When I reached the police station, I had calmed down considerably, but I also insisted that Willems be called in. Fortunately, the young officer at the desk decided not to argue, and after twenty minutes or so, Willems showed up, obviously having dressed in a hurry.
We sat in the messy office, and Willems looked at me resentfully and wearily. But once I began my story, be grew more and more alert, and he insisted that I take him to Nudd’s horrible lair.
Tears rolled down the hardened cop’s face as he took in what Nudd had done. I made him swear to take all the credit and leave me out of the story. He shook his head but agreed. Finally, I headed home. Once I was well away from Nudd’s part of town, I found a cab and went to my apartment, just as the sun began to rise.
The next day a special edition of the paper shouted the end to the murders. Detective Willems’s name was on everyone’s lips. He was the hero. The town took a big sigh of relief that day.
As for me, I slept for several hours, then got up and showered and changed. I knocked on Cecilia’s door to find out how she was feeling, but she was not home. I spent most of the day sitting in my room, feeling empty and drained.
As the evening drew near, I was able to bring myself back to reality, and I headed to the Ferry Cafe for what I figured was my final trip there. I walked slowly as I felt my being unimaginably depleted. The only thing that kept me going was the inspiration sparked by Father Brannahan to find my own voice of faith and hope deep inside my soul. It gave me the determination to look for a way forward no matter what was going on or happening inside or around me. Whatever it was, even though I felt drained, I knew I had to see this mission through to the end.
I flagged down an older driver with grey hair and a full beard who was offering his services as a driver and got in the car.
I leaned back into the seat as I sat in the man’s car. He was very humbly dressed, his hands wrinkled and rough, his face exhausted, and his shoes had holes in them, so even before we set off, I gave him a decent amount of cash. His eyes got big as he stared at me with disbelief. I simply patted him on the shoulder and told him where I wanted to go.
The old man eyed me in the rearview mirror, then spoke. “Young man, you have such a kind heart, but why are your eyes so sad? Why is your spirit low? Aren’t you doing God’s work by helping men like me? God blesses you.”
“Yes, I suppose He does,” I answered wearily.
As I got out of the car, it began to rain. Luckily I was inside in a minute. The hostess, Silvia, knew me and took me to the table where Cecilia and I always sat, except I was alone this time. I sat back in the comfortable chair as a sparkling drink was brought to me. The lights were already dimmed, for I had missed the first performer, but Bryan, one of my favorites, was up next. He came out onto the stage in a nice brown suit, with perfectly combed hair and a slight smile on his face. The crowd applauded as he sat on a tall stool with the band situated right behind him.
“The princess in the sky
Smiles so gently
But she’s only a cloud.
I know that I’m dreaming.
Yet it’s her smile
That fills all my dreams.
Maybe one day
Life will be all that it seems.
The sun and the moon
Their laughter and tears,
They’ll bless me together
I’ll forget all my fears.
The morning is shining,
Her laughter’s in my ears.
So sweet and romantic.
But it all disappears.
At night a reflection
Of stars in a pond.
I sing my complexion
A sorrowful song.
The sun and the moon
Their laughter and tears
They’ll bless me together
I’ll forget all my fears
All that’s left is to dream
To trust that it’s real.
Forget all the pain
It’s love that I feel.
Forget all my sorrow
She’ll always be there.
Sweet song of tomorrow
But today’s where I stay.”
Bryan’s voice was soothing and soft, and I let one song after another wash over me. I felt my face relax and soften, my jaw loosened, and I realized how tightly I had been clenching it for so long. Even my hands lay flat on the table.
I allowed myself to dream of taking Cecelia and leaving Paradise Harbour, but just as the song said, it was only a dream, for I still had to finish my task. But for now, I allowed myself to live in the moment where dreams were possibilities, and the music lifted me up and out of my troubles.
After the last performer finished his set, I still sat there waiting to be the last one to leave the cafe. Bryan stepped up onto the stage and picked up some sheets of music he’d left on top of the piano. He noticed me and looked surprised I was still around.
“God bless you, sir,” he said to me before stepping out the door.
I followed shortly. The rain had stopped, and it was rather cold. The light of streetlamps reflected in the puddles. A chilly breeze was coming from the ocean. I slowly walked along the streets, not really paying attention to my surroundings as I usually would. A black cat came from an alley. His paws were wet, and he stopped between the puddles to stare at me. I searched my pockets for something to give to him, but couldn’t find anything.
“Sorry, buddy, got nothing for you.” The cat streaked away.
I had meandered off the main street and decided to stop strolling aimlessly and make my way back to where I might find a taxi. I stopped to get my bearings and heard movement behind me. I turned but saw no one. The hairs on my neck were standing up, and I knew I was being followed. I turned down a side street, walking quickly and looking behind me. Footsteps echoed behind me, and I turned to face my stalker, pulling my revolver as I did so.
Several hooded figures were coming toward me at a run. One held a knife, another a rope. In horror, I realized that these people were cult members, bent on revenge!
I fired at the one with the knife and ducked around a corner. The knife-wielder was down, but the rest of them were still coming after me. I fired four more times, and then I ran up a flight of stairs. They led to another alley, and the streetlight there was partially out. I hid in the shadows of some garbage cans and quickly reloaded my revolver, waiting for them to appear.
The moon broke from behind the clouds, and I saw them clearly: three hooded people, two with knives, and I could not see if the third had a weapon. I aimed, and it all happened very quickly.
I fired at the two cultists with the knives, hitting one in the chest and the other in the head. Then the third raised a hand toward me, and I fired several more shots, emptying my gun. I sat there breathing heavily as I reloaded again, in case more cultists were coming. I waited for a minute, two, then three, then five, but there were no more sounds.
Cautiously I got up and moved toward the bodies, my gun at the ready. It was clear by the pools of blood under them that I wouldn’t need it.
I removed the hoods from the first two cultists, both young men who looked to be in their twenties. But when I pushed back the hood from the third body, my heart leaped in shock. It was Cecelia.
I choked back a sob and looked away. I’d been such a fool! How had I not seen it? She had been so friendly with Mitch, admired him—and she’d worn the octopus ring. Tears dripped down my face as I looked at her eyes that would never open again, her lips that would never smile again.
But then I noticed something. The skin of her face seemed to melt and wrinkle, as Charlie’s had. Reluctantly I pulled at the mask skin. It came away in my hand. Beneath it was a different face, one that was strangely familiar to me but that I could not quite place. “Oh no. It couldn’t be,” I muttered. I frantically searched the inside pockets of my coat for Aranxa’s picture.
Yes. The dead girl was Aranxa. She had been one of the brainwashed! The earnest, brilliant medical student who had come to this place seeking knowledge and happiness had instead found its counterfeit. I let go of the photo, and it gently floated down to land next to the dead girl’s face.
Indeed it was Allard’s daughter. The girl I had come here for, the one I had endured all this madness for, was the one I had just killed. I sat back against the wall and hung my head, staring at the ground. The investigation was over. How was I supposed to explain this to Allard? I could barely comprehend it myself. His daughter had been with me this whole time.
How could I have known humans were capable of such terrifying and demonic actions? Every ancient myth took on the possibility of fact after what I had seen. And no one would believe me. I recalled Mercedes’ reaction as I had told her some of the things I’d learned. She already thought I was heading toward madness. Surely Allard would either kill me or put me in an asylum. No financial reward was worth this. I wished with all my heart that I could turn back time and say no to Van Dausen’s offer, but nothing could change things now. These terrifying, unbelievable experiences were all part of me now, deeply entrenched in my mind and psyche.
Well, I certainly could not stay here. I got up and covered the heads of the bodies with their hoods once again. I hesitated when I came to Aranxa. I picked up the picture and briefly entertained the idea of taking her body out into the ocean or to the island, but I couldn’t do it. I felt guilty just leaving her lying there, but I gathered the strength to do that and walked away.
I lay in my apartment on the floor almost the whole day, without eating or drinking. When I saw the sun begin to weaken, I went outside and walked in the direction of the small church on the cliffs.
I had known I’d be back in that spot again. I stood at the lighthouse near the cliffs. The dark waters of the powerful ocean crashed against the rocks, violently, beautifully, time and time again. The sun was gently setting, and I wondered what the next wave of my life would bring. Was there going to be a new dawn for me, or did I have just the dusk remaining?
The End.