by King, R. L.
Stone shrugged. “That’s one way to look at it, I suppose. And you might be right. But sometimes we do make things happen for the better. Sometimes by sheer stubbornness, we manage to accomplish what we set out to do.”
She nodded. “Maybe so. You’re probably the strongest of your type I’ve ever met, and you’re young—I don’t think you’re done growing yet. I just hope you learn before it’s too late that sometimes strength isn’t what’s needed. Sometimes you have to work with the world instead of against it.”
“Sometimes,” he said. “But at the moment, the world doesn’t seem terribly invested in sending this thing back to wherever it came from. That leaves me—and you as well, if you’ll help—to figure out some way to sort this out.”
“And I hope you do, this time,” she said, nodding. “Because unlike you, I’m not convinced I can do anything I want to do. Why do you think I’ve been holed up in my house behind my wards ever since the first couple of murders? As soon as I figured out that the thing I nearly died just trying to divert all those years ago was back, and stronger than ever?” Her dark brown eyes met his from her tanned, wrinkled face. “I’m scared. There’s my pride: I didn’t want to admit it. I’ve been up here pretending that it’s something else, or that somebody else will deal with it this time. Because I know what it can do. I saw what it did to you. I saw the kind of magic you put out trying to oppose it, and it meant nothing. So where does that leave me?”
Stone shook his head. “I don’t think you’re nearly as weak as you think you are, Edna.” His voice grew gentle. “Perhaps you don’t have the raw power anymore, but you said it yourself: your style isn’t direct. You don’t oppose things head-on. When you work indirectly, you don’t need the same power level to get results. It’s a lesson I need to learn myself.” He chuckled. “I’m working on it.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Come on—I think they’re finished loading up. Let’s go see what we can do, the four of us. We might surprise ourselves.”
“Or we might die like four mice getting trampled by a bull,” she grumbled, but didn’t succeed in hiding the tiniest of smiles. “Splat.”
Their first stop was Lopez’s house for showers, shaves, and fresh clothes. When Stone came out to the kitchen after spending far too long luxuriating under the hot water, he found Edna and Lopez seated at the table sipping coffee. The photos of the stone tablets were spread out on the table in front of them.
“There was another murder yesterday,” Lopez said, looking up.
“Who?” Stone poured himself a cup and dropped down into a vacant chair.
“Farmer out in the east end threw himself headfirst into a wood chipper. Officially they’re calling it a suicide.”
Stone winced. “Ouch. Hardly a popular suicide method.”
“Yeah, I don’t think Casner’s buying it anymore. They’re bringing in a bunch more cops from Ventura—I’ll probably get called back in soon.”
“We’d better get going, then,” Stone said as Jason came out tying back his damp hair. “If we hurry, we can get up to the site of the shrine and be back before the library opens. Many Faces seems to be escalating.”
“Packs are already loaded in the truck. Let’s just hope he doesn’t stage a repeat performance of last time we were up there,” Lopez said grimly.
All four of them spent the entire trip up the fire road south of Creek Road and the subsequent hike up to the shrine on edge, constantly expecting something to attack them. However, to their surprise they reached the massive oak tree without any sign of He of Many Faces or his minions. True to her word, Edna Soren hiked along next to the others without slowing down or tiring in any visible way.
“Can you feel it?” Stone asked her shortly after they left the truck.
She nodded. “Oh, yeah. Hard to miss.”
As they drew closer, Stone began experiencing the same unease as before: his heart rate quickened, and he began to feel warm and queasy.
Edna, however, seemed unaffected. “You all right?” she asked him at one point when he slowed.
He nodded. “I’ll be fine. I’m surprised you aren’t feeling the same thing.”
“Here, let me see if I can fix that,” she said. She took hold of both of his hands and faced him, peering up into his eyes and whispering something under her breath. After a moment, she let go and stepped back. “Is that better?”
Stone stared at her, astonished. “It is. Thank you. How did you do that?”
She grinned. “I might be over the hill, but I’ve still got a few tricks.”
After that, it was a simple matter to follow the corrupted magical energy trails to the tree. Stone stood guard, his magical senses at full awareness, while Lopez and Jason helped Edna into the proper position to view the tablets. When she came back over to where Stone prowled a few minutes later, she was pale under her tan.
“I had no idea it was that bad,” she said, her voice shaking.
“What did you get?”
“Those things have corrupted this entire area,” she said. “The earth’s aura is—disturbed here. And it’s spreading. Not quickly—but this ley line is very slowly being corrupted by what’s under that tree.”
“Should we move it?” Stone asked.
She sighed, spreading her hands. “I don’t know. I don’t think I want to touch it, and I certainly wouldn’t want it near where any people are. If it can do that to a ley line, I don’t want to think about what it could do to humans. I think the shrine and the ley line are somehow feeding on each other.” She glanced back at the tree; Lopez and Jason were gathering up the packs and coming back over. “What I really think is that it should be destroyed. And I don’t say that lightly.”
“That won’t stop what’s happening with Many Faces, though, will it?” Stone asked. “Destroying the shrine won’t send it back?”
“I wish,” she said. “If that were true, I’d say let’s just destroy it now. Even if we did, though, I wouldn’t want to do it without a lot of preparation. I’m sure it would fight back, worse than you described before. But even so, I doubt the more recent summoners ever got anywhere near this place. This is where it originated, but I don’t think it’s any kind of anchor for it.” Again she glanced back at the tree. “I did get one impression, though. I don’t know if it’s right, but if it is it might help you. You aren’t going to like it, though.”
Stone made a ‘go on’ gesture.
“You’d better hope that whoever ‘she of my masters’ blood’ is, she’s still alive and willing to help us send Many Faces back.”
“Why is that?”
“Because if I read those signs right, since the summoning is so closely tied to that bloodline, I don’t think anybody else can send it back.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
When the Ojai Library opened at ten a.m., the librarian was surprised to see the group loitering in the courtyard. She gave them an odd look when Stone requested back issues of the local high school’s yearbooks, but like all good librarians, she didn’t ask questions. She merely directed them to the alcove where a collection that began more than seventy years ago and continued to a shiny copy from the current year was shelved.
Stone pulled a small stack centering on the one from twenty-seven years ago and commandeered a nearby table. “We’re looking for a Japanese girl,” he said. “And anything else that looks likely. I doubt this ‘Witch Club’ got a write-up in the yearbook, but stranger things have happened.” He picked up one and began paging through it, motioning for the others to do the same.
It was Jason who found it. “Hey!” he exclaimed after about twenty minutes of searching, waving apology at a man at a nearby table who glared at him over his newspaper. Dropping his voice to a whisper, he added, “Look at this!” He shoved the open book into the middle of the table.
Stone studied the pages and immediately saw what Jason had found. Among the c
ollection of black-and-white headshots of mostly white and Hispanic teenagers, the face of a pert, pretty Asian girl in a demure white blouse smiled up at them. The legend identified her as Michiko Isaka. “She might be the one.”
“I only saw two other Asian kids,” Jason said. “One’s a Chinese freshman girl, and the other one’s a boy.”
Stone was idly glancing through the remainder of the junior class, looking for any other names that stood out. He didn’t expect to see any, but was surprised as he neared the end of the list to spot one person he recognized. “This is interesting...” he murmured.
“What?” Lopez asked, still paging through his own volume.
He pointed. “Suzanne Washburn. She’s in the same class as Michiko Isaka. It calls her ‘Suzanne Proust’ here, but it’s obviously the same person.”
“Who’s Suzanne Washburn?” Jason asked.
“Remember when we were at the Third Eye? Not the woman who owned the place, but her friend. The one who brought the ley line map.”
Edna’s eyebrows rose. “That pair are a couple of charlatans. Not a shred of talent in either one of them.”
“Still,” Stone said, “if I’m remembering correctly, the owner said Mrs. Washburn has been interested in the occult for a long time. If that stretched back to high school, and there was some sort of witch club, it’s possible she was a member.”
“Maybe,” Jason said. “But I think we should try to find Michiko first, since if she’s the babysitter we know she was in the club.”
Lopez was getting up. “Let me check the phone book.” After a moment he came back carrying a slender book. “There’s an Isaka here, but it’s not Michiko. It’s listed as ‘S. Isaka.’”
“Let’s try it,” Jason said. “Whoever it is, they’re probably related. They might be able to tell us where she is.”
“I’ll do it,” Edna said. “If it’s a man it won’t matter, but if it’s a woman, she’ll be less suspicious if another woman calls.” She too got up and headed outside to the pay phone.
Stone, Jason, and Lopez continued paging through the yearbooks while she was gone, but they didn’t find anything else useful. She came back in five minutes and sat down. “S. Isaka is Satoko,” she said. “She’s Michiko’s mother. She still lives in Ojai, but she said Michiko is up in the Bay Area now. San Francisco.”
Stone frowned. “Hmm...well, that buggers part of my theory, then: if the group wasn’t all here in town, they couldn’t have gotten together to do the recent summoning.”
“Wait a minute,” Edna said. “You didn’t let me finish. I told her I was an old friend trying to get hold of her, and she gave me her number—but she said it was too bad I hadn’t called two weeks ago, when she was down here for their twenty-five-year class reunion.”
They all stared at her. “When was that?” Stone asked. Then he held up a finger. “Wait a moment. I remember something—hold on.” He hurried off and returned with a newspaper back issue, which he spread out. “I remember seeing this the first night I arrived in Ojai, when I was trying to find the names of Jason’s friends who were getting married.” He stabbed at an article on the social page. “Here it is: a Nordhoff High School twenty-five—year reunion was held at the Ojai Valley Inn a week ago last Saturday.”
“Holy crap, that fits,” Jason said. “Unless there are more bodies out there that they haven’t found yet, the murders started just after that.” He looked at Stone. “We need to call this Michiko, and soon.”
Stone nodded. “Come on. Let’s go back to Stan’s place.”
Back at Lopez’s house, the others waited in the front room while Stone went to his room to make the call. He sat at the small desk with a legal pad in front of him, on which he’d jotted a few things he wanted to mention. Tense with anticipation, he hoped that Michiko Isaka could help them with another piece of their puzzle. There were too many murders, and they weren’t showing any signs of stopping. He punched in the number and waited.
“Dr. Isaka’s office,” a pleasant female voice said. “How may I help you?”
This was unexpected. He wondered what sort of doctor Michiko was. “I’m trying to reach Michiko Isaka,” he said. “Is she available?”
“I’m afraid she isn’t at the moment,” the woman said. “May I take a message?”
“Please,” he said. “It’s very important I reach her. Could you tell her that I’m an old friend and that it’s related to something that happened at her recent reunion in Ojai?” He poured on every bit of charm he could.
There was a pause. “One moment, please, sir.” The phone switched over to bouncy, soulless hold music.
When it picked up again five minutes later, a different voice spoke. “This is Dr. Isaka,” she said. She sounded a little impatient. “Who is this? As far as I know I don’t have any British men as friends, and I’m sure there weren’t any at my reunion.”
“I do apologize for the slight deception, Dr. Isaka,” Stone said, keeping his voice deliberately soft and non-threatening. “My name is Alastair Stone, and in truth we’ve never met. But the other bit was true: it is related to your reunion—or at least I think it is. That’s what I’m calling to try to find out.”
She still sounded impatient. “I’m sorry, but I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t have a lot of time—could you get to the point, please?”
“All right, then: If you’re who I believe you to be, I understand that you were a member of some sort of club or group during your school years. Something to do with magic and witches. Do I have the right person?”
Silence.
Stone let it drag out for a few seconds. “Dr. Isaka?”
“How—did you know that?” Her voice was different now—quieter, and a little strained.
“A lovely woman told me—she said you used to mind her when she was a little girl, and you let her wear your pretty green robe. She told me she called you ‘Mickey Mouse.’” His tone, too, was soft as images of Lindsey Cole came unbidden to his mind.
“Oh, God,” she whispered. “Lindsey...” Another long pause, and then she said, “I just heard about her recently. My mother called to tell me. She was—”
“Yes,” Stone said gently. “I’m sorry.”
There was another silence; Stone could almost see her gathering herself together before speaking again. “I don’t understand—what does Lindsey have to do with—”
“It’s not directly related to Lindsey,” Stone told her. “But it’s very important that I find out about this group. Tell me—did you by chance get together with the other members at your reunion two weeks ago? Did you perhaps stage some sort of ritual or ceremony, for nostalgia’s sake?”
“How do you know this?” she demanded, voice rising. “Who are you?”
“I’m a friend, Dr. Isaka,” he said. “I’m someone who’s trying to sort something out, and this is where I think it’s leading.” He sighed. “I wish I could talk with you in person—this is more difficult over the phone.”
“What’s more difficult? What are you trying to sort out? I’m sorry, but you’re confusing me. Why does some silly group my friends and I belonged to in school matter to you?”
Here goes, Stone thought. This is where she either believes me, or hangs up on me and calls the police. “I know this is going to sound absurd,” he said, “But I’ve good reason to believe that something connected with your group might be associated with the recent murders in Ojai—and the ones that occurred twenty-seven years ago.”
She didn’t hang up on him. She didn’t say anything, either. On the other end of the line was only silence, punctuated by the occasional squeak of a chair.
“Dr. Isaka?”
“You’re crazy,” she whispered. “You’re insane. Who put you up to this?”
All right, time to get a little more forceful. “Listen to me, Dr. Isaka. I’m not insane. I’
m not trying to intimidate you. As I said, I know it sounds farfetched, but believe me, I wouldn’t be calling you if it wasn’t important. If you want to check my credentials, call Stanford University—I’m a professor there, specializing in the occult. If you want to do it now, I’ll give you my number here and wait. When you’re convinced, call me back and we’ll talk further.”
She paused. When she spoke again, her voice was stronger, and angry. “I’m going to call your bluff, Mr. Stone or whatever your name is.”
“Please do.” He gave her Lopez’s number. “I’m not lying to you. It’s vital that you call me back.”
“We’ll see.” She hung up.
Stone sat staring at the wall for several moments, then picked up the cordless phone and drifted back out to the front of the house, where the others were seated in the living room. The news droned in the background, but at least right now it wasn’t covering the Ojai murders. “Any luck?” Jason asked.
“Possibly. We’ll know shortly.” He threw himself wearily down in the nearest empty seat and closed his eyes. He had to entertain the possibility that Michiko Isaka wouldn’t call him back; if so, his next stop was to question Suzanne Washburn, on the chance that her interest in things odd and spooky extended all the way back to her days in school. He wasn’t looking forward to making that call.
It was twenty minutes before the phone rang again. Stone, who had fallen into a light doze, snapped awake and grabbed it. “Lopez residence.”
“Dr. Stone? It’s Michiko Isaka.” Her voice held a strange edge, nervous and contemplative.
He leaped up off the couch and hurried down the hall. “Dr. Isaka. So glad you called back. My credentials passed inspection, then, did they?”
“I called Stanford. They really do have an Occult Studies department. And you really are a professor there.” She paused. “But I still don’t understand why you’re calling me. Why don’t you explain it to me? I’ve cleared my next appointment, so I’m listening.”
