting torn to shreds.

  They rolled from side to side, locked too close to do much damage. Jacqueline spotted a jagged shard of glass on the floor a few feet away. She chanced to release one arm from around the monster and reached for the shard, but it was out of arm’s reach. Please, she thought, and the glass slid a short distance and hopped up into her palm. She made a fist around it, the sharp edge slicing her fingers, and drove the shard as hard as she could into the monster’s side.

  It arched its back and howled at the ceiling, then fell off her. Jacqueline rolled away, panting. Her back was wet from being gouged, but she felt no pain, just like she couldn’t feel the puncture marks in her neck any longer. She got onto her hands and knees and looked on as the creature yanked the shard from its flesh and glowered at her. It took a menacing step forward, one of its hooves slicing through the collapsed leg of the coffee table. Jacqueline drew back her arm, ready to pummel it, somehow confident that she could.

  Just then, another form came streaking through the already-smashed bay window. The dark blur careened into the monster and sent it tumbling. Whatever this new thing was, it moved quickly, almost too fast for Jacqueline to see clearly.

  The two combatants were locked in a struggle atop the destroyed remnants of Mitzy’s entertainment center. The air filled with animalistic bawls and growls. Jacqueline inched forward, getting closer to the clash. She could see the newcomer now—a man wearing jeans and a denim jacket, his long black hair flying around him as he pummeled the creature. The man leaned forward like he was going to give the beast a kiss, then snapped his head back, tearing the flesh from the thing’s neck. Blood, black and diseased, spurted onto the carpet. The light in the monster’s eyes dimmed and went out. It fell still.

  The man turned to face her, strips of flesh dangling from his chin, and Jacqueline gasped. It wasn’t a man she saw, but another monster, this one with bumps all over its forehead and a mouth full of sharp teeth. Its ears were pointed, its nose like a bat’s. Yellow eyes with reptilian slits stared out from beneath a distended brow. Jacqueline hurriedly backed away, readying herself for the attack sure to come.

  The new monster rose to its feet, shoulders slumped. It shook its head and the bumps disappeared, as did the fangs and the pushed-up nose, revealing the slender, mournful, blood-drenched face of a young man. There was no mirage around him, no hidden evil, as if the monster in him had up and disappeared. He turned his back to her and stood, feet shoulder width apart, staring down at his kill.

  “What a freaking mess,” a familiar voice said.

  Jacqueline spun around. Her friends were all lingering in the foyer, looking on with whitened and gaping faces. Aunt Mitzy was among them, arms braced against the doorway. She worked her way into the house, looking this way and that, shaking her head as she took in the wreck of her living room.

  Mr. Mancuso and Andrea stepped into the house after her, Jordan leaning on them. They guided the injured boy toward the chair in the corner. Neil, Olivia, and Ronni moved aside for them, a comical lack of understanding showing on each of their faces.

  Mitzy wandered across the living room. Up close, Jacqueline could now see that her aunt’s face was bruised, her lips swollen. Mitzy didn’t look at her as she approached the denim-wearing, long-haired man who had, only moments before, looked like a monster. Mitzy placed her hand on the man’s shoulder and stared down at the dead beast.

  “Which one is this?” she asked.

  “Tripura,” the man said.

  Mitzy sighed. “Not the right prophet. That’s good, right?’

  The man’s shoulders rose and fell once.

  “Edwin, do me a favor and clean up the mess out front, okay? We need to be quick about this. The cleaning supplies are in the trunk.”

  She handed him a set of keys, which he took. He nodded and headed for the smashed bay window, his eyes flicking in Jacqueline’s direction just before he leapt back outside.

  Mitzy shook her head, kicked the dead thing in the head, and then walked to another free chair, swept debris off it, and slumped down, head in her hands. Jacqueline stared at her, then at Annette, who’d sidled up beside her friend. The white-haired girl shrugged. So did Jacqueline.

  Mitzy stared at her niece for the first time since she’d entered the house. “Is it too late to wish you happy birthday?” she asked.

  Jacqueline just stared at her.

  “I thought not. Oh well.”

  “Mitzy, what’s going on?” Jacqueline asked, her voice hoarse.

  Her aunt frowned as she glanced down at the dead beast. “There’s something you need to know, sweetie. Monsters…‌they’re real.”

  “No shit,” Jacqueline said, and somehow, she laughed.

  EPILOGUE

  All was quiet in the basement of Coppington mansion. The constant creaking of the huge house’s shifting boards, borne from decades of neglect, was silent. Even the rats stayed away.

  A brisk wind blew through the basement, originating from nowhere and everywhere at once. The wreckage of the standing mirror shuddered and shook. Tiny bits of wood, glass, and steel bounced along the dirt floor, disturbed from their slumber by a ghostly vibration.

  Five feet above the wreckage, a pinprick of light formed. That pinprick grew to the size of fist, then a dinner plate, then as big as a person. It became a spinning blue disk, wisps of cloud and shadow spiraling inside its shimmering surface. The revolutions grew frenzied, whipping up a current so intense that the debris beneath it scattered. The pile of junk furniture sitting twenty feet away was caught in its gale, old boards shoved back against the stone wall, crunching and shattering. The brass frames of antique lamps bent. The floorboards above clacked, raining down dust and grime.

  A high-pitched whine charged the air, and the naked body of a man fell through the spinning blue disk. He struck the ground hard and bounced, crying out in pain. The portal that had been sealed by the mirror that had guarded it for over a century festered and weakened, wisps of cloud and bits of stardust spurting from the remaining tendrils of light, until the gateway collapsed in on itself and the basement was cast into darkness once more.

  The fallen man groaned, aching all over. For a moment he feared his every bone was broken, but when he tried to move, his body still worked. He gritted his teeth and rose to sitting, wrapping his arms around his slick, naked body as he shivered. It was cold here. So cold.

  “I feared you wouldn’t make it,” spoke a voice in the darkness.

  “Well, I have,” the fallen man said. “It’s freezing. Do you have a blanket?”

  “Of course, my Prophet.”

  A match was struck and a candle lit, bathing the basement in dim light. The shadowy figure of anoth
er man approached, this one tall, with a head of slicked-back black hair. The man’s eyes were opened wide in reverence. He reached out with a heavy down comforter. The fallen man wrapped it around himself, bathing in its blessed warmth.

  “Is everything in order?” the fallen man asked.

  The second man nodded. “It is. You are here. The first trial is complete. The second is in motion.”

  “And our Covenant?”

  “Weak,” the second man said, inclining his head as if in shame. “Our numbers are few. I have called out to the others, requesting support.”

  “And will they come to us?”

  At that, the second man grinned. “They will have no choice, my Prophet. None can deny the glory of Khayrat.”

  “Good.” The fallen man winced at the pain in his spine. “Do you have what I need?”

  “Yes, my Prophet. The box is waiting for you.”

  “Good. Now if you would, please help me up. I’m weak from my journey. Passing between worlds is…‌tiring.”

  “Yes, my Prophet.”

  “Alexander, please stop calling me that,” the fallen man said. “I have a name. You know it. Use it.”

  “My apologies, Yusef. It will not happen again.”

  “Good.”

  Alexander Cottard helped him rise to his feet. The fallen man felt so weak. It hurt just to breathe. Hopefully, his recovery wouldn’t take long. There was much he had to do.

  He stumbled along, his arm wrapped around the High Prince of Khayrat’s neck. The light from Alexander’s candle reflected in another mirror buried in a pile of discarded junk. He glanced at his reflection, at his head of sliver hair, his gray eyes, his slender nose. He almost didn’t recognize himself.

  Mal couldn’t help but smile. “It’s good to be back.”