Der Schädelring: Thriller (German Edition)

Satan’s so almighty powerful, why can't he stop bullets?” But in every religion, even the ones predicated on evil instead of good, faith was blind, frail, and ultimately human.
    “I want to give myself,” Julia said. “I’m healed now.”
    Dr. Forrest frowned. "But you were angry—"
    "Only at myself," Julia said, imitating the blissful drone that Dr. Forrest had instilled in her during dozens of sessions. "But now I see. The Master has gone to so much trouble. I am honored."
    "You are his favorite," Dr. Forrest said. "And I've helped bring you to him."
    "Please. Untie my feet, so that I can go with a willing heart."
    Dr. Forrest hesitated.
    “You heard Brother Hartley,” Julia continued. “We don’t have much time, and I don’t think you can carry me, even if the Master lends his strength.”
    Julia almost choked on this false testimony she was babbling. She tried to remember the words of the televangelist from the misdirected–or planted–videotape. If she could adopt some of that same self-righteous flavor and use it to the “Master’s” glory, Dr. Forrest might swallow it.
    “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