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The Cult of Skulls was written by G. Lester

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Chapter Twenty-Three

It was well after sunrise when the surviving members of the Cult of Skulls- and Mariam and Tania, and Sterling himself- were seated around Rhonda's kitchen table, listlessly eating at an enormous breakfast of pancakes, bacon, eggs, and sausage the sympathetic older woman had prepared for them. After the fire and lengthy, not entirely sympathetic interviews by the police, no one was much in the mood to talk.

Tania and Mariam huddled together, commiserating quietly with one another over damage to their clothes, hair, and complexions. Heart sat with eyes half-closed, beating out some inner rhythm only he was hearing on the side of his plate with his fork. Tooth and Grin, small and dark and large and golden respectively, sat together at the far end of the table, picking at their food and not meeting anyone's eye. Little Golder sat slightly removed from the others, nibbling on slices of bacon and sipping glass after glass of orange juice poured from a pitcher Rhonda had, at his request, set in front of him.

Hal, with some embarrassment, had left for work at the fast food place, certain that there was no way the mere death of a friend would be an acceptable excuse for his absence. Evan and Sterling found themselves together on the other end of the table, neither much in the mood to eat but both making a pretense of doing so.

"I should never have bought those wretched skulls in the first place," Evan said finally, as if determined to break the silence by bringing up the most painful subject possible. No one disagreed. "Or I should have found some way to get rid of them, once I realized how dangerous they were," he added, staring gloomily down into a glass of orange juice.

"Yeah, but how could you do that?" Tooth asked. "You can't just, like, throw away something magical. That only makes it worse. At least that's what happens in the movies."

"I should have tried," Evan insisted. "How could it have been any worse than this?"

"People die all the time," Golder pointed out. "Just because this is somebody we know, that doesn't mean it's anything supernatural."

"The police are investigating the possibility of arson," Sterling told them. No one seemed surprised. "Curses don't set off bombs," he pointed out.

"Everything was fine before the black skull," Evan said. "And even before I bought the white skull, things weren't too bad. A few minor annoyances, but nothing deadly like this. If either of them carries a curse then the white skull must bear a real stinker. And not to minimize the death of poor Stoney, you do realize we're out of business? As a band, I mean. We lost all of our instruments in the fire."

"I'm sure Stone would sympathize," Golder remarked dryly. "If he was here to do it, that is."

Evan looked at him reproachfully. "I said not to minimize his death," he reminded him. "But at least he doesn't have to try to figure out where his next rent payment is coming from. Might I remind you that the Center won't let anyone stay there unless he has at least minimal employment? Perhaps we should see if Hal's burger place has any openings."

"They usually do," Grin spoke up. "Guys don't work there any longer than they have to."

"I was being facetious," Evan said. "Though I suppose we're going to have to try to find something or the other...." He sighed deeply and fell silent.

"I don't suppose any of your belongings were insured?" Sterling asked. The others looked at him as if he were insane and he shrugged. "It was just a thought."

"As a matter of fact the van does carry insurance," Grin said, perking up slightly. "Has to, in this state. If we can maybe set it afire and then claim it was in the blow-up?"

"Aside from the fact that the police saw us drive away in it, what good would destroying our only means of transportation do us?" Evan asked mildly. "Though they might replace it with a newer one, of course...."

"Oh cool," Golder applauded. "Now if only we can learn to make music with tire irons and windshield wipers we're all set."

"Sarcasm isn't going to help," Evan chided.

"Do you know anything that will?" Golder asked glumly. But then he shrugged. "I'll ask around, see if any of my friends will loan us some instruments. We only need enough to get started again. It's not like we're so well known that anybody will care if all of a sudden we go acoustic with a couple of guitars."

"Oh goody!" Evan said. "All of a sudden we're folk singers. All we need is a straw hat and a dog."

"Better than flipping burgers," Golder pointed out.

"Easy for you to say," Tooth spoke up. "You can sing acapella if you have to. It's hard to fake a keyboard."

"Limited, aren't you?" Golder smirked. "I'm sure we can work out something. We may even be more successful than we were before. Now we have a history. Everybody's gonna want to see the band who lost their drummer in the fire."

"I say!" Evan exclaimed. "You really are a ruthless little fellow, aren't you? You're saying it's an actual blessing that poor Stone got killed?"

"Of course not," Golder snapped. "I'm just looking at the facts. Anyway, I'm not the one who brought up our professional problems, you did. If you don't want to talk about it I won't." He took his glass and the pitcher of orange juice and left the room.

"Hm. I think we hurt his feelings," Evan remarked with a rueful smile. "Oh well. He'll get over it. He always does. But he does have a point, actually. We should be able to survive professionally, at least. Assuming that we're able to survive physically." He turned to Sterling. "I don't suppose that gypsy lady friend of yours has any idea how to remove the curse of the skulls?"

"We don't even know if there is a curse!" Sterling insisted. "I would think if a skull wanted to kill you it would use supernatural means, not a firebomb."

"I thought it was a leaky gas pipe," Grin put in. "That's what one of the firemen said."

"I don't think any of them really had any idea at that point," Evan told him gently. "Just because someone is paid to put out fires doesn't mean he knows much about the mechanics of starting them."

"The fire marshals are going to investigate," Sterling said. "They'll track it down if anybody can."

"Then you suggest we just sit back and hope they'll find that a rat happened to be smoking next to a cracked gas pipe?" Evan demanded. "Might I remind you that we lost a very close friend in that fire? Well a friend, anyway. Meaning no offense to anyone, but Stone wasn't an easy chap to get close to. Of course it didn't help that he was stoned out of his mind most of the time."

Sterling looked up with surprise. "Was he?"

The others laughed, even Tania, who seemed strangely unconcerned by her boyfriend's death. Or perhaps she hadn't really figured it out, yet, Sterling thought, looking into her blank, beautiful face.

"At any rate," Evan went on, kindly ignoring Sterling's gaffe, "he was one of us, and I for one don't feel I can just sit back and leave it to the professionals to try to find out why. And remember, even if we tell them, they won't believe in any curses. There's no way they're going to get to the bottom of things, here."

"Yes, but if some physical agent set the fire-" Sterling protested.

"We're still vulnerable as long as the curse continues," Evan insisted. "Granted, in the beginning I thought it was something of a joke. A few petty annoyances, some odd events I couldn't explain- it was even somewhat exciting, I suppose. But now it's turned deadly. I don't see how we can just sit back and let it devour us one by one." He looked around the table with a challenging expression but no one spoke up to disagree.

To be continuted ----

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The Cult of Skulls

UFO Monster Movie Mystery by G. Lester has been offered as a free serial story on Ongoing Tales. Those wishing to own their own copy of this Joseph Sterling mystery, or wishing to give it as a gift, may purchase it as a browser readable e-book on CD-ROM from Antelope Publishing.

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