MOON FALL

by Tamara Thorne

  Sara couldn't scream. All she could do was stare into those dark pits, mesmerized, and bend down. Her hand seemed to be guided as she picked up the blade without looking at it. She rose, so afraid that she was beyond feeling anything but numbness. Vaguely, she felt hot blood dripping from her finger onto her palm. "You're not Jenny."

  Phantom laughter resounded in her ears, then the voice came, no longer Jenny's, but something deep and hollow and chill. It was your time to go, Sara Hawthorne, not mine. You were a coward and you let me die in your stead.

  "It wasn't her time or mine," Sara said. Fear threatened her again, and she did her best to remain calm. "Who are you? What are you?"

  You were the chosen one, the virgin, but you ran away and left your friend to die for you. You're a coward, and now you must pay.

  Dawn approached quickly now, and Sara could see streaks of pink and blue through the ghostly figure. What was it talking about? ''I never ran away."

  "You did." Again carne the horrible shrieking laughter and the phantom seemed to grow taller, looming over her, its huge black eyes locked on her own, imprisoning her in their depths.

  Even now, on the day of your death, you don't remember, do you, you little bitch?

  Sara tried to think, tried to remember what happened before she found Jenny. But how could she recall something that even her therapist couldn't draw to the surface through hypnosis?

  Remove your coat.

  Feeling the blade cut into her palm, she blindly removed her jacket, let it fall, then watched in amazement as her sweater sleeve pushed itself up to her elbow.

  Put the blade to your wrist.

  The command overwhelmed her and she began to raise the blade. What are you doing? "No!" she screamed, stopping the movement with huge effort.

  Do it.

  ''No!" But even as she cried the word, the phantom swarmed over her and again, she felt as if she were drowning in cold, thick soup. "No!" She watched in horror as the hand holding the blade rose of its own accord. Her other arm was yanked out straight by invisible hands, and she brought the blade toward her wrist. ''No!" The word sounded muted, garbled, and blood from the cuts on her fingers and hand dripped onto her outstretched inner forearm, spattering her pale skin.

  Her hand trembled as she fought, but the blade came inexorably toward her arm. The tip of the metal pressed against the flesh over the large blue vein close to the surface of her wrist. She felt a sting and saw a single pearl of blood ooze out. ''No! I won't do it!" she screamed, but she couldn't fight the force of the specter.

  I will squeeze the life from your body and hurl you into the water.

  The blade dug deeper; then she felt a tugging on her hand and knew the phantom was going to make her pull the blade up through her flesh to the elbow.

  "Be gone, spirit!"

  The powerful voice roared above the thunder of the Falls, and at that same moment, a single ray of sunlight hit her, shining through the phantom. Sara squinted against the brilliance. The force abated slightly, the urge to pull the blade was gone, but she couldn't remove it from her flesh.

  Do it now! The phantom's voice ripped through her ears, shrill and awful. Do it, bitch!

  "Be gone, spirit!" cried the new voice.

  Sara heard a spate of words she didn't understand, and then the coldness slowly left her and she saw the phantom before her, an amorphous glowing mass, thin in the sunlight. The eyes, bottomless coal pits, held her in their grip, but now her will returned. "No! I won't do it!" she screamed. She flung the blade away, over the cliff.

  You will die, old woman! The specter turned toward the Falls, and Sara turned, too, saw a tall, dark figure, its arms raised, standing on the bridge over the top of the Falls.

  "The sunlight takes you! Be gone!" cried the woman.

  You will die soon, old woman. The phantom laughter rippled through Sara's mind, and the ghostly figure turned its gaze on Sara. And you will die in pain greater than you can imagine! The laughter surrounded her, then faded until it was nothing but an echo.

  Sara picked up her coat, found a handkerchief in the breast pocket, and wrapped it around her hand. Then she looked up at the bridge, but the woman was gone.

  "Let me see."

  A hand touched her shoulder and Sara whirled, raising a fist. The old woman caught it in her hand. ''It's all right now," she said.

  Sara knew it was the voice that had stopped the phantom, but now it was softer, kinder. The woman, clad in a dress of such a dark green that it was nearly black, smiled at her. She was tall and thin, as old as time, and her dark blue eyes were kind ... and familiar.

  ''I know you," Sara said, as the woman unwrapped the handkerchief and examined the cuts.

  "These aren't bad, Sara. You were lucky."

  "I know you," she said again. Images flashed through her mind. A cottage in the woods, warm and comfortable, with a big stone fireplace where you could warm your hands. ''I know you."

  "And I know you, Sara. It's been a long time." The woman took her elbow and guided her across the meadow, then up an incline to a footpath. They crossed the bridge and turned onto a well-worn trail into the woods.

  ''I know this place," Sara murmured, aware that shock was muting her feelings and impressions. ''I know you."

  ''Of course you do. We spent many hours together years ago."

  At that moment, the cottage came into view between the trees, and suddenly, she knew. "You're Minerva."

  The old lady smiled. ''Yes, Sara. I was afraid you'd forgotten about me." She took her elbow again and urged her toward the cottage. "Come. We don't have much time."

  Sara let the old woman guide her to the house, waited while she opened the door. She was embarrassed because she knew the woman's name only because of Kelly, but inside the house, it was exactly what she expected, down to the crocheted throw on the sofa and the needlepoint pillows. "I've been here."

  ''Yes, of course you have. Come to the sink."

  She led her into the old-fashioned kitchen, past gleaming copper pans and cast-iron pots. Bunches of drying herbs hung in front of the windows, and jars and vials of mysterious potions were interspersed with Crisco and vinegar and flour on the shelves.

  Sara watched in silence as Minerva washed her hand and applied Band-Aids to the cuts. ''There, now. We just have time for a cup of tea; then you must get back to St. Gertrude's." She took cups and saucers from a cupboard and carried them to the table, nodding at Sara to follow.

  She sat down and watched as Minerva turned up the low flame under a kettle, then took a small carton of half-and-half from the century-old icebox and brought it to the table, set it beside a delicate china sugar bowl. "We haven't much time," she said briskly as she placed tea bags in the cups. ''So these will have to do." She brought the kettle over and poured steamy water into the cups, before sitting down. “Why have you returned to St. Gertrude's?"

  Briefly, Sara told her. The old woman nodded. "I understand."

  ''There are huge gaps in my memory. I know I know you. I know I've been here." Sara paused. "You're Kelly Reed's friend."

  Minerva nodded. "That's how I knew you were back. She spoke very highly of you."

  Quickly, Sara told her about Kelly's plight.

  The old woman shook her head sadly. "She's in grave danger. Do you know if she has her amulet?"

  ''They took it away from her."

  Minerva rose and went to a tin on the counter. She brought out two amulets like the one Sara had seen in Lucy's office. “Wear one yourself, and get this to Kelly somehow."

  “What is it?"

  “Nun repellent." Minerva smiled. “Ghost repellent. It will help with your willpower if you encounter the thing that had you today."

  "How?"

  "I don't question, I only know it works."

  Sara put the charm around her neck, placed the other one in her pocket. "I don't know how, but I'll see that she gets it"

  "I know."

  ''Minerva, what was that thing? I thought it was Jenny
. That's the second time it's fooled me."

  "There's nothing of Jenny at the abbey. There's only evil." She sat forward. "I don't know exactly what it is. A Christian might call it a demon. I think it's a revenant of some sort,"

  "A what?"

  "You've forgotten many things."

  Sara looked at her hands. "Yes. I've spent years trying to remember." .

  ''I know. A revenant is a ghost. A ghost is nothing but an unintelligent ball of power. It's a shell. When someone takes control of it and directs it, using its energy for his own purposes, then it becomes a revenant. The revenant you encountered is very powerful, as you know. And I must caution you, whoever is directing it is also very powerful."

  "The nuns?"

  "Probably. As long as you're there, you must be very cautious. Trust no one. They still want to kill you."

  "But why?"

  "You were the sacrificial lamb that got away."

  ''The ghost said Jenny died instead of me." She hesitated. "I don't remember what happened before she died."

  "You came here. Do you remember how many girls disappeared from the abbey while you were there?"

  Sara shook her head. ''They disappeared all the time."

  "I didn't tell you this then because you were too young and sensitive, but those nuns use virgins as sacrifices for their orchards."

  "That's nuts."

  Minerva looked amused. "Not nuts, apples. Most of these girls are undocumented; it's easy for the nuns to kill them and claim they're runaways, or have been adopted. Trust me, Sara. I'm telling you the truth."

  "Why don't the police do anything?"

  “The nuns have certain abilities to cloak themselves, to make sure the town doesn't think about them too much. They give much to their dark god to keep it that way, and if someone ever did catch on, there would be no proof. It would be a story like the one about the gargoyles collecting babies for my stew pot."

  Sara nodded slowly. "What god do they worship?"

  "Why, Satan, of course. Look at their rosaries. If you could examine the cross on the chapel, you would find that the portion set into the building is much shorter than the top. It's inverted. Their 'bibles' are in Latin. If you knew what the translation was, you'd be very surprised."

  "But why do they dress like nuns if they're the opposite?" Sara was having trouble swallowing all this.

  “As I told the sheriff, you must first be Christian to turn to its opposite pole. It's the same with everything. I'm a healer who follows the right-hand path." She chuckled. "At least, for the most part. That puts me on the same side as a sincere Christian. We try to give what we can. A sorcerer of the left hand path and a Satanist both believe in self-gratification above all else. They take. It's very simple. And often tempting." The grandfather clock chimed six. "You must go."

  Sara rose. She had many questions but restricted herself to just one more. "You talked to the sheriff about this?"

  "You know him?"

  "Yes. I met Mark last night, too."

  "Good. You like John, don't you?"

  "I-"

  "It's in your eyes." Minerva took her hands briefly. "It's good that you do, because he's slow to listen to me. And he must, or he'll lose his son. Try to influence him." She walked her to the door. "Make sure no one knows where you've been, and please, return soon. We have much to talk about."

  ''I will," Sara said. She was having trouble comprehending it all. "What's the quickest way back?"

  ''Through the forest." Minerva hesitated, then took her shawl from a coat rack by the door. ''I'll go with you."

  "You don't have to- "

  ''Yes, it's for the best." She pulled the door closed and locked it. "The woods won't be safe for a while. When you come back, drive. Then, stay on the path to my house. Make sure Kelly understands this as well."

  Sara had been afraid that Minerva Payne would slow her down, but she could barely keep up with her. When they crossed onto St. Gertrude's land, the old lady moved even more quickly, speaking only once.

  "Can you feel them?"

  Sara glanced around the dark woods. "Feel who?"

  "Them. The dark forces, the nightflyers, the elementals. They're watching us. It's easy to get lost here. They can confuse you without much effort."

  Sara did feel something, there was no denying it, and when they came to the road by the abbey, she was relieved. She turned to Minerva. "There's still time. I can get my car and drive you home."

  "Thank you, child, but no; the forest can't hurt me." She smiled. "It wouldn't dare." ·

  Sara nodded.

  ''Get the amulet to Kelly as soon as you can. It should buy her some time- and some safety, if the demons visit her."

  "Time?''

  "She's sure to be their next virginal sacrifice on Halloween night." Minerva eyed her. "And you, my dear, are in as much peril as she, and as Mark. We must stop them or many more lives will be lost."

  "What- "

  "Go. We'll talk later." Minerva smiled gently, then turned and disappeared into the forest.

  Forty-nine

  When John arrived at the station at eight A.M., he found Winky Addams waiting for him in his office.

  "Wink," he said, as the other man rose to shake his hand. "How's Corey?"

  "Not so good. He's at home. The doc's still got him under sedation."

  "I'm sorry to hear that. He wasn't hurt, was he?"

  "Not physically. How's your boy? Corey said he was bitten by the same thing that got Pete Parker."

  "He's all right. Insisted on going to school." John sat down at his desk.

  ''Really?"

  "That's how he deals with things. He just sort of plunges ahead and tries not to think about them." John, secretly proud of his son, didn't mention the long talk they'd had last night. He sat forward, studying his old friend. Winky's blond hair had thinned and his waistline had broadened a little over the years, but his face still bore the same boyishly benign look. "What can I do for you?"

  "I want to know what killed the Parker boy."

  "So do I." John paused. "Some kind of bird of prey, as near as I can guess at this point."

  "What are you planning to do?" Addams's left eyelid twitched as he spoke.

  "I haven't decided yet."

  "You going to go looking for the thing?"

  John nodded slowly. "I thought I'd go out to St. Gertrude's and ask around first. I'm told that these hawks, or whatever they are, probably inhabit their land. Maybe the nuns know where the nest is." He paused, then mused, ''Remember when we were kids? We thought they were gargoyles."

  The eye twitched harder. "From what Corey said, maybe we were right."

  "What did he say?"

  ''That its eyes glowed like a cat's and the beak was long, black, and hooked." Winky paused. "The eyes were on the front of the face, predator-style. Think we have some sort of overgrown mutant owls around here?''

  "It's possible. I always thought it was a species of hawk, but I guess an owl's more likely, though the description of the beak doesn't really fit."

  Winky nodded. "Couldn't be a bat?"

  ''No. Frank Cutter said the bite on Mark's neck was definitely from some sort of bird." He paused. "Say, Winky, you still hunt?"

  ''Occasionally."

  "You want to help me track the thing down, once I have a better idea where to look?"

  "We'd have to do our hunting on St. Gruesome's land?"

  He nodded. "Looks that way."

  "I hate that place. Maybe you should take one of your deputies, instead."

  John looked up quickly. ''Why do you hate it?"

  "I don't know." Winky rubbed his chin. "I just do."

  There's no time like the present. John steeled himself. ''Wink, what do you remember about the night my brother died?"

  ''What do you mean?'' he asked, his expression pained.

  "Did we go to St. Gruesome's that night?"

  "Oh, Christ, John, not that again."

  John forced a chuckle. "Hey, I
haven't brought it up for over two decades."

  "Seems like yesterday." Winky had a faraway look in his eyes.

  "Yeah, it does. And with all that's been happening, well, let's just say it's been on my mind a lot lately. Gus told me that he overheard all of us arguing about whether we'd gone there or not."

  ''When was that?"

  "Not long after it happened. He seems to think we went."

  "No, we didn't." Winky didn't sound too sure.

  ''He also thinks Doug Buckman's death was related. Remember how he insisted we did go out there?"

  "Yeah, vaguely, but Doug was always goofing. Your grandad's imagining things."

  ''Maybe. Maybe he is." He decided not to bring up his father's involvement. "Listen, Winky, do you think Corey will be up to it if I drop by later today to ask him some questions?"

  "Call first. Hopefully he'll be okay by then." Winky stood up. "John?"

  "Yeah?"

  "You ever have nightmares?"

  ''All the time."

  Winky's eye twitched again. "Yeah, me, too. See you later."

  John watched his old friend lumber out the door, then picked up the phone and put in a call to Gus. There was no answer.

  Fifty

  ''Jan, you're such a bitch," Marcia Crowley sneered, flipping her golden hair away from her face. "/ deserved first place and you know it."

  ''Girls," warned Sara. ''Take your seats. The bell rang five minutes ago." It was the last class before lunch, and obviously, it was going to be the worst one yet. Marcia Crowley and her entire clique was present and all, evidently, were in the throes of PMS.

  ''Marcia, Marcia, Marcia!" the girl with long blond hair screeched, paying absolutely no attention to Sara. "It's always Marcia, Marcia, Marcia!" She stomped her foot. "My essay was better than yours. Everybody knows it."

  "Then why didn't you get the ribbon?" Marybeth Tingler taunted.

  "Because Marcia is Sister Abby's favorite." Jan scowled. "What'd you do, Marcia, lick her-"

  "Girls!" Sara thundered, with a clap of her hands. "Take your seats!"

  Grudgingly, turning their glowers on Sara, they obeyed.

  The day had not gone well so far. By the time she'd cleaned up and changed her clothes, Sara had barely made it to her first class on time. The only good thing was that she hadn't run into anyone in the halls or in the lavatory.