The Rings of Hesaurun Page 4

  The burns Stone suffered were severe enough to have him flown by helicopter to a Seattle burn center. Surviving them would have been unlikely without his Hesaurun ring, which greatly enhanced his body’s healing abilities. Typically, burns such as he suffered would have meant months or years of hospitalization and skin grafts. But within a week, Stone was back on his feet and released ten days later.

  Unfortunately, his scarred flesh would make him even more of an outcast than he had been previously, contributing further to his haunting appearance. People had always avoided him, and he avoided them, so Stone saw little difference in the way he was perceived.

  In truth, Stone didn’t care what people thought of him anyway. He never needed people or friends and he had always gotten along fine without them. In his mind, caring about other people was for women and children. His parents had abandoned him, and the few people he’d ever cared for had either left him high and dry or tried to kill him. He was at a point in his life where he was long past caring about anyone other than himself.

  What he did care about, more than ever, was getting even with the little Dunne girl. I’d already have the Dunne’s ring, if it weren’t for her interference! By his way of reasoning, the little imp had gotten in his way. He figured she must have known about it and may have even hidden it from him. And now his prize was either lost in the rubble of the blast or in that evil brats possession. Either way, it was bad, and Stone blamed her for the loss. As he saw it, little Valerie Dunne had ruined everything.

  He hated her for burning him, believing it was unfair and unnecessarily cruel. Only a witch would do such a thing. Admittedly he had killed her parents, although those deaths were quick and painless. They never knew what hit them; didn’t that count for something? The girl had a right to be upset. But she had gone out of her way to burn him, a slow and painful penance to be sure. The malicious little terror needed to be taught a lesson. He vowed to see to it, and when he did, he would enjoy every beautiful minute of it.

  Although he would never admit it to anyone, let alone himself, deep down Stone was afraid of her. And what of the four-armed bronze scarecrow? Was that— thing real or a hallucination? And what happened to the damn cat that gave him dirty looks? He prayed those were just visions or an aberration of agony.

  Though Stone hadn’t seen a ring on little Valerie Dunne, he was convinced she had one. Just because you didn’t see it doesn’t mean it wasn’t there. He could conceive of no other way she could have loosed fire on him the way she had. For all he knew, she might have swallowed the ring or worn it on her big toe. But it was there somewhere, and he would find a way to get it.

  As it would turn out, he was wrong about that, every bit of it. Other than his own, there never was a ring there that day. Valerie never possessed one, nor had her parents. The whisperings Stone heard and felt were his own rings, yearning to be reunited with the girl. What he couldn’t know was that the ring he wore—was her ring. Nevertheless, Valerie Dunne was an obsession from which he would never escape.

  ________________________ Colin and Janet Dunne were well-known and wellliked in the community. Janet had been a wedding planner and Colin a city engineer, so almost everyone in town knew them. Both were born and raised in the area, making their loss a local tragedy.

  The couple’s memorial was held at the Magnolia Wedding Hall on a Saturday morning. More than three-hundred people attended, leaving standing room only in the former ballroom. Friends and family sat on folding chairs lined up in neat rows or huddled together along the walls. Yet, one man stood alone, not because he was antisocial or didn’t care about the decedents and their family. He cared alright, more than most, but had business to take care of and wanted to avoid being noticed.

  Corell Paris had come in late, having driven all night from his home in Southern Oregon. As he entered, the mayor was eulogizing the deceased couple. Scanning what seemed like a sea of people, he eagerly searched face-after-face for the one he sought.

  “It has been said that it takes a village to raise a child,” the mayor’s voice echoed in the cavernous hall. “Colin and Janet were born, raised, and married right here in Arlington, which makes them children of this village, and they will be sorely missed.”

  The room stirred as the weight of those heart-rending words hit home. The mayor’s remarks weren’t an exaggeration of the impact of the loss on the tight-knit community. Corell found himself nodding his agreement as his dark eyes anxiously searched the crowd of hundreds.

  He found more than a few familiar faces but doubted they would remember him. They had grown old while Corell had remained unchanged through the years— just one more reason he wanted to avoid being identified. Yet he wasn’t there for them, those older ones; he was there for the four-year-old girl.

  Corell ran his hand through his thick gray hair and breathed easier when he finally spotted Colin Dunne’s daughter Valerie, seated in the front row between her aunt and uncle. Hearing of Colin and Janet’s deaths, Corell needed to be sure Valerie had survived and that she was safe. Accepting someone else’s word for it wouldn’t do; he had to see it for himself.

  Valerie Dunne’s survival has driven my life for more than thirteen-hundred-years, Corell reminded himself. Her survival isn’t the most important thing in my life; it is the only thing.

  I got soft, he scolded himself, as he crept closer to the girl’s row. I felt too comfortable, and look what happened. I should have known better, been more diligent, and maybe things would have turned out differently. Colin and Janet are gone, which is a tragedy, but it would have been catastrophic if the world had lost Valerie!

  Corell noticed the tingling of his skin for the first time since arriving. It was like an alarm going off during deep sleep; an alarm one barely notices until fully awakened. He had been so focused on finding Valerie that he had ignored the sensation entirely. But that didn’t surprise him; it was something Corell Paris had lived with his entire life. He had grown used it. That and the whispers of his Hesaurun ring. Whispers that always accompanied this sensation of tingling.

  Corell Paris had worn his ring for more than thirteen hundred years. He’d been around long enough to know what it meant. It was always the same; the five Hesaurun rings craved being together—they yearned to be reunited, so they sent these sensory messages to the wearer. Although that day, the feeling Corell experienced was different. And he knew why.

  It’s the girl, Valerie Dunne! His ring wanted to be with the girl. Rather than desire, he felt recognition and delight from his ring. He felt its euphoria at being close to her, and this exhilaration warmed his bones.

  As the mayor continued the eulogy, Corell crept closer still. Little Valerie Dunne was seated in the front row between her newly-adoptive parents. She was the one his ring had sought for millennia. The ring felt her presence, purring and whispering joyfully. It recognized her and craved being with her. It didn’t matter that she was a child or that she had never laid eyes on Corell’s ring. The ring belonged to her, and she to it. Somehow the ring knew that and whispered to her, seeking fulfillment, trying to draw her attention. But it would have to wait for another day. She never heard it because her time hadn’t come—yet.

  Steeling himself, Corell Paris backed off. I’m alright with waiting, he thought, slipping back to the entrance; he and his ring shared the same goal. As he watched the child from the back of the crowd, he wondered what she felt. Could she feel it? Did she sense the Hesaurun ring calling, whispering her name?

  After all, it was her ring. Corell’s job was simply to return it to her.

  Chapter 3

  Valerie Dunne. April, Present-Day.

  She watched the moon rise over the mountains as feathery clouds moved before them like windblown curtains. Silhouetted against them, Valerie Dunne sat cross-legged in the grass, scanning

  the star-studded sky hoping to sight a meteor, or perhaps a satellite or two. While there was never a warm spring night in the Seattle area, this one was comfortable enough for
blue jeans and a sweater.

  Her sleep had been interrupted by a recurring dream that troubled her deeply. Finally giving up on sleep, she wandered outside to a rise in the pasture behind the house. The place was special to her because of the view. The grey outline of mountains punctuated by snow-covered crags gleaming in the moonlight provided solace for the weary girl.

  One-hundred yards below, the river was close enough to hear the rush of water over the sound of traffic on the two-lane highway two miles distant. Day or night, traffic was always present there. Farms dotted the valley drawing irrigation water from the meandering little river. The lights of downtown Arlington were visible; traffic lights blinked in their usual rhythmic staccato.

  While the dream itself never changed, it came to her predictably in bits and pieces, never progressing from beginning to end in any one episode. One segment could be mundane and the next terrifying. This night was one of those, making falling back to sleep impossible.

  Valerie replayed the dream while watching the night sky. She saw herself panicked, running hard from a hulking man in a darkened building, a terrifying killer intent on murder. Hearing his dreadful voice call her name, then laugh at her feeble attempt to escape. Merely recalling the brute’s evil laughter raised goosebumps on her skin, and Valerie shuddered.

  The man she dreaded would surely kill to take something from her, although she had no idea what it might be. She simply knew it was something terribly important, something she could never allow him to have. If he was allowed to have the thing she protected, terrible consequences would result. Plus she would be dead. She just wished she knew what he was after. What a relief it would be to know that one piece of information.

  As she ran from her antagonist, a second man shadowed her movements, providing hope of assistance. But help wouldn’t come from him; he stayed in the shadows even as the killer closed in. Panicked, Valerie’s heart pounded in her chest like a sledgehammer. She ran as hard as she could but was unable to escape. Some unknowable force pulled her toward her antagonist. But it was no use; that unknowable force was irresistible, relentlessly pulling her closer to her doom.

  Each step she took away from the monster dragged her half a step closer. Her arms and legs grew heavier until she was barely able to move. Taking hold of a door frame held her in place for a moment, but the increasing force pulled and tugged until her feet lifted from the ground. Hanging sideways in the doorway, she heard him call to her. Fear shook her to the core.

  “Valerie!” She heard her name echo in the gloom. “You can’t hide from me; give up! You can’t win!” snarled the mocking voice. Then came the evil laugh. But she knew she must continue fighting to the last ounce of her strength. She couldn’t allow herself to stop now. Everything depended on her winning the desperate battle. Although in her heart, she knew she had already lost.

  With fingers aching, Valerie began losing the tenuous grip she had on the door frame. She begged her fingers to hang on. Then to her horror, the door frame gave way. Shrieking as she sank into the unknowable darkness, she knew there was nothing more to do but die.

  Valerie was wrenched from the dream when Orson, her cat, crept onto her lap, purring softly. “Orson, you big lug!” Valerie said with a startled smile. The big tomcat was one of the few constants in her life. Orson always seemed to appear when she needed him most. Fourteen years earlier, she had inherited the old tabby upon the death of her mother. The big cat loved to snuggle with her, licking her hands with his rough tongue as she wrapped him in her arms. Which Orson did, right now.

  “Something the matter, Orson?” Valerie whispered, tilting the eyeglasses on her nose for a better view of the old cat’s form. Orson purred his appreciation. He always seems to know when I have been bothered by a dream, she thought to herself, slipping her head to the grass to rest again. Moments later, the cat was asleep, cradled in her arms.

  Although taller than most girls her age, Valerie would need time to fill out. Her body was lean and straight, although lacking the feminine curves typical of girls her age. However, her symmetric features, clear skin, full lips, and silky black hair more than made up for any deficiency in curves. The eyes behind the glasses were light blue, shining with quiet intelligence and determination. The jagged scar on her left jaw added character to her features rather than a flaw.

  Having turned eighteen recently, Valerie was preparing for high school graduation. Focus, self-discipline, and a 4.0 GPA earned her a scholarship to the University of Washington. To get there, she had made significant sacrifices, postponing getting a car, and avoiding frivolous social activities, viewing them as unnecessary distractions. There had been plenty of opportunities for boyfriends too, but she had passed on them, believing sacrifices were necessary to reach her career goal as a dermatologist.

  At that moment, Valerie felt compelled to touch her old scar. While the scar was part of her persona, it was not (as Jim and Angie Dunne had pretended for fourteen years) a grim reminder of the car crash that killed her parents. Colin and Janet Dunne had not died in a car crash; they were murdered when she was four years old. But they hadn’t lied; Jim and Angie couldn’t know the truth because the only witness at the time, Valerie, had blocked much of the tragedy from her young mind.

  The child was fortunate to have survived the attack. No one other than she and the attacker would ever know the truth of what happened that day. Single-handedly defeating her attacker at the tender age of four was wiped from her memory. Valerie escaped the carnage wrought upon her parents that day with minor injuries. Nevertheless, her life was irreversibly altered in a way that she wouldn’t understand for decades.

  Later that morning, Valerie carried Orson downstairs, where she found her Uncle James and Aunt Angela at the breakfast table. Jim read the paper while Angie watched the morning news. As she entered the room, Jim welcomed her silently with a nod over the top of the newspaper. However, Angie was much more demonstrative.

  “Good morning Valerie,” Angie sang cheerily then made a scene of hugging, rubbing her arms, and planting several loud kisses on her cheek. It was a warm household filled with love despite the loss they shared. Valerie giggled, grabbed a cup of coffee, a bagel and cream cheese, then joined them at the table.

  Jim smiled. He was tall, over six feet, thin with a pale complexion punctuated by a full head of black hair, much like his older brother Colin, Valerie’s father. However, the married couple couldn’t be more dissimilar in appearance. In contrast, Angie was barely five feet tall, a natural blonde with a round buxom shape. Jim tended to be more serious, reserved, but caring, while Angie was outgoing, everyone’s favorite aunt.

  “We heard you up late last night. Is everything alright, honey?” Angie asked as she reseated herself.

  “It was the dream again,” sighed Valerie. “I couldn’t sleep, so I went out back for a while. They are getting more intense,” she admitted, staring absently at the bagel.

  “I’m sorry sweetie,” Angie replied, placing a comforting hand atop Valerie’s. “Are you going to be alright?” Angie was well aware Valerie was regularly tormented by the same disturbing dream ever since she had come to live with them. Her concern for Valerie was heartfelt, although there was little she could do for the girl other than offer comfort. Angie met her husband’s eyes for a moment as they both knew Valerie’s time was near. Was it any wonder that her dreams were getting stronger?

  Valerie finished eating, then rushed off to school with little more than a wave and a smile. “Bye, you guys!”

  Angie forced a wave back, then turned her face back to her husband. Since the couple was childless and Valerie was Jim’s brother’s only child, they loved Valerie as their own. However, they wanted to give her the freedom to form her own opinions about their family relationship. While they would have loved to be called mom and dad, it didn’t appear their adoptive daughter shared that sentiment.

  “Angie,” Jim said as he folded the newspaper. “It’s time we had a talk with Val. We have to tell her; s
he needs to know the truth.”

  “I know, Jim,” Angie said sullenly. “I’ve worried about this for years, but—“

  “No buts, it’s time,” Jim insisted. “We need to get on with it. She’s eighteen. What if Corell Paris was to show up and she didn’t know? He will come back, and probably sooner than later. It’ll go a lot smoother for her if she knows what’s going to happen and why. It’s time to tell her,” he repeated.

  “Alright, Jim,” Angie relented, her eyes downcast. “When?”

  “Tonight.”

  ________________________

  Valerie left home early enough to meet her neighborhood friend, Darcy Ewen. She and Darcy made a habit of walking to school together. Arlington High School was a fifteen-minute walk from her home in the Glen Eagle development.

  Thе two friеndѕ walked together down thе smooth ѕidеwаlkin silence, enjoying thе serenity of thе spring morning. The ѕun, already bright in the sky, warmed their faces. The air was fresh with the pleasant scent of alder pollen swirling about. Thе best-friends didn’t ѕреаkmuсh; wоrdѕ weren’t nееdеd. They walked to and from school together, shared a locker, had classes together, and ate lunch at the same table, marginalizing the need for conversation.

  Darcy brоkе the silence first.

  “You look tired this morning. Did you sleep alright?” “No… I had a bad dream and couldn’t get back to

  sleep.”

  “Same one?”

  “Yeah, same one, only a lot worse than usual.” “Really? Worse? That’s not good,” Darcy exclaimed.

  “ Maybe you should see a doctor or something.” “Been there, done that,” Valerie said as they hurried