Mystery Dance: Three Novels (72 page)

“I want to be one of you,” Julia said. “I want to go to him in glory. I’ve seen his power. Untie me, so that I might embrace him. So I can go to him of my own free will.”

Free will, which the Satanists worshipped almost as much as they did their hollow deity and their own selfishness.

“You’ll have to be marked.” Dr. Forrest rubbed her own pentagram scar through the robe. “Serve him through the pain and blood.”

Julia tried a sincere, rapt look. It felt thin on her face, an obvious fake. But Dr. Forrest was blind. She saw only what she wanted to see. Her eyes were bright in the eagerness to heal Julia, to bring a new Sister into the fold, to claim a victory so that her dark master might smile upon her.

“I’m ready to wear his ring,” Julia said, hoping that was the right thing to say. “I’m ready to become the whore Judas Stone.”

Dr. Forrest’s strong fingers pulled at the rope that bound her feet. The double-hitch knot came free and Julia wriggled the rope from her feet. Dr. Forrest pulled her into a standing position. “The altar’s ready,” the doctor said. “We’ve been working so long for this day.”

Julia glanced up toward the granite peak. A robed figure clung to the face of a boulder, peering down the opposite slope. They were going to ambush Walter. Julia started toward the rocks, but Dr. Forrest grabbed the rope that trapped Julia’s hands behind her back.

“This way, Judas Stone,” she said, tugging Julia in the direction in which Hartley had gone. Julia thought about pulling free and running, but she wouldn’t be able to help Walter while her hands were tied. She’d have to be patient and wait for her chance.

They went through a stand of balsam and hickory and came upon a second, smaller clearing. In the middle was a flat boulder, surrounded by brown grass. A worn path circled the boulder. The altar had been used before, maybe to sacrifice Walter’s wife and child.

Hartley crouched beneath a tree, sharpening his knife. He tucked the knife in his robe and approached them. His eyes were like pockets of fire beneath his heavy brow. “Judas Stone,” he said, smiling. “Are you ready to join us?”

She nodded. She didn’t want to appear too eager, at least not in front of Hartley. Dr. Forrest was deranged, but Hartley’s face was crafted by a mixture of shrewdness and cruelty. Julia supposed that so-called High Priests didn’t ascend to their positions by accident. The Master chose wisely.

“Put her on the altar,” Hartley said.

Snead rushed into the clearing, his hood back, his robe askew on his shoulders. “We haven’t got him yet. We’re trying not to shoot him. A bullet’s harder to explain than an accidental fall.”

Hartley gave a reptilian smile. “Brother Snead, that’s why the Master made you Chief of Police.”

Snead again looked angry, and Julia saw that she might be able to use the in-fighting to her advantage.

“It’s too much,” Snead said. “I can control my end, but if outsiders start snooping, the cracks start to show. Some reporter called me yesterday asking if we suspected Satanic activity in the death of the floater. The SBI might start asking questions, too.”

“Just take care of your business, and let the Master take care of the rest.”

“Damn it, Hartley, she’ll give you the money,” Snead said, looking at Julia. “All you have to do is tell her you’ll cut her eyes out if you don’t. Do we have to go through more of this damned mumbo-jumbo?”

Hartley’s eyes grew even brighter. “Silence, Judas,” he roared.

“What money?” Dr. Forrest asked.

“The money Douglas Stone stole from the Brotherhood,” Snead said coldly. “Three million goddamned dollars. With interest, it could be twice that now.”

Julia stared at the ground, pretending to be dazed and driven to the babbling edge by Dr. Forrest’s mental manipulation.
Three million
.

“Brother Hartley?” Dr. Forrest asked. “What’s he talking about?”

Snead continued. “Do you think we keep all these little covens going just for the hell of it? All our brothers and whores work for the Master, all right, but it comes down to money. Hookers, crack, guns. Or haven’t you heard that Satan rules the world?”

Julia sneaked a glance at Dr. Forrest’s face. The woman looked as if she’d been clubbed in the head, her mouth fallen open, her eyes wide. “B-but the Master–”

“The Master smiles, Judas Forrest,” Hartley said. “We spread wickedness. Love of money is the root of all evil.”

“And take a cut of the profits,” Snead said. “Well,
my
cut’s going to be a little bigger. After all, I’m the one who stole drugs from the evidence locker. I’m the one who made sure those missing persons stayed missing and didn’t turn up as bones somewhere. And I want half.”

“That wasn’t the deal,” Hartley said slowly.

“New deal.” Snead pulled a gun from his robe, and for a moment Julia thought he was going to shoot Hartley. Instead, he stepped over to Julia and pressed the gun to her head.

“Don’t!” commanded Hartley. “She’s the only one who can take the money out of the trust fund.”

The barrel of the pistol was cold against Julia’s temple. She held her breath, counting down slowly. If she was going to die, she didn’t want to die in the blinding darkness of panic. She wanted to die thinking about what might have been, a future that led away from pasts that had never have occurred. She wanted to die healed and whole.

She visualized the mountains, where the ridges met the clouds. Walter was there on that imaginary horizon, waiting. And maybe something behind him, the shadow of his soul, the light of his heart.

Walter’s God had ceded this world to sickness, lust, and greed, but even the frail hope of salvation was better than the certainty of nothingness.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

The cold gun drew Julia back to the windy clearing. Three million dollars. The price of Julia’s soul.

Mitchell must have known about the trust fund. With his connections, he probably knew about it before they’d even started dating. That made his possessiveness more understandable. Money and stolen underwear. The two ways into Mitchell’s worthless heart.

Too bad she’d be dead before she ever had a chance to laugh in his face.

“Come on,” Snead said to her, holding the gun steady. It was the same type as the one Walter had taken from Mitchell, a black automatic.

Dr. Forrest stood near Hartley, her hands clasped together under her chin. Hartley glowered, his thin white hair tangled by the fierce wind. The surrounding forest had grown dark, with the spaces between trees filled with black shadow. The thunder was nearer now, and the ground seemed to shake under Julia’s feet.

“She stays,” Hartley said. “She belongs to the Master.”

“Cut the crap,” Snead said. “It’s just us now. No need to put on your Satan show.”

“She belongs to him,” Hartley said.

“This plan was screwed up from the start. You think she’s going to join the coven now and willingly give you the money? I don’t know why we had to waste all those years letting the shrinks mess with her head. The best way to mess with somebody’s head is to put a bullet it in.”

“You forget your station,” Hartley said. “I’m the High Priest here.”

“Circles within circles,” Snead said. “And who do
you
have to cut in on the deal? How many other people get a piece of the devil’s money?”

“Brother Snead, don’t interfere with the Master,” Dr. Forrest pleaded. “Judas Stone was chosen. She was born to be one of us.”

“Damn, ‘Sister,’“ Snead mocked. “You sound like you’ve fallen for your own brainwashing. You can stay here and try to explain all these bodies to the cops. The
straight
cops. Me, I’m taking this whore back to Memphis, where we’re going to stroll into Stone’s favorite S & L and make a little withdrawal.”

He pressed the gun barrel more tightly into Julia’s temple. “Ain’t that right, Sister?”

If they expected Julia to be insane after years of abusive psychotherapy, she wouldn’t disappoint them. After all, Dr. Danner and Dr. Forrest had been hammering away at her, building false memories, turning her past inside out, making her believe in monsters. The first rule of victimhood was to have an obsessive desire to please others. If Snead wanted her insane, she’d be glad to deliver.

“If the Master so wishes,” she said, giving a smile that she hoped was appropriately empty.

Snead pushed her toward the rocks. She nearly lost her balance, her hands still tied behind her back. “Go on,” he said to her. “It’ll be night soon. I don’t want to be out here in the woods with all these idiots running around with guns. A guy could get hurt.”

They started up the narrow trail. Laurel thickets bordered both sides, the waxy leaves dark. The undergrowth was too dense to try for an escape. Snead pushed her forward, and she had no choice but to stumble toward the peak.

The last of autumn’s leaves flapped in the trees, and the air tasted of static. Julia looked for a chance to flee. She almost didn’t fear getting shot. At least that would be quick and merciful. But she hated to lose to these Creeps, now that she knew how pathetic and weak they were.

“Snead!” Hartley shouted, his voice nearly lost in the howling wind.

As Snead turned, two hooded figures burst from the laurel. One swung a long heavy branch, hitting Snead across the back. The other tackled Snead around the waist and grabbed at his arm. Julia was shoved to her knees in the struggle. The pistol fired twice, and one of the men groaned in pain.

Julia lurched to her feet. Hartley and Dr. Forrest hurried up the trail. The two men in robes held Snead down. Snead’s face was bright with anger, blood seeping from one of his legs.

“Damn you fools,” Snead hissed. “Don’t you see what he’s doing? He wants it all for himself. He always has.”

“No, Judas Snead,” Hartley said, breathing heavily. “Our
Master
wants it all. Because everything is already his.” Hartley pulled a knife from his robe. “Including your sorry soul.”

Julia edged toward the laurels, momentarily forgotten by the Brotherhood. Snead kicked beneath the grip of his captors, but couldn’t free himself. Julia noticed one of the hooded figures had a hole in the back of his robe. A dark wetness surrounded the hole.

Shot through the heart. And still WALKING? What were these people made of?

Hartley lifted the knife and shouted to the sky, “Accept this sacrifice, Satan, O Master of the world, though this soul be of little worth.”

Hartley bent over Snead, who uttered a string of curses. Julia looked away as the knife descended. Snead’s scream turned to a gurgle and was stolen away by the wind. Julia looked at Dr. Forrest. The woman’s eyes were hot with a mad inner bliss.

Hartley stood and cleaned the knife on his robe. “Sorry to taint the blade with his blood,” he said, smiling at Julia. “But the Master will forgive you. Are you ready to finish the mark and join us?”

The pentagram. Hartley wanted to carve the final three lines to complete the scar. Then would come the surrounding circle in her flesh, the knife like cold fire beneath her skin. And at last she would be his, mind, body, and soul.

And trust fund.

If Satan owned the world, why did he need three million dollars? Sins were common. Evil was cheap. And spiritual emptiness was absolutely free.

But she couldn’t run, not with her hands bound and her path cut off. If she dove into the laurels, she’d become tangled in the branches. The peaks ahead were too treacherous to navigate with her hands behind her back. And the hooded Brothers had proven their cruel efficiency.

The best option was to stall for time. Walter wouldn’t give up, not while he still had a breath.

“Join us, Julia,” said Dr. Forrest. “Become the whore Judas Stone.”

Dr. Forrest held out her arms. Everything would be fine, all wounds would heal, the Master would forgive Julia’s waywardness. Satan was the most compassionate of all the deities ever devised by humans. Satan allowed his followers free will.

But free will also belonged to those who
didn’t
follow.

Walter wouldn’t want me to surrender. He’d want me to keep fighting. I am a mountain. They can’t break me.

Julia imitated Dr. Forrest’s rapt smile. “I don’t want to be alone anymore, Sister.”

She stepped forward, between the two Brothers, and bowed her head slightly toward Hartley. “I’m ready to submit.”

“He will be pleased,” Hartley said. He looked up at the strange swirling sky, the bare trees like a thousand black fingers in the wind. “We must hurry, though. Austin might have reported the whore to the state police.”

Dr. Forrest peeled her robe over her shoulders and threw it on the ground. She stood naked in the fading afternoon, trembling from either the chill or excitement. “Make her Satan’s,” she said, her voice high.

“What do we do with Snead?” said the hooded figure to Julia’s left.

Hartley stroked the edge of the knife with his thumb, his tongue poking slightly between his lips. “Remove his head and throw him over the cliff. Let the waters take him, like they did Judas Triplett.”

The Brother to Julia’s right released her arm and moved in front of her. He smelled of wood smoke. The blood on the robe’s torn fabric was thick and congealed. She recognized the ring on his left hand, though the silver was blackened with ash.

The skull ring.

From the fireplace in the cabin.

“Brother Snead can wait,” said Dr. Forrest. “But Satan is eager. He’s waited so long for this whore. He told me how badly he wants to take her, to burn her, to taste her blood.” The woman rubbed her hands over her scarred belly in a grotesque parody of allure.

“So mote it be,” said Hartley. “Remove your robes and partake of his pleasures. Come to Satan in purity, with nothing to hide.” He leered at Julia. “And you’re next, whore.”

Hartley began pulling up his own robe, revealing his thin and mottled legs. The skull ring on the man’s hand glowed, as if the twin rubies were lit by inner hellfire. Hartley must have been in the cabin, found the ring, and brought it to be blessed by the kiss of Julia’s blood.

No,
her
skull ring was worn by the hooded figure in front of her, the one who wasn’t removing his robe.