Archer's Paradox Chapter 2: The Demon Wakes

Jay opened the piece of paper. It was a police report from a year ago documenting a case file opened on Valentine’s Day. Jay briefly read through the description of the case skimming through the gathered information presented. His eye caught a particular detail.

The killer makes use of some sort of bow. Details: Unknown.

“How is this an alternative, Marty?” Jay asked.

“If we can’t get the Ghost, maybe we can get Jason Stones as an external consultant. You are an expert at this,” Marty responded folding his arms. “No dress-up. No killing. No rooftop shenanigans. Just come to the crime scene and give us a little intel on the direction we should head in.”

Marty was no fool. He knew the only place traditional archery was taught was in Jay’s archery academy. Naturally, this was the first place he’d look. But why now? Wasn’t it a little too late to come to Jay one year after the first incident?

“How far have you gotten in the past year?”

Marty sighed. “Not far. Not far at all. I wanted to come to you earlier but I only was given full control of the case two weeks ago. It hasn’t been going too well so far.”

“You’re desperate.”

Marty nodded despondently. No wonder he looked so tired. The dark brown patches under his eyes and his disheveled hair clearly showed that.

“How many has he killed?” Jay asked.

“I don’t know. The previous detective working on it was about as useless as a rock. He didn’t even bother to document everything so when I picked up this case two weeks ago, I had absolutely nothing to work with. He can’t remember the damn names of the suspects either.”

“Damn… I can’t believe the incompetence has escalated to that level,” Jay muttered. “So your first move was to bring me in as an expert to examine one of the crime scenes?”

“Well, the crime hasn’t happened yet,” Marty replied. “But I believe it will… tomorrow.”

“Where?”

“No clue. All I found was this.” Marty pulled out another small card from his top pocket. It looked wilted and wrinkled like it had been dipped in water for quite some time. “Look familiar?”

The Ghost’s calling card. An arrowhead with a skull in the background traced in blood was stained onto the card. Jay read the words on the card.

“Will you be my valentine?”

The words were written in smudged red ink enclosed within a black heart with an arrow piercing it.

“Cupid,” Jay whispered.

Marty nodded. “Found this washed up on the river bed as I was walking by. The only reason I picked it up was because of your symbol.” He pointed to the city in the distance. “Someone received it over there and threw it away. That someone is the victim of tomorrow’s killing.”

Jay offered the card back to Marty. “What are you going to do about it?”

“What can I do except wait? It’s too random for me to protect specific individuals and I have no idea what his previous targets were.”

Jay turned around to walk down the cliff. “Bring the arrow that will kill the next victim to me. I’ll know if it’s mine or someone else’s. If it’s mine, I’ll give you my customer log. If it’s not, good luck.”

“Jay, wait.”

“I’m not going back to that God-forsaken city. I’ve got nothing left there except old demons.”

“When are you going to make peace with those demons, Jay? Ten years and you’re still hiding from them.”

Jay paused before the river and looked at his reflection in the shining waters. “As long as they stay there, I am at peace.”

***

Jay left the range and walked home, meeting several of the villagers along the way. It really was a time capsule. As he stepped down the cobblestone path, he watched as elderly, retired villagers hung their clothes over their face-brick walls to dry. The sun beat down on their thatched huts.

Families in Grimwell were no more than three or four. As the children reached maturity, they were sent to boarding schools in the city. Their heads filled with aspiration and zeal, they didn’t bother returning to the quiet of the village except as a leisurely vacation.

Jay, now accustomed to the atmosphere of the village tuned out the idle chatter among its inhabitants like ambient noise fading into the background. The youth of the town carried buckets to fill fresh water and fishing nets to catch their dinner from the river as it gushed over the rocks.

While Grimwell had its fair share of problems, Jay found it far more peaceful than the city. The open fields used for grazing, the flowing streams, and the shade of the trees standing tall and mighty like skyscrapers of the village.

The primary reason he fled to Grimwell was his sudden disgust for violence. In the city, to refrain from violence was like refusing to breathe; you can only do it for so long. If he ever went back, he’d fall back into the pit he wanted to climb out of. He’d end up becoming the Ghost once more.

Jay approached his house. Its door was made from brown oak, the same material he crafted his bows from. He pushed it open taking in the lavender scent of his living room. His footsteps creaked on the wooden floor.

To the left of the entrance, a set of leather couches hugged the walls. They faced a crackling fireplace, its flickering flames casting a dancing shadow behind it, and an ambient glow that added to the cabin’s warmth.

On his right, a cupboard with photo frames and albums placed on top of it stood tall and sturdy. They were snapshots of a pleasant, serene past.

In front was the dining room table, wooden with aluminum legs. Encircling the table, a mismatched ensemble of plastic chairs awaited despite being chipped and damaged. Each dent, scratch, or mark bore testament to a memory of his.

In this cozy cabin, everything slowed down, allowing for hours of self-reflection. Its quiet embrace radiated a sense of harmony like a sanctuary high in the mountains where the air was thin and the mist was thick.

He walked beyond the dining room and into the bathroom to wash his face. Turning the tap to hot, he looked at his reflection in the mirror. He ran his finger down the mark across his cheek wincing at the memory it triggered.

The symbol of The Ghost on a Valentine’s Day card? Why?

Suddenly, in the misted mirror he saw a ghastly figure behind him. A man dressed in ripped black overalls, and a faceless, white mask armed with a bow and quiver stood behind him.

Jay’s eyes widened. He flung his body around to verify his vision.

Nothing. Just as he thought.

He rubbed his eyes hoping he was not relapsing once more. As he turned to face the mirror once more, the face appeared once more.

Jay stumbled back as the figure emerged from the mist of the hot water and towered over him as he lay helpless on the floor. A specter of the past. A ghost.

The Ghost was once a hallucination Jay would have when he put on the mask. A deranged, unhinged, crazy voice whispering in his head like the devil himself. As soon as he took off the mask, good ol’ Jason would return cheerful and smiling as if he had not a care in the world.

“I know you’re not real, so stop acting like you are,” Jay said, shaking his head with his eyes shut.

“How can you be sure of that?” Ghost asked.

“When I built this house, I made the floors wooden on purpose. Anyone who steps foot in it makes a sound even if they are the lightest of walkers. I made it just for you.”

He opened his eyes, now accepting his hallucination. “What do you want? Why now?”

His hallucination stared at him, lifting his bow up as if offering it to Jay. “Only you can tell me that.”

He walked out of the bathroom, his hallucination now sitting relaxed on the couch, warming his hands at the fireplace.

I thought I killed you, Jay thought, sitting down opposite the Ghost.

“More like... exiled me.”

“A lot has changed since then. I’m not afraid of you anymore.”

The Ghost tilted his head to one side. He stood up from the chair and in a flash, he rushed towards him. Jay raised his arms to his face and shut his eyes tight screaming in the process. When the Ghost finally pulled away, Jay fell to the ground, panting.

“It would not seem so,” the Ghost replied.

Jay heard a knock on the door. Is this...

“Oh, don’t worry,” the Ghost assured. He walked up to Jay until his face was only inches away from his. He placed his index finger against Jay’s temple. “I’m the only one allowed up here, remember.”

Jay scowled and turned away from the horrific figure to open the door. A half-bald man carrying a walking stick and a bag of fruits stood at the steps of the entrance. His wrinkled smile at Jay made him look older than he was.

“Dad!” Jay said with as much excitement as he could muster considering what had transpired recently. “Let me get those for you.”

“Nonsense, Jason!” his father replied swatting his hand away from the packet of fruits. “Let a man feel useful once in a while.”

His father hobbled in and placed the bag of fruits on the table. “Litches from Mary, mangos from Uncle Joe, and pomegranate from Wesley. All fresh off the branch.” He unpacked his goods and placed them in the fruit basket on the table.

Jay turned around expecting to confront his hallucination once more. Instead, he had vanished a ripple of his voice trailing off in Jay’s mind as if the Ghost was speaking to him from behind a thick pane of glass.

“So how did the archery lesson go?”

“The usual. We found out why Alex couldn’t hit anything,” Jay said nonchalantly. “Katie and Annie are coming along well.”

His father winced as he lowered himself into his armchair with a heavy sigh. “What was the problem with Alex?”

“He was just nervous. Target panic, y’know?”

“Did you show him the drill I used to use on you?”

“Yeah. Worked... kind of...”

His father eyed him suspiciously, his brows furrowing and his eyes squinting. “What’s wrong? You’re not nearly as energetic as you usually are.”

“Marty came back with a case,” Jay muttered. “It’s... brought back some old memories.”

The old man scratched his chin, deep in thought. “What kind of case?”

“Murder. Some stupid vigilante archer decides to just kill people,” Jay hissed.

“Innocent or guilty?”

“Doesn’t matter. There’s no reason to kill anyone. Why can’t everyone just get along like this village? Settle their disputes over a cup of coffee... peacefully.”

Jay knew just as well as his father how impossible that was but he could dream.

“I wish that were the case as well, Jason,” his father said getting up from his seat and making his way to the kitchen. “I’m feeling like some tea and biscuits. You want?”

“No thanks, Dad. I’m good.”

As his father hummed a song to himself in the kitchen, Jay decided to take a look in the basement of his house. It was less of a basement and more of a tomb. The last fragment of his dead past.

Since the Ghost decided to pay him a visit for some reason, something clicked in Jay’s mind. The symbol of the Ghost on that Valentine’s Day card meant something. It wasn’t placed there for decoration. It was a clear imitation of his work. Someone was trying to use his name to clear the streets and in doing so give the impression that Ghost had returned.

As Jay cautiously descended into the depths of the forgotten bunker, the stale air felt weighty on his chest. The flickering light of torches cast eerie shadows that stalked Jay as he proceeded down the long passage.

The bunker, lost to time and buried in the depths of oblivion, exuded a palpable sense of foreboding. Its walls, constructed from weathered wood, attempted to conceal the clear signs of neglect and abandonment. The once-sturdy, wooden beams quaked as if struggling to hold the overbearing concrete slabs above.

A chilling silence hung heavy in the air, only daring to be interrupted by the intermittent dripping of water from within the damaged plumbing pipes. Simply walking down here filled Jay with a sense of anxiety.

This was his old safe house. Now, it was nothing more than a tomb of lost hope and suppressed anguish. Jay coughed. The dust filled his nostrils as he swept it off the aluminum box.

Jay never fathomed that someone would wish to emulate the very monster he once tucked away in this very tomb. Marty likely approached him with a proposition to return to the city, recognizing that the Ghost could eliminate the killer more efficiently than the police force. Now well aware of the legal limitations placed upon law enforcement, criminals took advantage of their rights and requested lawyers. It was highly probable that the assigned defense attorney, as well as the overseeing detective, had been swayed by a powerful syndicate, and that criminal would walk out of that station as if he just bought the place. In reality, he did.

Nonetheless, there existed a stark contrast between the Ghost and this murderer, a distinction that even the police department couldn’t overlook. If this imposter had truly embraced Jay’s vigilantism, no officer would dare bat an eyelid. In fact, they'd come in droves, hoisting him in the air as a savior.

Jay looked at his wristwatch. Marty had exactly twelve hours to find the target and secure them before ‘Cupid’ struck.

“You’re really thick-headed, aren’t you?” his hallucination said mockingly from behind him. “You’re trying to avoid the most vital question you know you have to ask yourself. The one you’ve been avoiding for ten years.”

“And what might that be?” Jay asked turning around to see the figure nonchalantly leaning against the wooden frame of the entrance.

“You can deal with me stuck in your head all you like. Ten years, fifteen maybe even your entire life. But what are you going to do about all of them?”

As The Ghost drew nearer, a haunting symphony of screams and cries flooded his mind like a burst water pipe. Anguish, guilt, and horror bombarded his consciousness from every angle with a deafening screech. Every last one of them was extinguished by his own hand.

Amidst the muddled mess of tormenting screams, individual voices emerged, each carrying its own unique pitch. The anguished wails of souls escaping him pleaded for mercy.

As The Ghost’s haunting figure drew closer, Jay’s anguish reached its zenith, and his body succumbed to the pangs of crushing guilt. He crumpled to his knees, his trembling hands clutching his head in a futile attempt to silence the chaos.

“Get out,” he whispered. “Get out! Please...”

“What are you going to do about all of them? What are you going to say to them when you meet them in hell?”

“Jason!” his father called from what felt like a distance of eternity. “Jason, look at me!”

The Ghost faded away but the screams remained. Jay couldn’t find the strength in his legs to lift himself up.

“Deep breaths. Whatever is happening, it’s not real.”

Jay forced his breathing to steady, wiping the sweat from his brow.

“Why are you crying?”

Jay blinked only now realizing the tear down his cheek. “Wha-”

He didn’t feel like crying but somehow a tear escaped his eye.

“Dad...” Jason muttered, wincing at the sudden pangs of a headache his entire hallucination had caused. “I need to talk to you about him.”

Questions

1. Does the transition of mood between the cozy atmosphere of the house and the basement feel too abrupt?

2. Does Jay's hesitation to join Marty make sense in light of what he now stands for?

3. Is the hallucination disorienting/unsettling?