MOON FALL

by Tamara Thorne

  It was a powerful feeling, the kind that Minerva Payne had rightly accused him of having. Instinct, intuition, precognition: whatever it was, he knew it was true.

  He drove home. Trying to keep his mind off Sara- he couldn't do anything for her until he heard her story tomorrow- he concentrated on Minerva. Until now, he'd forgotten about the envelope she'd given him at the cemetery and he was suddenly very curious about its contents.

  As always, the house seemed empty with Mark gone, so he turned on the TV to fill the void, then went to the closet and retrieved the envelope from his suit. He returned to the living room. The X-Files was just starting. It was Mark's favorite, and John knew he and Corey were probably glued to the Addamses' set. Normally he avoided the show, as he avoided anything with a touch of the weird, but he found himself watching it, engrossed. During each commercial, he examined the envelope but didn't open it; now that it was in his hands, he wasn't so sure he wanted to know what was inside. Whatever it was, it would no doubt complicate his life even more. But it might have some bearing on Mark's safety ...

  The ending credits rolled and grimly, slowly, John opened the envelope. First he drew out a note written on a piece of stationery in an elegant, precise hand. ''Please study the enclosed history and then return it to me. It is more important than you realize. Sincerely, Minerva Payne." He set the note aside and unfolded a sheet of typing paper. It was a hastily written copy of the Lawson family tree.

  Family Tree

  He had never looked at the family tree before; it just wasn't something that had interested him. But now he found it fascinating. For a moment, he wondered how Minerva had come to have a copy; then he saw that Tobias's son Joshua had married a woman named Emma Payne Moonfall. By the birth date, she had to be Jeremiah Moonfall's daughter. That surprised him, but it was Emma Moonfall's middle name, Payne, that intrigued him. Was there actually a tie to Minerva, as well? He wondered if Minerva came from some offshoot of the clan. Was that why the old woman kept insisting he and Mark and Gus had the same "gift" for intuition as she?

  Taking the paper, he went into his office and pulled a small paperbound book, The Story of Moonfall, from a shelf. He turned to the section on Jeremiah Moonfall and read one sentence: Jeremiah Moonfall and his wife Minerva arrived here in 1875.

  ''Minerva?" he asked aloud. He scanned the pages and found that the Moonfalls had three daughters; Emma, who married his ancestor, Tobias, and two others, Leticia and Desma, both of whom presumably left the town- they were mentioned no further. Perhaps, he thought, one of them had gotten pregnant out of wedlock and that had led to Minerva's line. She would have been shunned. Perhaps she went to live in the cabin in the woods where the Minerva he knew now lived. The townsfolk wouldn't have wanted to have anything to do with an unwed mother, and the witch stories might have been started at that time. Whether he was right or not, he didn't know, but it did make sense.

  He returned to his chair in the living room and perused the chart again. The blood tie couldn't be the only thing Minerva had wanted him to see, could it? If so, then she was reading importance into it that just wasn't there. Study it, she had said.

  And then there was Gus. That night at the tavern, he had talked about cycles, something to do with a passage of years. Gazing at the chart, he saw that the Lawsons seemed to produce only male children, which was probably nothing but coincidence. Tobias Lawson and his wife had had two sons, Joshua and Albert. Albert had died in 1900 at the age of fourteen, while Joshua had grown up and married Emma Moonfall. Together, they'd produced his grandfather, Agustus, and another son, Edward, who'd died in 1924, aged thirteen. Gus, in turn, had had two sons, John's father, Henry, and Howard, who'd died in 1948, aged fourteen. Then came John and his own brother Greg, who'd died in 1972, at the age of ten. And now there was only Mark, who would be fourteen on October twenty-first.

  There was no pattern to the deaths of the surviving brothers all died at well-advanced ages except for his own father.

  But there was a definite pattern to the early deaths. All were between the ages of ten and fourteen, and they had died in 1900, 1924, 1948, and 1972. All the deaths were twenty-four years apart- and that was what Gus had said: there was a twenty-four-year cycle.

  Minerva had told him it was important to his son's safety that he talk to her after reading the family tree. It's 1996. Mark is the right age.

  It's nonsense ... isn't it? He stared at the chart, trying to convince himself it was all a huge coincidence. But if this had been an impersonal case he was investigating, he knew he wouldn't deny the link. Not in a million years.

  But why had no one said anything before this? Why hadn't anyone noticed the pattern? Twenty-four years is a long time. And Gus knew about it. His grandfather had seen it happen twice; why hadn't he spoken up sooner? Maybe because he didn't really believe it. Lord knew John himself was skeptical.

  He glanced at the clock. It was far too late to visit Minerva tonight. He sat back and tried to remember how his father's brother had died, but he realized that he had no knowledge of any of the youthful deaths except Greg's, and what he knew of that was terribly sketchy, even though he must have been present. He needed to know the dates the others had died. He had a feeling, though, that he already did: the same day of the year as Greg. He also wanted to know the ways they'd met their deaths.

  Gus would have stored the information somewhere in his house, but it would be easier emotionally to check the county records on Monday. For that matter, he could possibly get the dates at the cemetery on his way to Minerva's tomorrow.

  He folded the sheet and replaced it in the envelope, then sat back and tried to concentrate on the television's mindless babbling. It was a losing battle.

  He turned his thoughts to the kiss he and Sara had shared, and finally he fell asleep, lulled by remembered pleasures that soon fled under nightmare visions of Gus, Pete Parker, Greg, and finally, his own son, all begging him for help he was incapable of providing.

  Fifty-eight

  ''Thank you for a pleasant evening, Richard." Sara stepped out of the doctor's black BMW before he could come around to open the door for her. She pulled her coat close around her, nervous in the dark garage. Although Richard had been chivalrous since she'd returned to the tavern after seeing John Lawson, she was uneasy, unable to stop wondering if he might have seen them together, even though he gave no indication that he had.

  The garage was unbearably dark and she gladly let Dashwood take her arm and guide her outside.

  "Would you like to come to my apartment for a nightcap?" he asked after they navigated the damp lawn and were safely on the stone walkway.

  "I would, but I'm getting a headache," she said, cringing at the sound of the hoariest old excuse in the book coming from her mouth.

  "I can give you something for it."

  "No, thanks, it's just from the wine. It'll go away when I go to bed. To sleep," she added lamely.

  ''I have something that will get rid of it much faster." As he spoke, he gently put his finger under her chin and tilted it up to make her look at him. At his eyes.

  Sure enough, once she gazed into them, she was tempted to change her answer. "I'm sorry," she said with effort. "Not tonight."

  He kissed her gently on the lips, and while it wasn't unpleasant, she felt none of the magic, none of the passion that she had experienced with John. There was, she decided, no comparison.

  "Are you certain?" he asked.

  ''Another time," she said, forcing a smile and setting her gaze at a point just above his eyes. She knew she would have acquiesced if it hadn't been for the fresh memory of John Lawson's kiss.

  He smiled, unoffended. ''Then at least allow me to see you to your building."

  "I'd like that."

  They strolled to the dormitory; then Dashwood stopped in the shadows. "I'll watch until you're safely inside. I don't want to sully your reputation among the girls."

  She nodded. "Richard, this probably isn't the right time, but I wonder
if you might do me a favor."

  "Anything, as long as you promise to see me again."

  "Of course."

  "What is it, then?"

  "Kelly Reed."

  "She's fine."

  "I know, but she's been locked up for a week already, and I can't stop worrying about her. Do you think you might be able to convince Mother Lucy to stay her sentence?"

  "She's very strict about such things."

  Sara smiled. "But she dotes on you." "Dotes" wasn't the right word, she thought- "lusts after" was closer. "She'll listen to you."

  "I don't know," he said slowly.

  "You sound as if you're afraid of her." That, she thought, should kick in the testosterone.

  "How little you know," the doctor said gently. "If you're wise, you'll be afraid of her, too."

  She hadn't expected the answer. "Why?"

  He hesitated a long moment, then bent and kissed her on the lips. "I'll see what I can do."

  "Thank you. Once she's out of solitary, I'll be able to concentrate on other things."

  "Like me?"

  She smiled coyly, and after the barest of nods, turned and walked swiftly to the door, smiling to herself. She'd behaved as badly as Marcia Crowley and her crowd. Normally, that kind of manipulative female behavior repelled her, but not this time. She smiled to herself. Desperate times, desperate measures.

  She'd finally won a round and probably secured Kelly's freedom.

  Fifty-nine

  John sat on the little overstuffed sofa across from the old lady in the rocker, a cup and saucer in his hands. Anxious to get his questions answered, he'd tried to refuse the tea, but she had insisted on the amenities and he'd found he didn't really want to resist her. "Minerva, you said you still have some relatives who come to see you now and then."

  ''Yes," she replied, her face unreadable.

  "Would that be Mark and me?"

  The mask evaporated into a broad smile. "You've done your homework."

  "You're named for Jeremiah Moonfall's wife. It wasn't too difficult to figure out."

  She chuckled softly. "Named for Jeremiah's wife. I've never thought about it that way before."

  ''May I ask you a personal question?"

  "Of course." She smiled. "I might even answer."

  "Was your grandmother one of Emma Moonfall Lawson's unmarried sisters?"

  She rocked for a moment, then looked him in the eye. ''No."

  "Then one of them must have been your mother."

  "No. Neither girl bore children. My mother's identity isn't important. What is, is whether you understand why I'm concerned about Mark."

  He nodded. He had briefly stopped by the cemetery on his way to the cottage and now knew that all the young Lawsons had died on October thirty-first. "Every twenty-four years an adolescent Lawson child dies. This is the twenty-fourth year, and my son is the only candidate."

  "Exactly. I've tried to break the cycle, but I've been unsuccessful."

  ''You mean you tried when Greg died?"

  ''Yes, among others."

  ''Minerva," he said, sitting forward. ''I don't understand any of this." He raised his hands helplessly. "I'm willing to listen, I want to listen, but you're speaking in riddles. I think like a cop. I need plain answers."

  "Then you shall have them. More tea?" she asked, a twinkle in her eye.

  He didn't take the bait. "No, thanks. Are you telling me that Greg's death wasn't an accident?"

  "Nor were any of the others."

  ''Then you're alleging that the same murderer has been active for nearly a century."

  "Longer, and plural. But to understand, you must listen to my story. Will you?" She fixed him with bird-bright eyes.

  He settled back, resigned. "Yes, I'll listen."

  "In 1876, shortly after the arrival of Jeremiah and Minerva Moonfall, a son, Gerald, was born to them. He died on Halloween, two weeks after his birth."

  ''Why isn't he in the cemetery, or mentioned in any histories of the area?"

  "Except for the nuns who had recently moved into the old abbey, Minerva and Jeremiah were virtually the only people on the mountain. Even Tobias and May Lawson wouldn't arrive for nearly two years. There was no cemetery in those days, John." The old lady's eyes glistened. "And even if there had been, there was no body."

  A tear ran down her wrinkled cheek. ''Gerald was carried off by a nightflyer." She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. "Ironic, isn't it? Generations of Moonfall children tell stories about the nightflyers stealing babies to bring to me. Instead, they took one away. From Minerva Moonfall," she added quickly.

  Having seen the condition of Pete Parker's body, John had no trouble believing such a thing could happen. ''Yes, but I don't understand how this connects with my son."

  ''Blood ties and blood feuds. And friendships. The Lawsons arrived here in 1878, and they quickly became close friends with the Moonfalls. Tobias and May had two sons, Albert and Joshua. Minerva and Jeremiah went on to have three daughters, Emma, Leticia, and Desma, but no other sons. Emma was the only one who inherited Minerva's gift. Perhaps that's what helped keep her alive." She sat back, a faint smile on her face as the chair rocked gently. "Emma Moonfall and Joshua Lawson were a match from the time they were in diapers. Time passed, and hardships tested both families. Leticia drowned in the falls, and Desma disappeared into the woods one day never to be seen again. Then, in 1900, on Halloween night, Albert Lawson disappeared. His body was found four days later in St. Gertrude's woods. He was torn limb from limb. That death was attributed to a bear attack, but it was no bear that killed him. He died because it was time for the sacrifice and he was chosen because the murderers knew of the friendship between the two families."

  "Who were the murderers, and why were they out to hurt the Moonfalls?"

  "All in good time. You promised to listen."

  John nodded, biting his tongue.

  Minerva closed her eyes a long moment, then peered closely at him. "Fortunately, Joshua and Emma lived. Minerva had tried to use her powers- witchcraft, magic, whatever you wish to call them- to save all the children from harm, but there was too much evil for a solitary practitioner to control, and she knew she was lucky that her own Emma and Joshua Lawson both made it to adulthood.

  "They married and officially mingled the bloodlines, bringing Edward and your grandfather, Augustus, into this world. And on Halloween night, exactly twenty-four years after Albert's death, Edward disappeared. The next day, his body was found in a ditch by Apple Hill Road- it was just a dirt track back then. It was decided he'd been run over by a horse-drawn apple cart belonging to a local drunk." She shook her head. "But it wasn't true. The drunk wasn't even in town that night. The body had other wounds that couldn't be explained. Knife wounds. But he was buried and that was that. ''A month later, a final blow was struck to Jeremiah and Minerva. Emma was found dead, a rope around her neck, in an old oak that used to stand where my vegetable garden is now. It was widely believed that she killed herself out of grief over her son's death." Anger sparked in her eyes. "But she was murdered for nothing but spite."

  "How do you know all this?"

  ''I know. The deaths of the daughters were deaths-in-effigy. Minerva was the one who was supposed to die, but they could not touch her."

  "Who are 'they'?"

  "Patience, young man. Augustus married and produced your father, Henry, and his brother, Howard, who died Halloween, 1948, another sacrifice. Supposedly, he died in a thresher accident, although why he was operating one in the middle of the night was something the sheriff never investigated." She paused. ''There are, as you may already realize, powers that fog the mind."

  "What- "

  "Hush. Finally, you came along. Then Greg. Probably, you were the one meant to die- you were the preferred age. Instead, Greg drowned. It was no accident, John, and you couldn't have prevented it."

  "Are you saying you know what happened to him?"

  ''Only in so far that what happened to him was what happ
ened to the other boys. He was a sacrifice. I don't know the details ... but you do."

  "I do?"

  "It's in here," she tapped her forehead. "Waiting for you to find it."

  "Well, do you think you could give me a clue as to who these immortal murderers are?" He couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

  "The sisters of St. Gertrude's."

  "The nuns?" he asked, incredulous.

  "You know it in your heart,"

  "You want me to believe that my brother died because of some century-old feud carried on in the name of nuns and a woman, all of whom must be dust by now?"

  "And they killed your father, for delving into things. He was a good man. He never believed his brother died by accident, and that's what made him become a sheriff. It's the same with you, isn't it?"

  ''I-"

  ''And Gus," she continued. ''What I have told you, he was going to tell you. He never wanted to because he knew the knowledge would put you in jeopardy, as it did your father. He felt it was his fault your father died."

  "He told me that," John said, nodding. "But even assuming this is true, how could nuns do such grisly things? Why?"

  "First, no one suspects them. Second, they are brides not of Christ, but of Lucifer."

  "Satanic nuns?" he asked.

  "They used to call themselves the Order of Lilith. Named for the night demon- the original succubus- mentioned in the bible. They've been around for centuries. They came to America before the Revolution and settled in Massachusetts, not far from the old Moonfall homestead. They didn't wear the garb of nuns then, but they were a sisterhood responsible for much of the witchcraft hysteria.

  ''Minerva had been aware of them, had even been persecuted by them, before she married Jeremiah. She knew what they were, and when the sisterhood left Massachusetts, Minerva convinced Jeremiah to come here and settle. It may have been a foolish decision, but she felt that it was the only one she could make- to follow them and continue to try to diffuse their evil as best she could." She shook her head sadly. ''As many deaths as there have been, there might have been even more if she hadn't come."