by King, R. L.
In truth, he didn’t want to be here anymore than his two companions did. However, he needed some information, and the two phone calls he’d made—to Hubbard at the University and Stefan Kolinsky, his black-mage associate—had both gone unanswered. Since time was of the essence, he was forced to resort to plan B. “Ladies,” he murmured with a nod.
“Oh! May I help you?” the proprietress asked. Her voice shook a little, and she never took her eyes off him.
Stone deliberately turned on the charm, wondering if the power of the cheery grin and the accent would trump what was no doubt a fear that he was going to murder them right there in the shop. “I hope so,” he said. “Would you happen to have any reference material on this area’s ley lines?”
In spite of herself, the proprietress’s fearful look was replaced by one of surprise. “I don’t get much call for that,” she admitted.
Stone shrugged. “It’s for a little project I’m working on. I’m down from the Bay Area, and I’m afraid I’ve left all my reference materials at home. I need to know where the ley lines run so I’ll know where to get the best results.”
“What—kind of results?” the woman asked.
He reached into the pocket of his overcoat—both women flinched a little—and pulled out one of his business cards. “Just getting an idea of the sort of mystical energy you have around here,” he said. “Remember when I was in before, I was looking for information on local legends? Same project.”
The woman stared at the card; her friend looked over her shoulder and did likewise. Then they both looked up at him. “You—teach the occult? At Stanford?”
Stone smiled inwardly. Hook baited, line cast, fish caught. Now all that was left was to reel them in. “I do,” he said. “I’m always fascinated to find local shops like yours, and in this case yours was a godsend for my research.” He amped up the smile a bit. “Who knows? You might even get a citation in the paper I’m working on.”
The woman sighed. If Stone had been crueler, it would have been humorous: her expression looked like she couldn’t decide whether to be awestruck or terrified by the thought that he was not only a potential murderer, but a potential murderer who was an expert on her own subject of interest. “I’m so sorry, Dr.—” she looked at the card again “—Stone. I wish I could help you, but I’m afraid I don’t have anything about local ley lines. I might be able to order something, but—”
“Wait,” the other woman spoke up. “I might have a map at home. In fact, I know I do. Do you have time? I could run home and get it. It would only take me fifteen minutes or so. I don’t live far away.”
Stone noticed that she didn’t invite him home with her—the smile and the promise of her name in a real occult paper would only take him so far. “That would be lovely, Ms.—”
“Mrs. Washburn,” she said. “Suzanne Washburn.” She rose and grabbed her oversized purse. “You just wait here if you can, and I’ll be right back.” She waved and hurried out of the shop.
The proprietress smiled, still looking a little uncertain. “Suzanne has oodles of that sort of thing. She’s bought a lot from me, and she haunts Bart’s or sometimes even goes into Santa Barbara or L.A. to look for it. Like I said, one of my best customers ever since I opened the shop.” She tilted her head, clearly gathering her courage. Finally, she ventured: “I saw you on the news, Dr. Stone.”
He nodded. “I’m not surprised.”
She glanced toward the door, suddenly realizing that she was alone in the shop with a potential murderer who had two large and intimidating-looking friends waiting outside. Swallowing, she said, “Is—is there anything else I can help you with while you wait?”
He shook his head. “No, thank you. If I’m making you uncomfortable, I could wait outside.”
“No, no! I—” she dithered, trailing off.
He smiled. “It’s no trouble. I’ll just wait outside with my friends.” He didn’t miss the look of relief on her face as he turned to leave.
Suzanne Washburn returned as promised in about fifteen minutes, clutching a large book and a rolled-up map. She waved triumphantly at Stone and he followed her back inside.
“Here we are,” she said, unrolling the map and spreading it across the counter. “Is this what you’re looking for, Dr. Stone?”
He studied it. The map was quite detailed; it showed the western half of the United States and was crisscrossed with a series of familiar interconnected lines, along with others showing longitude and latitude. After checking to make sure that the ones he knew in the Bay Area were accurate, he focused his attention on the southern California area. “Yes, this will do nicely,” he said. “Tell me: you ladies are obviously knowledgeable about the area’s—mystical characteristics—”
“Oh, yes,” Suzanne said proudly before the shop’s proprietress could answer. “This valley has very good energy. It’s known for it all over the world.”
“I’m sure it is,” he murmured, still examining the map. “But can you tell me if there are any specific areas that are known for being more mystically or spiritually active than usual?”
“There’s quite a lot of them,” the proprietress said. “Ojai’s very spiritual. I think I’ve actually got a list somewhere. You know, for the tourists.” She went off and in a couple of minutes came back with a small pamphlet titled Your Gateway to Magical Ojai, with a hand-drawn picture of a mountaintop and an oak tree under a large full moon. “This should help you.”
“Thank you,” he said, tucking the pamphlet into his coat. He indicated the map. “Do you happen to have a photocopier? I’ll need to spend some time studying this.”
“Why don’t you keep it for now, Dr. Stone?” Suzanne said hastily. “As long as you need it. I use it to do astrological charts, but I have another one. You can just bring it back and leave it with Iris here when you’re finished with it.”
“Thank you both very much. I appreciate your help.”
Once again, he didn’t miss that both of them looked quite relieved to see him depart.
“About time,” Jason said as Stone came out of the shop carrying the map and a large purple bag. “Stan and I have been out here discussing what a crazy-ass idea this is that you had. Are you sure you still want to go through with it?”
Stone kept going, headed back toward Lopez’s truck. “I haven’t been able to come up with anything better. Have you?”
Jason and Lopez fell into step behind him. “We’ve been trying,” Jason said. “We got nothin’. But are you even gonna be able to do this? What makes you think it’ll talk to you, or that you can handle it if it decides it would rather eat your face? Didn’t you say it kicked you around like an old football at the barn out on Creek Road?”
“Yes, but I didn’t have a secret weapon then,” Stone said.
“And what’s that?”
“You.”
They reached the truck and climbed in. Jason stared at the mage, confused. “Me?”
“Faces won’t expect me to have the kind of power I can toss around when I don’t have to worry about what’s driving it. I’m hoping that will give it a surprise if it tries anything. You are still willing to help, aren’t you?”
“Sure,” Jason said. “But—”
“I’ll need an hour or so to study this map and compare it with the literature I’ve got,” he said as if Jason hadn’t spoken.
“What are you looking for?” Lopez asked, swinging the truck into a wide U-turn and heading back up Ojai Avenue.
“Someplace that might not exist—if it doesn’t, I’ll have to improvise. But if luck smiles on our efforts, there’ll be somewhere around this area that combines a place of power, a ley line—or even two of them crossed, which is too much to ask—and few or no people likely to be nearby after dark.”
“You realize,” Lopez said, “that if you pull some kind of flashy stunt and get caught, you’ll
probably get hauled back into jail again. At some point they’re gonna charge you with something just so they can sit on you.”
“Yes, well, that’s your contribution to our little party,” Stone said. “If that should happen, it will be your job to talk our way out of whatever police trouble we find ourselves in.”
Lopez grimaced. “Lucky me.”
Jason waited until they got back to Lopez’s house and the cop was in the kitchen getting drinks before addressing Stone. “So you said you need my battery thing to help you with Faces,” he said. “What about that other magic you were working on? The stuff from Harrison? I just realized you never mention it anymore. Did you give up on trying to learn it?”
Stone sighed. “Erm,” he said. “That sort of thing’s not really appropriate in this case. I haven’t worked out yet how to do anything but open up the firehose and let fly, and that can be dangerous if I lose control of it.” It wasn’t the truth, and he hoped Jason didn’t spot the fact that he was lying—or at least not telling the whole story. Apparently Verity had kept her word and never revealed to her brother what had happened the previous summer, when Stone had temporarily burned out his magical abilities while dealing with the Evil’s ritual at Burning Man.
In truth, he’d put Harrison’s research on the back burner after that. He didn’t like to admit it, but the thought of permanently losing his magical abilities frightened him enough that every time he thought about resuming his experiments, he came up with an excuse for why it would be better to do it later.
Later hadn’t come since he’d returned from Las Vegas, almost a year ago.
“You’re not having second thoughts, are you?” he asked, to divert the subject.
“Nah,” Jason said. “I told you I’m in, and I am. I just gotta say I don’t think trying to talk to something that’s murdered seven people so far is gonna work. It doesn’t seem the talking type.”
“You may be right,” Stone said. “But I’m fresh out of other options.”
Chapter Thirty
Stone took the map, along with his various books and pamphlets, and disappeared into his room. When he came back out an hour or so later carrying the map and a book with a marker sticking out of it, Jason and Lopez were watching another news account of the triple murder on the evening news.
“Anything new?” Stone asked, “or are they just repeating themselves for the dozenth time?”
“No suspects,” Jason said. “They’re asking for the public’s help if they saw anybody near the house. There’s speculation that it might be related to at least a couple of the other murders and they’re telling everybody not to go anywhere alone, especially at night. Oh, and the little girl, Olivia, is in her grandparents’ custody.”
“Good, good.” He sat on the couch and turned to Lopez. “Stan, are you familiar with a place called…Matilija Hot Springs?” He stumbled over the unfamiliar word.
“Sure,” Lopez said. “It’s a few miles outside Ojai, up Highway 33.” He grinned. “And you totally mangled that name, Al. It’s ‘Ma-til-i-ha.’”
“Whatever. Tell me about it.”
Lopez shrugged. “It’s kind of a local hippie hangout—hot springs, like the name says. There used to be a little resort thing, but it’s been closed for the last couple of years. People still sneak up there sometimes to soak and smoke from what I hear, but they’ve got no-trespassing signs and a razor-wire fence around the whole thing to keep ’em out. I wouldn’t be surprised if a few snuck in anyway, but it should be pretty private, especially on a weeknight. Is that where you want to go?”
Stone nodded. He indicated the rolled-up map and opened the book to the place he’d marked. “According to this, the Chumash considered it a sacred place of healing. It doesn’t have intersecting ley lines, but it does have one running right through the middle of it. And I didn’t realize it was closed—that makes it even better. Means we’re less likely to encounter anyone, and if we do, you can just show them your badge and ask them to leave.”
“You make it sound so easy,” Jason said.
“Well, either it will work or it won’t,” Stone said. “It’s not terribly complicated in theory.”
“Theory isn’t what usually tries to kill us.”
Stone’s expression grew serious. “I’m not forcing you to do this—either of you. There’s a good chance it could be dangerous, especially if something goes wrong. If you want to back out, do it now.”
Jason and Lopez exchanged glances. “Hell,” Lopez said, “I didn’t need to retire anyway.”
“And I got nothing better to do,” Jason said. “Looks like you’re stuck with us, Al. When’s this going down?”
“As soon as it gets dark. The sooner we do this, the sooner we have a chance of stopping the murders.”
“What exactly are you going to do?” Lopez asked. “I’m not following this whole plan. You’re gonna try to contact this thing and talk to it? And say what? ‘Please, Mr. Ancient Evil Spirit of Vengeance, won’t you stop killing people?’ I know I’m pretty new at this whole supernatural gig, but somehow I don’t think asking nicely and offering it a cookie are going to get you very far.”
“I don’t have a cookie,” Stone pointed out. “So I’ll have to make do with my natural charm, I guess.”
“Al—” Jason started.
Stone shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’m making this up as I go along, to be honest. But like I said before—what other alternative do we have? If you have other ideas, speak up now.”
“If you get yourself killed, it’s not gonna do anybody any good,” Lopez said.
“I’m not planning to get myself—or anyone—killed. We’ll be prepared before we go in, and that includes stronger mental protections and a much more elaborate circle.”
“Great, except that thing got to you, even through your mental protections, remember?” Lopez pointed out. “And it almost made me shoot you.”
“So far, though, he’s shown no sign of being able to do that away from his nasty little shrine. As strong as he is, I don’t think he’s nearly as potent without being near a corrupted ley line combined with something that could hold its mystic charge over hundreds of years. If he could get to us out here, I think he’d have already done by now. I think he tried when I was getting Jason back, but he couldn’t manage it.”
Lopez got up. “Okay, then. Come on, Jason.”
“Where are we going?”
“Hardware store, for some supplies. Al here has proven that he’s great with the weird shit, but pretty much hopeless with anything practical. So it’s up to us to be the practical ones.”
Stone glared at them, but once again he didn’t bother contradicting Lopez.
They waited until full dark before heading out of town. Stacked neatly in the truck’s bed were three packs similar to the ones Lopez had prepared for their hike up to the shrine, along with a couple coils of rope, a first-aid kit, a fire extinguisher (Jason’s idea, after pointing out that Stone’s magical adventures often ended in something either catching fire or blowing up), a pack of glow sticks, a heavy blanket, a lantern, extra flashlights and batteries, two long-bladed machetes, and a flare gun. There was also a shotgun and a box of ammo in a locked box in the back of the cab, and Jason had convinced Lopez to lend him his spare pistol.
Stone had looked over all these preparations with amazement. “We’re not going to war,” he protested. “We’re just going five miles outside town.”
“Has one of these plans ever gone the way you expected, Al?” Jason asked, arms crossed. Despite the heat, he was carrying a leather jacket he’d borrowed from Lopez. The cop had one as well.
“With that kind of optimism, what can I do but assume everything will be fine?” Stone’s voice dripped sarcasm as he tossed his black duffel bag, stuffed full of various ritual components supplemented by his purchases at the Third Eye and a few of
his books, into the bed along with the rest of the gear. He had declined Lopez’s offer of another leather jacket, preferring his own overcoat. It didn’t have any armor, but he didn’t think trying to do magic while flapping around in a jacket that fit someone who had forty pounds on him would be the best idea.
They had dinner at an Italian place Lopez suggested after Stone had quietly turned down the first suggestion of Don Armando’s. Still, he barely touched his food, staring moodily into the table’s candle as Lopez and Jason dug into their pasta and caught up on old news as if this were just a normal weeknight. If he noticed that their voices were a little unnaturally fast and bright, he didn’t say anything.
The truth was, he had next to no idea how he was going to pull this off. He didn’t even know if He of Many Faces would bother to answer his call, or what he would do if it did. His hope was that, like many things from the spirit world that liked to dress up as other people, it wasn’t that powerful physically. That kind of being usually relied on subtlety rather than sheer power. The Evil were a good example: once you got them out of their stolen bodies, even the most powerful of them were vulnerable on this plane. The trick was getting them out, and hitting them once you did. Since he was reasonably sure now that Faces couldn’t possess him or his friends, it would be forced to deal with him in a noncorporeal fashion. And further, if his theory about its minions requiring some connection (such the energy from a recently-killed victim) to be able to affect the material plane without possessing someone, then they, at least, might not be a factor in this.
There was also the possibility that Stone had deprived it of what might have been a significant power source when he rescued Jason from his extradimensional captivity. He still wasn’t sure exactly what Faces had been doing with the power it had been pulling from Jason, but now it didn’t have it anymore. That had to make some difference.