The Skull Ring (30 page)

"This isn't a joke," Julia said.

"Sure, it ain't. Okay, I'll fall for it. Where is these bones?"

"Under my house."

The woman laughed. "Under your
house
?"

Julia chewed her thumb. The man in coveralls came to the window of the store and stared at her. "I'm Julia Stone and I live at—"

"
Stone
? You're the
whore Judas Stone
?"

"What?" Invisible fingers clutched at her throat.

"He owns you, whore, so give him what's his."

Julia let the phone drop. She leaned against the phone box, her brain swimming and her chest tight with sudden panic. This was a big one, the inky tidal wave, the ocean roller coaster, the earthquake chasm beneath her feet.

He owns you.

The words raced through her head, in the dispatcher's voice, in the low rumble she'd heard outside her window last night, in the menacing voice on the night of her Black Mass.

Take this whore Judas Stone.

She felt light, displaced, again outside herself, gasping for air.

Run to the Jeep. Get out of here.

Except–

No matter where you go, you take it all with you. It's part of you. And he OWNS you.

She tried to relax, to begin the slow countdown from ten. But she couldn't find ten, she couldn't make balloons of her fingers, she couldn't concentrate enough to let her mind stray. Only one person could help her now. She scrambled through her purse for more coins, thumbed down the receiver switch, and fed the phone as she punched up a well-remembered number.

Dr. Forrest answered before the first ring ended. "Where are you, Julia?"

"It has me."

"Relax, Julia. Breathe."

"I can't." Her heart was going to either explode or collapse upon itself.

"You trust me, don't you?"

Julia leaned against the wall of the store. A car whisked by on the highway, but she didn't bother to see if it was the police. "Why was Snead in your office?"

"You asked him to be there, remember?" Dr. Forrest's tone switched from concerned to chiding. "You called me last night."

"No,
you
called
me
." Even as she said the words, Julia was no longer sure she believed them.

"Julia, you need help. You need
my
help."

"You lied about the pentagram drawing."

"Julia, do you want to be healed?" Dangled like a treat before a scolded puppy.

Julia hammered her fist against the wall of the store. "Healed of what?"

"Healed of resisting. Let it out, let it possess you. He owns you, but you've been such a very bad girl. So very difficult."

Julia's inhalation froze in her lungs. Numb tears filled her eyes.

"Julia, we've all tried to help you. Lance, Lucius, your father, everyone. That's all we've ever wanted, for you to embrace him. For you to become the whore Judas Stone."

Julia couldn't pull the phone from her ear. In that horrible black moment, she realized that Dr. Forrest owned her just as Lance Danner had. All wanting her to remember that night. All making the monster real.

"Julia?"

"Yes." The word hissed from her lips in a slow leak of air and soul.

"Where are you now?"

"I don't know."

"We want to help you. He loves you, Julia."

"Julia?"

That last voice hadn't come from the phone. "Walter?"

He ran to her, grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. "Shhh. Just relax. It's okay. They can't get you here."

He took the phone from her hand and placed it on its hook. A door slammed shut. The man in the coveralls peered at them, twisting his mouth sideways. "You folks okay?"

"Breathe," Walter whispered. He called to the man, "She's fine. Just had a dizzy spell."

The man nodded as if he didn't believe them and went back inside.

"Listen, Julia." Walter's face was so close she could feel his breath, could see the hundreds of flecks of brown and green and gold in his eyes. "You're standing on the clouds, the sun is out, you're laughing and playing. There’s a soft, golden light shimmering in the sky. You don’t have to be troubled. Open your heart and–”

"That man—he's probably calling the cops. He's in on it. He's one of them."

"Shhh. Look way off, where the mountains meet the sky. Up there where the clouds are. Be a mountain. Even the devil can't break a mountain."

Julia looked at the thick folded clouds that hung over the ridge, and the strong and timeless slopes that fell away into a river valley.
They can't break a mountain
. Silly, maybe, but it worked. Maybe Walter sensed she wasn’t ready for a leap of faith, and maybe his sales pitch for Jesus was waiting in the wings, but for now he was an anchor, as solid as his metaphorical mountain.

When she could finally breathe again, Walter led her around the corner of the store and helped her into the Jeep before climbing into the driver's seat.

"He owns me," Julia said.

"Satan doesn't own you." Walter jammed the Jeep into gear and sped onto the highway, heading for the soft blue mountains ahead. "Not while I'm still alive."

As they roared away too slowly to lose the past, Julia wondered if, no matter the route they took, Satan was already the master of all her possible futures.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The Jeep came to a stop in front of a weathered cabin. The cabin's two small windows were separated by a gray door. A stone chimney leaned precariously from one end of the structure. The cedar shake roof was covered with moss, and the walls were made of thick, hand-hewn logs.

The climb into the mountains had been a blur. All Julia remembered was the vehicle bouncing and roaring as Walter climbed into the hills, a mad kaleidoscope of autumn leaves overhead, and Walter's occasionally reaching out to touch her arm. She had imagined hearing sirens and once thought she had seen Snead running between the trees alongside the old logging road.

Julia looked out of the Jeep at the forest that surrounded the cabin. The dirt track dwindled to a footpath on the ridge behind the cabin. The surrounding mountains were lost in the mist, adding to Julia's disorientation. The air had grown heavier with an imminent storm.

"What do you think?" Walter asked.

"Where are we?"

"Ten miles past nowhere, at our hunting cabin. Been the family getaway for three generations. I don't reckon our creepy friends will be able to find us here, at least not before we figure out our next move."

"They'd better not follow us," Julia said. "It looks like we've run out of road."

"That just means we're that much harder to find," Walter said. He got out of the Jeep and came around to the passenger side. Julia was already out of the door before he reached her. She leaned against the Jeep until she was reasonably sure she'd regained her balance. The fresh pine-and-loam aroma of the woods cleared her head.

"I'm sorry to drag you into this mess," Julia said.

"I was in this mess long before you came to town."

"I don't have anything but my purse," she said. "I don't know if I can be much help snaring rabbits or whatever you mountain men do for food."

Walter laughed softly, as if the surrounding forest relaxed him. "If we get that bad off, there's a couple of fishing poles inside. Got a few days' worth of canned goods, too, and a backpack of stuff in the Jeep. Compared to running from the devil, starving to death is the least of our problems."

Walter unlocked the door and it swung inward with a groan of hinges. He stepped into the dark cabin while Julia studied the towering hardwoods. Walter emerged after half a minute. "It's safe," he said, glancing at the oppressive sky. "Come on in."

Julia went past him into the cabin. The interior was chilly and steeped in old woodsmoke, and her eyes took a moment adjusting to the darkness. She made out a small table in the center of the room, a counter with a basin in the corner, and a small loft along one wall that she assumed contained the bed. Walter came in with an armload of firewood and soon had a blaze roaring in the fireplace.

Julia knelt on the floor before the fire, grateful for the warmth. The flicker of flames threw jagged shadows up the walls, but the close quarters were comforting instead of threatening. The sky outside the windows was now charcoal streaked with silver, and the first drops of rain fell on the shake roof.

"We'd better get the stuff out of the Jeep," Walter said.

He'd said "we." He didn't expect her to sit there like a helpless child. They were in this mess together. Together, such a strange word. After all those years with Mitchell, she'd never felt "together" with him.

Thunder rumbled across the mountains as they waited in the door. "If one of us gets struck by lightning, the other gets all the food," Walter said.

The static electricity in the air revived Julia. "Let me see what you've got before I get my hopes up."

They dashed to the Jeep, and Julia climbed in the front while Walter wrestled with the zipper at the rear of the canvas top. She passed him a rolled-up sleeping bag and slung his backpack over her shoulders. The rain fell harder as they ran back to the cabin, and they were both soaked by the time they stood panting before the fire.

Walter pulled some cans from the backpack. "Sardines or Vienna sausages?"

"You don't have any caviar in there, do you?"

"Nope." He flashed his uneven smile. "Don't have any breath mints, either. I didn't expect to have anybody to please on my next trip up here."

"I'm not hard to please." Julia peeled off her sweater, hung it from the log mantel, and checked the cell phone. Still no signal.

Walter pulled a small bundle of clothes from the backpack. "Here," he said, tossing the clothes to Julia. "You don't want to be catching a cold. Makes it harder to run from devil worshippers."

Julia stared at him.

"Don't worry. I won't peek," he said. “I’m no gentleman, but I’m a man.”

Julia went to the corner beneath the loft and kept her back turned as she took off her shoes and changed clothes. She looked down at the scars on her belly and shivered at more than just the chill. Walter's blue jeans and red flannel shirt were too large for her, but the dry fabric felt good against her skin and she gleaned a strange comfort from wearing his clothes. She went back to the hearth with her wet clothes in her arms.

"Okay, you can look now," she said.

Walter kept his attention focused on opening the cans. The smell of the food mixed with the smoke. "I didn't lie," he said. "That creep really was climbing out of your window."

"I know. I think my fiancé–I mean, my ex-fiancé–”

Walter finally looked at her, and his gaze was hungry. "You don’t have to be alone. You can let somebody ride shotgun once in a while.”

She blushed, but hoped it was hidden by the firelight. “I think Mitchell hired him to harass me and play tricks to make me think I was going nuts. He thought I’d have to cave in and then he could control me. He seemed obsessed with my money, but I don’t have any.”

"You're starting to sound as paranoid as me."

"It ain't paranoia if they really are out to get you."

Julia spread her wet clothes out on the stone hearth, and then suffered a sudden attack of shyness as she draped her bra and panties on the mantel. She scolded herself and finished the job. No need to keep secrets anymore. Secrets had never done her any good.

Walter handed her the sardines. Julia had rarely eaten sardines and had always been repulsed by the smell. Now, though, her hunger was stronger than her distaste. She pulled one of the small oily fish out of the can with her fingers and ate it like a seal would, her head tilted back.

"Your turn not to look," Walter said, pulling another change of clothes from the backpack. "Can I trust
you
?"

Julia licked the fishy taste from her lips. Not too bad, though a bit overpowering. "My therapist said not to trust anybody."

"Therapist? What can a therapist tell you that you don't already know? All they do is pass their own problems onto you, instead of the other way around."

Julia looked at him. "That’s a relief. You really
are
crazier than I am."

"And from that phone call you told me about, your Dr. Forrest is crazier than both of us put together. Now, keep your back turned."

“I’m no gentleman, either,” she said.

Walter went to the corner and changed clothes while Julia ate another sardine and wondered whether or not she was considering peeking. She couldn't decide, and she was on her fourth sardine when she realized that nearly a minute had passed without her thinking of Mitchell, Snead, or Dr. Forrest.

Or of her father.

Walter joined her before the fire and ate the sausages. They then had an apple each, passing a canteen of water back and forth while they finished the makeshift dinner. Julia put a large oak log on the fire and watched sparks fly up the chimney. The rain had held steady, and darkness settled heavily on the mountaintop.