Once a cop, always a cop
, he thought.
They all stood there a moment, unsure of what to do as their hair and eyelids collected more of the icy flakes.
Steven walked over and hit the control for the garage, then walked out as it started to close. “Let’s go inside,” he said. “I don’t want to be out here.”
“Fine with me,” George said. “I’m freezing my ass off.”
They began to file in, Stan hanging back to look at Jimmy. “I thought you’d try to stop me,” he said.
“I had to see.”
“Seems like a big chance to take.”
“Perhaps,” Jimmy said, “but The Faceless One wants the boy. Otherwise, he would have let this man wear the mask, become the gateway.”
“Why a little kid?” Stan asked.
“Come on inside,” Jimmy said, “before we freeze our asses off, as George so eloquently put it.”
Stan nodded and went in. Jimmy paused for just a moment. It felt good to be in snow again. He hadn’t seen much since he had gone to Golden Summer, just lots of rain, and rain was a piss-poor substitute for snow. He liked the way it felt, the chill that almost felt hot on your skin, and the fresh newness of it. It caressed his upturned face, old friends at last reunited. And snow was always a little more enjoyable, knowing that a warm house and hot coffee were just steps away.
He saw movement from the corner of his eye and turned.
A dark otter was moving up the hill away from the house, its deep blackness a violent contrast to the snow coating the slope. It carried something limp and bloody in its jaws. It looked at Jimmy with intelligence, then moved over the hill with its kill.
Jimmy touched the spiral scar on his chest, which burned with a fierce heat.
* * *
Inside, Liz had put Bobby down for a nap. The boy had not seen what had become of Jake Sparks but had been panicked both by his ordeal and by the reaction of his parents to what had happened. She had given him some hot milk and he was now sleeping although Liz was sure his nightmares were going to return.
Steven had turned on the television, and several stations were breaking in with news of the freak snowstorm in La Crescenta. The snow was falling for a radius of three miles, even though there was no storm front and it was the height of summer. One man standing in his yard as kids sledded down the sidewalk joked that it was a sign of the Apocalypse, which Steven found ironic.
Jimmy was troubled that The Faceless One was manipulating the weather, albeit in a restricted area. The fact that the physical world was bending to his will meant that he was growing in power. He was glad the phenomenon was not restricted to the Slater property. That would have brought newspeople and curiosity seekers, religious zealots and hucksters. If they were going to deal with this threat, they needed some privacy. At present, they were just one of
many houses struck by a freak blizzard.
The adults gathered at the kitchen table. Steven put a new filter and grounds into the coffeemaker. They were all still shaken from the recent confrontation with Sparks, and the image of his head bald and faceless would rise unbidden in their minds.
Stan looked at Jimmy. “He’ll try again, won’t he? The Faceless One.”
Jimmy nodded. He looked at Steven. “The man outside. I take it you knew him?”
Steven flipped on the coffeemaker, which made a low hiss. He glanced over at Liz, then at Jimmy. “His name was Jake Sparks. He worked with my brother on digs.”
“From what he said,” Jimmy went on, “he had planned to take the mask of The Faceless One but your brother got it first.”
“Another guy … Tully, he accused my brother of being a thief.”
Jimmy shook his head. “From what I can see, your brother was a hero. He tried to keep the mask out of everyone’s reach. Unfortunately, the charms he used were not powerful enough to keep The Faceless One at bay.”
“And now anyone who touches the mask dies,” George said.
“Except you,” Steven said, looking at Stan.
Stan shrugged. “I can’t tell you why.” He thought a moment. “Maybe because I wanted to die.”
“I don’t think so,” Jimmy said. “Magic is like physics, in a way. There are laws that must be obeyed. The fact that such laws take the form of spells or incantations or charms is irrelevant. Anyone who touches the mask, even carries it, is fated to die horribly, in some manner that reaches the very core of their fears. Anyone chosen to wear the mask will channel The Faceless One, in effect becoming him. You,” he said to Stan, “were left to face prison and possibly death, a disgrace to your profession. The Faceless One knew this was what you feared most. And yet, by leaving you alive, he seems to have forfeited the right to kill you himself.”
“So I could leave here and be untouched?” Stan asked.
“It’s only a theory,” Jimmy said. “I wouldn’t risk any of us going beyond the barrier I have erected.”
“How long do we wait?” asked Liz. “We have enough food for a few days, but after that—”
“George and I took the liberty of bringing some supplies with us,” Jimmy said.
“So what, we just sit here and wait until the thing gets tired and leaves?” Stan asked.
“No, that won’t happen,” Jimmy said. “I need to think this through, consult a spirit guide. The Faceless One was caught before; it must be feasible to do it again.”
“What about … what about Jake Sparks?” Steven asked.
“Leave him for now,” Stan advised. “The snow will keep him for the coroner when we
decide to turn him over.”
“Maybe we should bury him,” Liz said.
Stan shook his head. “Too risky. Somebody might see you. And sooner or later, the cops looking for me will end up here.”
“Why?” Liz asked.
“Because it all started with Daniel Slater’s death as far as the cops are concerned. Sooner or later, they’ll come here asking if you’ve talked to me, here or in New York.”
“I just hate to think of that … corpse in our yard.” Liz shuddered.
“I’m glad the bastard’s dead,” Steven said.
They looked at him. Rage and sorrow played across his face. Steven twisted a napkin in his hands. “All of this is his fault—from Daniel’s death to the danger to Bobby and all the shit in between. From what I heard about how Danny died, Sparks got off easy.”
George nodded. “Amen to that,” he said.
Bobby called from his bedroom. His voice was high and scared. “Mommy!”
Liz got up to check on the boy, and Steven joined her.
George got up to pour them all some coffee. Stan looked at Jimmy. “So how do you know all this?”
“My uncle was shaman of our village. I even confronted The Faceless One, once.”
“Really?”
“Yes, although I never touched the mask. I was seven years old.”
“Jesus,” Stan said, as George set a mug of steaming coffee before him. Stan looked at Jimmy. “So, where were you when this thing got stolen from your village?”
“In a retirement home in Seattle.”
“How’d you end up there?”
Jimmy and George looked at Stan, and his expression grew rueful.
“Right. Stupid question. Anyone from your village who can give us some advice?”
“This story was never spread among the people. The elders thought it best to keep it among themselves.”
“And the elders?”
“Wiped out, along with the entire village.”
Stan nodded, as if this was the answer he expected. He looked into the coffee mug, the steam gently caressing his face. “Maybe that secrecy wasn’t such a good thing,” he said at last.
“You’re probably right,” said Jimmy, looking out at the tangerine trees covered in snow.
Dinner that night was macaroni and cheese with frankfurters, which was one of Bobby’s favorites. As Liz had feared, the boy had had a nightmare during his nap but it was about her and Steven losing him at Disneyland. When she told Steven this, he had been relieved because it seemed like an ordinary nightmare and not something sent by The Faceless One. If Jimmy was right, the thing would now try to woo them out of the protected confines of their property.
They ate, and everyone pretended it was a treat for the child’s sake. Steven had warned him not to go outside for any reason. If he was to see Mr. Whiskers or any animal again, he should tell Mommy and Daddy first. Jimmy was the only one not having solid food, instead having a cup of tomato soup and bottled water. Bobby was curious as to how he could pass on such a delicious meal, and Jimmy just explained that he was on a diet. The boy had shrugged comically and eaten his own dinner with gusto.
The news was filled with stories about the freak blizzard and meteorologists were hard-pressed to explain it. Outside the three-mile radius, the temperatures were still in the high nineties.
The power had failed twice, the first time for ten minutes, the second time for an hour and a half. Steven brought in a couple of camp lanterns, figuring he would open a window a crack if need be, for ventilation. As he was attaching a propane canister to one of the lanterns, the power went out again, plunging the house into a grayness that was neither day nor night. Bobby started to whimper, and Liz pulled him up onto her lap.
“Are you scared of the dark?” Jimmy asked him.
“Not usually,” Bobby replied, and Jimmy thought that was a good answer.
“You know, a long time ago, people had no lights or electricity. They had no candles or even fire,” Jimmy said.
“What did they do?” Bobby asked.
“Well, the world was very dark because there was a chief who wanted to keep the sun, moon, and stars all for himself. He kept them in beautifully carved boxes inside his home. So the world was very dark, and the people who lived outside his house were sad because there never was a sunny day or moonlit night. There were no stars to count or see the pictures they made.”
Bobby’s eyes were wide, thinking of a chief so selfish he kept all the light in the world
for himself.
“What happened?” he asked.
“Well, Raven decided to help the people. Among my people, Raven is what we call a Trickster. Do you know what a Trickster is?”
Bobby thought. “Someone who plays tricks? Like the Joker on Batman?”
Jimmy smiled. “That’s exactly right. But unlike the Joker, Raven plays tricks so Men can learn from their foolishness. He teases people, but he looks out for them, too.”
“Why does he do that?”
Jimmy thought for a moment. “I guess because, even though people disappoint him, he still loves them.”
“Why does he love them?”
“I’m not sure,” Jimmy said. “I guess it’s because he knows there are good people in the world, like you and your mommy and daddy.”
“And you and George, and Stan.”
Jimmy nodded. Stan looked away, pleased but ashamed to be included in such company.
“Anyway,” Jimmy continued, “in those days Raven was snowy white, not dark black like he is now. Raven knew the chief would never let him into his house. So he followed the chief’s daughter to a watering hole. She carried one of the stars that belonged to her father in a lantern so that she could see.”
“Did Raven steal the star?” Bobby asked.
Jimmy shook his head. “He knew the people needed more than one star to see by. He disguised himself as a pine needle and slipped into a cup of water she drank from. She swallowed him without even knowing it.”
“Why did he do that?” Bobby asked.
“So that she would have a baby, a baby that was really Raven in disguise.”
Bobby snorted. “That’s not how you have babies,” he declared.
“And what would you know about that?” Liz asked, glancing at Steven.
“Mommies go to the hospital and the doctor puts a blanket over them, then a baby comes out, like a magic trick. I see it on TV all the time,” he said sagely. Liz nodded.
“Well, that’s pretty close,” she said, smiling.
Bobby looked at Jimmy.
“Well, Raven didn’t have a magic blanket,” Jimmy continued, “but he is a very magical being. So I guess he didn’t need a hospital or a blanket.”
Bobby thought about it and nodded that that made sense.
“Well,” Jimmy continued, “the chief loved his new grandson. He thought his grandson was the most wonderful thing in the world. One day, Raven saw the box that the selfish old chief
kept the stars in. He pleaded with the chief to be able to look at it. When the chief said ‘no,’ he cried and cried. Finally, the chief said he could hold the box, and he took it down for the boy. ‘Don’t open it,’ said the chief, but Raven did, and all the stars flew up through the smoke hole in the roof and scattered into the night sky, and the people were happy that they had stars to look at.”
“What did the chief do?” Bobby asked.
“He spanked his grandson, and the little boy who was really Raven cried because it hurt. But the next day he pleaded to look at the box with the moon in it. His grandfather said ‘no, absolutely not,’ and Raven cried and cried and cried. He cried so much that the floor of the house was filled with salty tears, like a small ocean. Finally, the chief made the little boy promise he would not open the box. So Raven promised, and when he picked up the box, he dropped it. The box smashed open, and before anyone could catch it, the moon flew up through the smoke hole and was very bright in the sky.”
“Did Raven get spanked?” Bobby asked.
Jimmy nodded. “Even worse than the first time. His bottom was so sore he couldn’t sit down. But he was happy because now he knew he only had to steal the sun. But the old chief loved the sun the best of all and kept it locked in a big box high up on a shelf. Raven cried and cried, reaching for it with his tiny hands. But the old man ignored him. Raven cried and cried. He would not eat, he would not sleep. He cried for hours, then days. Finally, the chief’s daughter pleaded with the chief, and he wearily agreed to let the child look at the box, but he must not touch it. He put the box down before the child. Quickly, the Raven became a bird again and pecked open the box with his strong beak. Before anyone could stop him, he grabbed the sun and flew to the ceiling. Everyone was screaming and trying to stop him, but Raven kept going. He pushed the sun up through the smoke hole but became trapped himself. The chief’s men almost caught him, but at last he pushed through. But his beautiful white feathers were coated with soot, and ravens have been black ever since.”