The Faceless One (40 page)

“There seemed to be no way to battle The Faceless One,” Jimmy said. “He was too powerful, too intent on creating misery. It was as if he had waited an eternity for a race to torment, and we provided him with an endless source of dark amusement. For a time, our ancestors considered leaving this land. We had always been subject to the whims of our gods, but The Faceless One granted no respite, no means of appeasement or atonement. Of course, if we went back, not only would the route be arduous, but our old gods would punish us for running away—indeed, some would be even angrier that we had shown weakness and returned.

“It was
Yéil
, whom you know as Raven, who came to our aid once again. We had known him in the old lands under other names and guises, but here he would always be Raven. My people believe Raven brought light to the world, even had a hand in creating it. When we first arrived, he had counseled us on all the gods that lived in this land: of Otter, who strides both the land and the water; of Killer Whale, whose people live in villages deep underwater; and of King Salmon and his tribe, who feed us.” Jimmy held up the Raven talisman for them to see. Both Liz and Steven could appreciate its artistry, but it struck neither of them as powerful or sacred. Jimmy clasped the effigy tightly and continued. “Raven showed us how to represent each entity, and we passed this knowledge on to our people. When Raven saw that The Faceless One would strike no bargain, no contract, he went to each god, goddess, and demon of the world. He struck a bargain with each, sometimes through reason, sometimes through trickery, sometimes through combat. Raven may be a Trickster, but he can be a formidable foe. They created rules of being for The Faceless One, pooling their collective energies, changing the very fabric of existence. It may seem impossible, but these were gods, after all.

“Raven was able to help us craft one representation of this face of Chaos, this gaze into the Abyss. It was consecrated with the blood of several of our greatest holy men, and Raven himself hammered the inlays of ivory and gold to give it power. He called The Faceless One by his true name and tricked him into the mask. He was held there, and bound, for hundreds of years, buried deep in the ice several miles from Yanut.

“Raven gave the elders the means to conquer The Faceless One and counseled that we make such knowledge available to all. But the early shamans feared their positions might be in jeopardy—they decided to keep the ways of The Faceless One secret from the uninitiated. Some knowledge grows in strength the more that it is known. It perpetuates itself and increases in intensity. But some knowledge is terrible and rare. It must be conserved lest its power be squandered or lost. So they decided it was with The Faceless One. As long as the mask remained undisturbed, The Faceless One would be held and Chaos could not rise and engulf the world. As long as he slept, the final Age of Ice would not come.”

Jimmy paused and looked at them. There was silence for a moment, then Steven shook his head. “I’m sorry,” Steven said, “I don’t believe it. I respect your religion, Mr. Kalmaku, and that you’ve made a long journey to get here, but it’s too much. It’s like asking me to accept that the sun is actually a fiery chariot, and if I don’t kill a goat, that chariot will cease its flight across the sky, plunging the world into darkness.”

Jimmy nodded. “I realize it is a lot to ask you to accept on my say-so, but I do not have the time to prove these things to you. Surely things have occurred in the last few days that would convince you.”

Visions of Bobby tearing his face away, Mr. Manyteeth, my son with finger marks burned into his skin by extreme cold—yeah, it’s been a regular parade of the paranormal
, Steven thought. And yet, he wasn’t convinced. Everything that had happened could be explained in a number of ways, and most of those things did not involve ancient gods or evil entities. He looked at Jimmy, still apologetic but disbelieving.

“This is a time of grave danger,” Jimmy said. “The Faceless One would not have emerged unless he was disturbed. Should the mask be worn by someone with a shaman’s power, he will be able to destroy the world, not just those who have touched the mask or transported it. Each of the people who perished at the hands of the so-called Taxidermist has somehow come into contact with that mask. Now it is on its way to you.” Jimmy thought of the mask sitting in the shed, an object no one could touch without dire consequences.

“Why us?” Steven asked.

“The bond of uncle and nephew is very strong with our people,” Jimmy said. “Your brother accessed strong magic somehow. I suspect he is the one who found the mask and liberated it. This magic is naturally communicated to your son, his nephew. If your son is the
target of The Faceless One, then it is possible he has had some … visitations.”

“He had a couple of nightmares,” Steven said.

Jimmy looked at them. “Is your son still having these experiences?”

“No,” they answered in unison.

“He had a few bad dreams, that’s it,” Steven insisted.

“But not anymore,” Jimmy said. “Did anything unusual happen?”

Steven wasn’t going to answer. He was tired of all the questions, all the nonsense. But Liz answered before he could cut the “interview” short.

“He … he almost drowned in New York. After that, he didn’t have the nightmares anymore.”

Jimmy thought about this.

“The Faceless One delights in cruelty, in making life a painful and horrifying ordeal. But if your son perishes, then his hold on this world is tenuous.”

“Just for the sake of argument, why would he choose a little boy?” Steven asked. “Why not any handy adult?” He pointed at Jimmy. “You, for instance.”

Jimmy shook his head.

“I am too old to wield such power. Even if I wanted it, I would perish within minutes. Besides, it must be someone who comes into contact with the mask.”

Steven stood. He looked at both Jimmy and George.

“Gentlemen, I appreciate your attempt to warn us. I know you’re both doing what you believe is right. Now I have to ask you to leave. We’ve just gotten back from a hellish trip, and we’re exhausted.”

“Please,” Jimmy began.

Steven raised his hands, as if warding off any further conversation.

“Mr. Kalmaku, I really don’t want to call the police, but I will if you force me to.”

The cats jumped down from the sofa. They looked at Steven with reproach, as if he had been unbelievably rude. They stalked out of the living room, tails held stiff and upright.

Jimmy looked at Steven, then nodded sadly.

“We’ll be at the Holiday Inn in Burbank for a couple of more days if you change your mind,” he said.

“We won’t,” Steven said.

Jimmy looked almost embarrassed.

“Would it be all right if I used your bathroom?”

“Sure,” Steven said, wanting this interminable visit to end.

Jimmy excused himself and headed down the hall. George looked at Steven and Liz.

“I don’t blame you,” he said. “I didn’t believe any of it, either.”

“What changed your mind?” Liz asked.

“Saw too much weird sh … stuff with my own eyes, Mrs. Slater.”

“I guess that’s what I need,” Steven said. “But even if a raven flew in here right now, sat on the table and told the same story, then backed it up with card tricks, I’d still have a hard time believing it.”

Steven and George glanced at the window, each half expecting the bird to arrive and begin his tale. There was nothing outside but one of the cats, sprawled in the sunshine and sleeping peacefully.

“Jimmy’s a good man,” George continued. “He really has lost all of his people, and there really is something terrible going on.”

“I know you both believe that,” Steven said, and hated himself for saying it. He sounded like one of those pompous intellects in the stories he read, the men without imagination. How interesting that he had grown up to be a skeptic after all.

George heard the implied insult but didn’t argue the point. He picked up his hat from the sofa.

“Maybe I should wait for Jimmy by the car,” he said.

“I’ll walk you out,” Steven offered. For a moment, he wondered if it was safe to leave Jimmy Kalmaku inside with his wife and child. He decided he was being foolish. The old man was delusional but not violent.

* * *

Jimmy looked into Bobby’s room, wondering what he might do. The mask was in that maintenance shed, but no one could pick it up without inviting The Faceless One. What was he going to do?

Bobby was playing with his stuffed bear and a sock monkey when Jimmy looked in. The boy’s face brightened.

“Hi, Mr. ’Malku!” Bobby said. “Ready to play Star Wars?”

“We have to go, Bobby,” Jimmy said. “Maybe some other time.”

The boy pouted.

“Can’t you just play for five minutes?”

Jimmy smiled. His granddaughter was like this. Of course, a child’s concept of “five minutes” usually was closer to thirty.

“Maybe for two minutes,” he said.

He went into the brightly colored room.

* * *

In the kitchen, Liz put the glasses in the sink. Like Steven, she did not believe in a pantheon of gods or demons interfering with the affairs of human beings. Neither of them went to church and subscribed to beliefs centered more around kindness and honesty than anything else. Of course, they celebrated Christmas, but neither one believed in all the aspects of Christianity. Still, something in the old man’s manner nagged at her. She was worried that she and Steven might be making a mistake.

* * *

In the driveway, Steven got into their Toyota. He would need to park on the street if the old men were to leave. He got into the car and started it, the air conditioner still slightly cool from their trip back from LAX. He backed down the long drive somewhat slowly, always afraid a cat or child would dart behind the car.

It was when he was glancing in the rearview mirror that he saw Luthor the cat sitting in the driveway. The cat looked at him, unblinking. Steven honked the horn, but the cat didn’t move. He got out of the car.

“Luthor, you gotta move, buddy.”

The cat looked at him with practiced disdain. Steven had gotten that look when he had tried feeding them generic food.

“Come on, Luthor,” he started, then noticed something at the cat’s feet. For a moment, he thought the cat had killed a large rat, and he didn’t relish having to pick the thing up. He drew closer, expecting the cat to growl territorially or run away. It stayed put, regarding him with large, yellow eyes.

Steven looked down, and felt a chill go through him.

At Luthor’s feet was a small elk, no larger than a kitten. It tried to raise its head feebly, and he saw with mounting fear that tiny stars winked at several points on its antlers. He could hear the thing making small, mewling sounds, and there was an odor on the air like green grass and rain-soaked earth. For some reason, seeing this tiny, impossible creature injured filled him with a profound sadness.

“Luthor, what have you done?” he asked, his voice a choked sob.

“You did it,” the cat said, its voice a mere whisper.

Steven looked at the cat, feeling dizzy. He struggled to stay balanced on his haunches.

“You,” the cat hissed. It picked up the tiny creature gently in its jaws and ran off. One
tiny star fell from the creature as Luthor carried it off. The star rose before him, a pinpoint of light. He could feel the heat on his face, feel the tears running down his cheeks.

It was real.

Oh, part of him wanted to dismiss it as a hallucination, as a fever dream brought on by grief and fatigue, but there comes a time when you must accept the fantastic. To do otherwise is as unreasonable as belief without evidence.

The tiny star streaked off, leaving a small rainbow in its wake. This slowly turned to stripes of indigo and black, then faded away. Steven stood, wiping his face.

George was standing behind him.

“You saw it, too?” Steven asked. There was a lump in his throat, as if he had just learned some terribly sad truth.

George nodded.

“Tiny elk, with stars at the end of its antlers,” George whispered. There you were, then. Someone else had seen the exact same thing, without any prompting.

Steven shut off the car and headed with George back to the house.

He, George, and Liz found Jimmy playing with Bobby. Bobby was Darth Vader, Jimmy was Obi Wan to Bonomo’s Luke Skywalker. They looked up as the others entered.

“I believe you,” Steven said. And, for just a moment, he felt an overwhelming sense of great joy, as if the world were filled with endless possibilities.

Jimmy nodded, relief smoothing his wrinkled face, showing for a moment the handsome man he had been in his youth.

“What can we do?” Steven asked.

Jimmy considered telling them about the mask in the shed but decided he would wait until the boy was asleep. There was a lock on the door, and his protection spells would keep out any meddling entities. Still, he should find out how much they knew.

“Has any mask come to you?” Jimmy asked.

Steven and Liz shook their heads.

“I need to perform a protection ceremony with your family,” Jimmy said. “When the mask comes, I will have to figure out a way to transport it safely back to Alaska and place it deep in the ice.”

“How can we help?” Liz asked.

“You can help me mix some papier-mâché,” Jimmy said, smiling.

Stan did not see the Big Boss arrive but he knew he was there. The temperature in the alley had dropped significantly, as if a large freezer door had swung open nearby, and he could feel the presence of the thing. He was sure the Big Boss was there to collect him or finish him.

Just as he had registered the thing, he saw what seemed to be a golden dome hovering over the Slater house. It was ethereal and lasted only a second, but there was a great power in its presence. When he had been a kid, his mother had wanted him to be an altar boy at St. Bernadette’s. Stan had preferred playing baseball and going into the woods with his friends. His mother had given him a special Bible, sort of a bribe to join the faithful under Father Thomas. The Bible had some illustrations, including a lurid depiction of Samson slaying the Philistines with the jawbone of an ass. But his favorite painting had been on the frontispiece. It showed a city of gold in the clouds, great shining domes and minarets. The caption had read,
GOD’S HOLY KINGDOM
. The Bible had not convinced him to give up his weekends, but it had made him want to visit God in that lovely place. Even when he grew up and eventually lost all faith in God, he would remember that illustration with a wistful fondness, nostalgia for the blind faith of childhood.