Ebon Moon

  “Thanks,” Jessica replied.

  Pearl nodded toward the stage. “Time to fire up the karaoke machine and get this party started.”

  The next couple of hours became a whirlwind rush of serving cold beer, bad karaoke singing, and boisterous drunks arguing back and forth about the OU football game score. One old man at the bar peaked down her top every time she bent over to pull a beer out of the ice boxes below the counter. Jessica wished he would put a dollar in her tip jar each time he got a free show. She looked in on Megan, but the time between checks got longer. The smoke became so thick her eyes started to burn. At about ten, she glanced into the back room and her heart went cold.

  Collin sat on the cot next to Megan. She had an art pad in her lap and concentrated on drawing a picture with her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth.

  “What are you doing?” she called out, completely forgetting about her customers.

  “I noticed she didn’t have her coloring book, so I gave her something to draw on,” Collin replied, looking up with his cold gaze. “She looked bored.”

  “How did you know she had a coloring book?”

  “Lucky guess,” Collin said with a shrug.

  “Mommy threw my coloring book away,” Megan said and continued drawing on the pad. “It had scary pictures.”

  Jessica stepped into the back room. “Thank you, but she’s not supposed to talk to anyone.”

  “I was just being nice.” Collin stood to his feet. “You’re the boss.”

  He brushed past and went into the serving area behind the bar.

  “Can you take over for a bit?” she asked behind him. Collin’s only response was to start taking money for beer.

  Jessica sat on the bed next to Megan. “What are you drawing, sweetie?”

  “The Bad Wolf.” She passed the art pad over for her to see. Drawn in crude pencil lines, the picture showed something bestial with big teeth and wild eyes.

  Jessica fought a chill down her spine. “Is this what you saw last night?”

  “Uh huh,” Megan said with a nod and went back to drawing. Her pink tongue stuck out again.

  Jessica spotted the empty can of Sprite. “You got to go pee, baby?”

  “Uh huh.”

  Not wanting to take her daughter out through the crowded bar to use the restroom, she nodded toward the back exit door. “You can pee outside.”

  “Outside?” Megan blinked.

  “Come on, I’ll show you.”

  Taking Megan’s hand, she helped her off the cot and opened the back door. The cool night air blew into the room replacing the smoke. With her daughter by her side, she stepped out on the deck and let the door close behind her, cutting off the noise of the bar. A short distance away stretched the winding footpath through the wall of dark trees. Under a full moon, the silhouette of the large wooden barn stood in the distance.

  Jessica took a second to breathe deeply.

  “Where do I go, Mommy?” Megan asked.

  “We’ll use the trail through the trees,” she answered, helping Megan down the steps to the ground.

  Once off the deck, she led her daughter across the moist grass to the mouth of the path. Dark tree limbs stretched overhead like spiny fingers interlocked together.

  “You can go here, baby.”

  “No, I can’t, Mommy.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t have anything to wash my hands with.”

  Jessica sighed. “I’ve got some baby wipes in the car.” She took Megan by the hand again. “Let’s go get them.”

  They walked along the back wall of the bar and rounded the corner. Twenty-five yards away, the Camaro waited in its parking space in the crowded lot. She was about to cross the distance when a black pickup truck slowed to a stop behind her car. Jessica stepped back around the corner of the building bringing Megan in close to her. Holding her breath, she prayed the black truck wasn’t driven by Blake.

  “What’s wrong, Mommy?”

  “Quiet, baby,” she whispered.

  Peering around the corner with her heart thumping, she watched the passenger door open and Brody Carlson climb out. In the garish neon light provided by the bar, he sported a white bandage on the side of his skull, making his head look misshapen. Debbie Miller sat inside the cab smoking a cigarette beside a man she didn’t recognize.

  “It’s the bitch’s car,” Brody announced. “She’s here.”

  “Good,” Debbie replied, tossing out the lit cigarette butt on the gravel. “Let’s go inside. I want to see her face when we show up again.”

  Brody produced a knife out of his pocket. The blade glinted in the light of the full moon. He knelt beside the back tire of the Camaro. “Let me slash the tires first.”

  “You idiot, it’s too obvious to do it while we’re still here. Wait until we leave.”

  “Fuck it.” Brody stood, put the knife back in his pocket, and climbed back into the truck. The passenger door slammed shut as the pickup rolled away to find a parking space.

  “I got to go pee, Mommy.” Megan tugged on her hand.

  Jessica undid the front of Megan’s jeans and yanked them down. “Go now, baby. Quickly.”

  Megan squatted. “Is something wrong, Mommy?”

  “We need to get back inside.”

  While her daughter urinated in the shadow of the wall, Jessica considered her next course of action. She had maybe two minutes before the black pickup parked and unloaded everyone. Enough time to get to her purse and pistol. She came to the stark realization she had made another stupid mistake bringing her daughter to the bar. She should’ve known better. Now she had to get Megan safely back home.

  “All done, Mommy,” Megan said, standing from her crouch.

  Jessica pulled up and fastened her jeans. “Good girl.”

  Grabbing her by the hand, she rushed to the back door with Megan trying to keep up. Once inside the back room, she put her daughter back on the cot.

  “Stay here, baby, until Mommy gets you.”

  “Okay,” Megan replied, sensing her mother’s fear.

  Glancing out at the bar, she spotted Roxie picking up a tray full of beer at the end of the counter. She motioned for her to come back. Collin was busy ringing in money to the register.

  “What’s up?” Roxie asked.

  “Debbie Miller and Brody are on their way in here.” Jessica opened the door of her locker and reached into her purse. Roxie’s eyes went wide as she removed the .357 pistol.” I saw them out by my car. Brody wanted to slash my tires with a knife.”

  “Whoa! What are you doing with that pistol?” Roxie asked with eyes wide.

  “Protection.” She tucked it in the waistband of her jeans and covered it with her shirt. “I won’t let them vandalize my car.”

  “Just stay back here and I’ll have Collin handle it.”

  “What’s up?” Collin asked from the bar.

  “Debbie Miller and her friends are back to cause more trouble,” Roxie answered.

  Collin slammed shut the register drawer and grabbed up the sawed-off end of the pool stick from under the counter. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Be careful,” Jessica stated. “Brody has a knife.”

  Debbie, Brody, and the third man Jessica didn’t know entered through the front door. They stood in the entrance scanning the interior until they spotted her behind the bar. Immediately, Brody headed in her direction tailed by Debbie and her companion.

  “Bitch, who did this to me!” he screamed at her above the noisy crowd and pointed to the side of his bandaged head. “I got forty stitches in my skull.”

  Collin showed the makeshift club. “Brody, get your ass out of here, and take your friends with you.”

  “Fuck you, Collin,” he snapped back, his bruised face livid with anger. “We ain’t leaving until that bitch tells me who fucked my head up last night.”

  From over Brody’s shoulder, Debbie looked straight at her and grinned. The little skank set this up, Jessica real
ized.

  The crowd began to take notice of the shouting. Even the karaoke singer on the stage stopped her rendition of a Shania Twain song as everyone focused on the drama. The old man who had looked down her cleavage all night moved out of his bar stool and stood to the side.

  “Tell me who did this, bitch!” Brody shouted again.

  “If you don’t get out of my bar I’m going to fuck up the other side of your head,” Collin said in his gruff voice.

  “I ain’t afraid of you, Collin.” Brody produced the knife from the pocket of his jacket. “You want some of me, big boy? Come and get it!”

  Jessica wasn’t sure what took place next because it happened so fast. One second, Collin stood on the other side of the bar; the next, he cleared it in an amazing leap. He landed on his feet next to a surprised Brody, who reacted by stabbing him with the blade in his hand. Jessica gasped in shock as the point of the knife sunk deep into Collin’s abdomen. An instant later the brawny bartender had his hand around Brody’s throat.

  “Get out of my bar,” Collin said in a voice almost animal-like as he shoved him up against a wall.

  Brody’s eyes went wide as he struggled against the hold. “Okay … okay, man.” His knife dropped to the floor.

  Collin released his hold and shoved him out the front door. He next turned to Debbie. “You, too,” he growled.

  “You tell that two-bit whore hiding behind the bar this isn’t over,” Debbie replied, pointing toward Jessica. “This isn’t over by a long shot, bitch.”

  The other man who came in with Debbie put his hands on her shoulders. “Let’s go, Deb. We don’t need this shithole place to party. We can go to the lake and do that.”

  “Fine,” Debbie said, storming out of the bar.

  After she left, Jessica rushed for the front door to make sure none of them vandalized her car.

  “Jess, wait!” Roxie called out after her.

  Jessica stopped in the open door watching the black pickup tear out of the parking lot, kicking up gravel in its wake. Exhaling a breath of relief, she turned to Collin standing behind her.

  “My God, are you all right? Do you need to go to the hospital?” she asked.

  “I’m fine,” he replied. “Why?”

  “I saw him stab you—”

  “I’m fine,” he interrupted.

  Jessica glanced down at the bloody knife on the floor. “He cut you.”

  “He didn’t cut me,” Collin replied, picking up the blade. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Somebody needs to call Sheriff Sutton,” one of the customers suggested. “Brody Carlson is as crazy as he is stupid. He might come back here with a gun.”

  With that announcement, the bar cleared out as people left in a hurry. The fight had put a damper on the mood in the place. Jessica returned to the back room.

  “Mommy, are you okay?” Megan asked on the verge of tears.

  “We’re leaving, baby,” she replied, opening the locker and removing her purse. “Come on.”

  Jessica emptied out her tip jar.

  Roxie was on the phone apparently to Sheriff Sutton. “Are you going, Jess?” she asked, pausing her phone conversation.

  “Yes. I’m sorry, Rox, this isn’t working out. I won’t be able to work here anymore.” She faced Collin, who blocked her way to the door with a fierce look in his dark eyes.

  “You’re going to run out just like that?” he asked. “I just protected your ass from Brody.”

  “I’ve got to think of my daughter.”

  “I think you should stay here.”

  “I’m done with this place.”

  “Why don’t you and your lovely daughter return to the back room?” His dark eyes glinted.

  “Get out of my way, Collin.” The way he looked at Megan made her stomach knot. Jessica reached into her waistband for the grip of the .357 pistol. “Now.”

  “She’s got a gun,” Roxie stated from behind the bar.

  Collin smiled, stepping aside. “Okay.”

  She left with Megan in tow. With hurried footsteps, they walked to the Camaro while the parking lot emptied of cars and trucks. She unlocked the front door and helped Megan inside. Starting the engine, she glanced toward the front of the tavern one last time. Roxie and Collin stood in the doorway watching her leave. A strange chill went down her spine at the sight. She gunned the motor and tore out of the parking lot.

  Two miles down the highway, Jessica broke down in tears. She pulled over to the grassy shoulder and wept.

  “Mommy, don’t be sad.” Megan undid her seatbelt and hugged her mother tightly.

  “I’m sorry, baby,” she sobbed against her daughter’s blonde locks. “I’m so sorry.”

  Through her tears, she noticed headlights growing brighter in the rearview. Blue and red lights suddenly flashed as a patrol car pulled behind the Camaro. She wiped her eyes as Sheriff Sutton got out, walked up to the driver’s side, and tapped on the glass.

  Cranking down the window, she asked, “Are you giving me a ticket?”

  “I heard what happened at the bar,” he said with a grim face. “I’m escorting you home.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Terry Newman leaned his crossbow against a tree and shifted his body to keep from falling asleep. Cramped from squatting in the same place for too long, he checked his watch. Four hours had passed since he hid in the brush by the creek with no sign of a werewolf or any other creature moving about the dark trees. Deciding to join Sid for a few minutes, he pulled the walkie-talkie off his belt and pushed the send button.

  “Hey,” he radioed.

  “Anakin?” the speaker hissed back. “Is that you?”

  “Very funny,” he sent back. “I’m coming over.”

  He picked up the crossbow and walked to the deer stand. Fifteen feet above him, Sid perched with his legs hanging over the edge of the platform.

  “I feel like Tarzan up here,” he said, putting aside the binoculars.

  “Have you seen anything yet?”

  “Not a fucking thing,” Sid replied. “Dude, how long are we going to stay out here?”

  “All night, if we have to,” Terry replied and turned his attention toward the quiet farm under the light of the full moon. Both the house and trailer were dark. “We have to make sure Jessica is safe.”

  “I don’t know how much longer I want to freeze my ass off.”

  “Just a few hours more,” Terry stated. “You can last that long.”

  “Wait,” Sid said, grabbing up the binoculars and pointing them toward the farmyard. “A car is pulling in.”

  Headlights of two cars drove around the back of the barn and parked in front of the trailer. From the distance across the dark field, he recognized Jessica’s Camaro but not the other car.

  “What’s Sheriff Dickhead doing here?” Sid asked, watching with the field glasses.

  “Is that his car?”

  “It sure as fuck is,” Sid answered.

  Car doors slammed. Terry spotted Jessica, Megan, and the sheriff walking to the trailer. They disappeared inside as lights went on throughout the house.

  “What’s he up to?” Terry asked.

  “Probably going to get him a piece of tail off that fine mama,” Sid remarked.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Dude, don’t get jealous. You’re just pissed because she turned you down.”

  “Jessica can do so much better than that creep.” Terry exhaled a long, weary breath. “I’m going back to my hiding spot. Radio if you see anything.”

  “I just wish I could see through the trailer windows,” Sid remarked with the binoculars glued to his eyes. “Dude, I sure would like to peep in on Jessica taking her clothes off.”

  “Quit being such a perv. You’re looking for a werewolf. Remember?”

  “If you say so.”

  With a heavy heart, Terry returned to his spot under the brush of the creek bank. He had hoped to impress Jessica by slaying a monster for her. Now his fantasy la
y shattered, thanks to the stupid sheriff. If anything happened now, Sheriff Dutton would be there to protect her. Still, he promised Mr. Higgins on his deathbed that he would kill the werewolf, and he meant to carry it through until the end.

  * * * *

  “Jess, we need to talk.” Sheriff Sutton stood just inside the door of the trailer with his uniform cap in his hands.

  “Have a seat while I put Megan to bed,” Jessica replied.

  “Do I have to?” Megan pleaded. “Can’t I stay up?”

  “Not tonight, baby.” She took her daughter by the hand and led her to the restroom. After Megan washed her face, Jessica tucked her into the bed.

  “You sleep in your bed tonight, baby.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll leave a light on.” She knelt by her daughter on the mattress. “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

  “Good night, Mommy.”

  “Good night.” She kissed her on the forehead.

  “Is the sheriff spending the night, too?” Megan asked innocently.

  Jessica paused. “I’m just going to talk to him for a while.”

  “I don’t like to see Mommy cry.”

  “I know, sweetie. Sometimes Mommy is sad that things aren’t better for us.”

  “Things will get better.”

  “I hope so. Now go to sleep.”

  She softly closed the door and walked back down the narrow hallway into the living room. Sheriff Sutton sat on the recliner leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He looked up when she entered and showed a thin smile.

  “Megan’s gone to bed,” Jessica stated, adding, “Thanks for following us home. Would you like some coffee?”

  “Let’s talk first.” He nodded toward her to sit on the couch adjoining the recliner.

  “Fine.” Jessica settled into the divan. “You’re the sheriff.”

  “I noticed a pickup parked in front of the barn. It’s driven by Terry Newman.”

  “Terry and his friend are deer hunting. Sam gave them permission to do so.”

  Sheriff Sutton chuckled. “If I know them, they’re probably doing more pot smoking than deer hunting. I guarantee it. Those two slackers have been a thorn in my side lately.”