"John," Paul said softly. "They're not Catholic. There's no record of them in our files."
"When did you check?"
"A couple days ago. I've been having nightmares. I always do around Halloween, about, you know ... "
''Greg. You can say it, Paul. I have them, too. So does Winky Addams."
''Beano?"
"He's closed himself off from us, but I wouldn't be surprised. Paul, do you ever wonder if we went to St. Gertrude's the night Greg died?"
"Yes," he said without hesitation. "I've prayed over it, I've meditated, I've done everything I can think of, but I can't remember." He paused. "But Beano was sure we didn't go. Remember?"
''Yes. Paul, before he died, Gus told me he overheard the five of us talking, right after Greg drowned. He said that we had gone. And I've been talking to Minerva Payne."
"Who?"
"The old witch in the woods."
''Really? Why?"
''She seems to know more than anyone. She says the sisters used to be called the Order of Lilith."
There was silence on the other end of the line. Finally Paul cleared his throat. "Lilith was a night demon, John. She's mentioned in Isaiah."
''That makes sense, considering what these women are like." He briefly told Paul about Sara's ghostly rape. "What do you make of that?"
''Well, it fits in with the Lilith stuff. Lilith was the original succubus- a spirit that uses men at night. Rapes them." He chuckled lightly. ''Personally, I always thought that was nothing more than an excuse for nocturnal emissions among the celibate."
"Is there a male spirit that rapes women?"
''Yes," Paul said, serious again. ''It's an incubus. But succubi and incubi are the same spirit in different forms."
''Minerva believes it's a revenant," John said, and explained.
''That makes sense, I suppose. Are you sure this really happened?"
''One hundred percent."
''Well, if those nuns are a group of Satanists and they know what they're doing, maybe they've figured out how to do things like that. There are many powers we don't understand."
While John told him everything of the events of the past weeks, Paul listened in silence.
"It's a fantastic story, John."
"The thing is, I'm beginning to remember things. I've been in that chapel at the abbey before, Paul. I recognized it. They had Greg laid out on the altar, and there were a bunch of people in black cowled robes. I watched. You watched, Paul. We all did, and we couldn't do anything to stop it. Do you have any recollection of a man named Dashwood?"
"No, not offhand."
''Do you ever dream about eyes?"
"Yes, I dream I'm being sucked into them."
''Those are Dashwood's eyes. And you were sucked into them. We all were."
"How can you be so sure?"
''I feel it. And Minerva Payne told me. Well, she called him a sorcerer. I'd call him a man with a vast knowledge of hypnosis and hypnotics."
Another long silence. "What can I do to help, John?"
"You've already helped." He forced himself to chuckle. "I understand now what all these people see in confessing to priests." He hesitated. ''Paul, can you come up tomorrow?" "To Moonfall?"
"Yes. If what Minerva tells us is correct, the nuns' big celebration will occur then. I have to save my boy, Paul. And Sara, and a girl who's a student there who's evidently slated for sacrifice, too. I could use some backup, Paul."
"But if this Minerva has the powers you say she does-"
"I know she can do things, but I don't pretend to know or understand how far she can go. But she was the one who pointed out that to be a Satanist, you must first fear the Christian God. Paul, even if Minerva could spin that abbey into outer space, I think it would be a good idea to have you here with your own kind of magic."
"Essentially, you're talking about exorcism. The church probably won't allow it."
"Don't tell them. Come to see an old friend. Me."
The silence lasted so long that John began to think Paul had hung up. Then the priest spoke. "I'll be there sometime after noon tomorrow. Is that okay?"
"It's great, Paul. Thanks."
PART FIVE
Halloween
Eighty-eight
"When do you think they'll go away?" Kelly asked Minerva as they sat by the blazing fireplace. The clock had just struck midnight; it was the first minute of Halloween.
''I don't know, child. By morning, I suspect." Minerva hoped she was right. The trip back to the cottage had been harrowing only for a few moments; then the nightflyers had disappeared. Minerva had hoped the attack was over, but an hour later they'd returned, their power even greater.
She and Kelly had been outside, picking vegetables to go with the chicken frying in the kitchen, when they'd returned, swooping in over the clearing as if there were no spells protecting the property. The women had had to run into the house for cover.
No doubt Lucy and Dashwood had added their sorcery to the nightflyers'. She looked at Kelly. "We're safe here."
"But if they can break into the clearing, can't they get into the house?"
''If they could have, they already would have."
"Why are they doing this?"
Though the girl was terrified. Minerva could see that she was fighting her fear with her questions, and that, she thought, was a very good sign. “They are doing it because I killed one of them, and because they don't want me interfering with the ceremonies tonight."
"And because I'm here."
Minerva nodded slowly. "Yes, because you're here."
"What can we do? We have to help Sara and Mark."
''That is for John Lawson to do, but we can help him. You can do your part by reciting the protection spells I taught you. I am going to try to help John find his memories." She rose.
"You're not leaving?" Kelly jumped to her feet.
"No. I'm just going into the kitchen. I need to be by myself for this. It's quite difficult." She walked across the threshold "I'll be back in a little while."
Eighty-nine
John, let me in.
John, dozing in his chair, turned uneasily. He heard Minerva's voice in his mind, knew the dream was coming and that he could still make himself wake up before it took him.
He'd already remembered some of Halloween, 1972, on his own, but if Minerva was right about his being able to remember how to get into the basement at the abbey, then he couldn't just wait for his memories to kick in. He needed to let the dream come. But he was afraid.
Remember for Mark. Let me in.
Hearing those words, he let himself fall into the dream. He spiraled down into the locked room and saw that blood was already seeping in under the door and drizzling down the keyhole in the black iron latch plate.
You know how, John. Open the door.
He grasped the knob and turned it with all his might.
That's it, don't stop! You can do anything, John. It's your dream.
The knob began to turn, but just barely. Minerva's words echoed in his ears and he applied them with new strength. Abruptly the knob turned and he began pulling it. The door groaned as the hinges began to give; then suddenly, it flew open. A wave of blood followed, filling the room, drowning him as it flowed into his lungs. He choked.
It's a dream, only a dream. Do what you must.
He began to swim for the door but ran into one wall, then another. He couldn't breathe, couldn't see through the red fog. And then he found the doorway and swam out of the room.
Into utter darkness.
The blood was gone and he was sitting on a hard wooden bench. He was paralyzed, and as candles flickered to life around him, he tried to call to Minerva, but his vocal cords wouldn't work. All he could do was sit, unblinking, and stare at the black altar within the candles. He felt others sitting, unmoving, next to him and though he couldn't turn his head, he knew that Paul, Winky, Beano, and Doug surrounded him.
Figures draped in black walked into view,
each carrying a black candle. They filed around the wide altar to stand in a half circle behind it. A tall figure- Dashwood, he knew- walked up to the altar and laid out Greg's small, pale body.
Next, a girl of thirteen or fourteen walked in. Dressed in white, she was supported between two cowled figures. She let herself be guided up onto the altar and placidly laid down next to Greg. Two more black figures dragged a grown woman in. Unlike the girl, she was unconscious. As the others began a low chant, two dark figures stepped forward and helped the other two bring the woman around the altar and hoist her up so that she lay crosswise across Greg and the girl. As they positioned her, her arms, then head, then breasts came into John's view. She was made up in colors so bright that he could see them in the near darkness. Her lips and nipples were red black, and her eyes, open and staring, were rimmed with dark blue. Her cheeks were bruised with blush.
The chanting continued, growing louder, more ominous, until the air turned frigid and thick. Behind him, he heard the doors blow open and a gust of foul wind filled the room. Something was coming, something large and horrible, and he knew what it would do to the young woman.
The same thing will happen to Sara. And Mark will be the living altar, as Greg was. And then, like your brother, your son will die. You must find the basement.
I can't! He was stuck in his own fourteen-year-old body, as paralyzed as he'd been that night. He struggled, hearing the Beast coming down the aisle, smelling it as it filled his nostrils with the pungent odor of death. No matter what he did, he couldn't make his body move, and he needed no reminder of what was to come next. He remembered in full detail, first the rape of the woman by something inhuman, something he could only think of as a devil. It tore the woman apart, and she had been awake the whole time, unmoving, paralyzed, though her eyes, leaking silent tears, conveyed all her pain and horror. He remembered how, as the Beast reached orgasm, blood had spurted from her mouth, coating her unblinking eyes, filling her nose. He had seen the life drain from her, had seen her eyes go blank. As awful as it was, it was a relief when she died.
He remembered the demon tossing her aside and tearing the white dress from the girl, the virgin. She was waking up and begun to scream as it nearly tore one of her legs from its socket in its desire to take her. Greg had awakened, too, and begun to scream with her. The demon paid him no mind and no one stepped forward as the little boy rolled off the altar and tried to crawl away.
He saw me. He was crying for me. The truth hit John in a jolting flash. Greg had crawled to him, had begged him to look at him, to talk to him. He'd felt Greg's tears falling on his deadened hands, and he could do nothing.
It's a dream. Minerva's voice ripped into the vision. You aren't tied to the body. Leave the body there and find the prison in the basement. Find it for Mark! Find it now!
The chanting deafened him as the demon attacked the young woman and he remembered how he'd escaped the dream's bloody room. I can do anything. I can fly.
Suddenly, he found himself in the air, high above the chapel, his ears filled with the cries of nightflyers. One swooped at him and he escaped, jumping down into darkness, spiraling down.
He opened his eyes and saw his living room. Am I awake? The Regulator chimed half past midnight, Halloween. He blinked and then Sara was standing before him, luminously nude in the darkness.
John, I need you.
"Sara?"
She stepped closer. Make love to me, John. I want you.
He stared at her, thinking he had to be dreaming, but it seemed too real. He lifted one hand and pinched the back of the other. It hurt like hell. "I'm awake," he said.
I know. Sara was nearly on top of him now, her lips moist, her eyes sparkling.
"Sara, my God, Sara. How did you get here?'' He stood up and put his arms out to her, closed them.
They closed on icy cold air, nothing more, and then he felt her slide into him, felt his bones begin to chill, his heart to stutter. Blindly he reached under his shirt and pulled out the amulet. "Get away!"
Instantly, the coldness left him and Sara was standing before him, a sad smile on her face. We never got to make love when I was alive. Can't we now?
"You're not Sara. Get out of my house!"
Sara's image shifted and flowed before him, losing color, the body disappearing and the face elongating until it was an amorphous white head nearly as tall as he. The eyes were burning black pits. This is what raped Sara.
Laughter filled his mind, shrill and maniacal, and the mouth yawned open, revealing short, sharklike teeth. The phantom rotated until it was sideways; then suddenly it rushed him and he felt the teeth dig into his chest and back, biting into his flesh like hundreds of short, sharp knives.
Begone, spirit!
In the back of his mind, he heard Minerva's voice, and then he caught a glimpse of her at the edge of his vision, translucent, glowing amber in the darkness.
Begone!
Slowly, the pressure on his body dissipated, the sharp pain stopped, and then he stood alone in the darkened room.
Breathing hard, trembling, he turned on a lamp and looked down at himself. He couldn't comprehend what he saw. His shirt was tom and bloodstained, and he realized he was in pain. He ran down the hall to the bathroom and turned on the light, tore off his shirt, and stared at himself in the full-length mirror.
Blood seeped from a neat half-circle of razorlike cuts running from his left side to three-quarters of the way across his chest. Turning, he saw the same marks on his back. Dumbfounded, he did nothing for a long moment; then he forced himself to move, turning on the shower, stripping, and climbing in. He scrubbed himself for twenty minutes, not caring that the wounds still dripped blood.
Finally, he turned off the water and dried, keeping the towel wrapped around himself until he knew the bleeding had stopped. He let the towel drop and took a tube of Neosporin from the medicine cabinet and used the whole tube on the cuts. Bruises were already purpling around them.
He was practically running on automatic as he entered his bedroom and took a T-shirt from his drawer and slipped it on, wincing at the pain the movement caused He pulled on fresh socks and underwear, then a new pair of dark brown Levi's, and laced his shoes up.
The clock chimed once as he left for the station. The first hour of Halloween was over. He would have a long night alone, and with a little luck, maybe he would remember on his own where the entrance to the basement was. He realized he was praying he would, and was very nearly amused, but he knew that if he let himself laugh, he wouldn't be able to stop.
Ninety
Sara's hands hurt, but she had made progress in her efforts to open the door. The wood had been damp for years and was rotting away, and Sara had used that to her advantage, eventually pulling off a large, firm length, which she had used until there was a six-inch square of faint light entering the ragged hole at the bottom edge of the door.
At that point, she explored the room again. She found shelves above eye level lining one wall, and realized there were long metal ells holding them up. She shoved on the lowest shelf and it creaked and groaned and finally cracked.
Pulling it from the wall, she went to work on the metal shelf support, trying to pry it out of the brick wall. It had taken hours, but now she held it in her hands, one end bare, the other still with a piece of wood stuck to it.
Now, she was at the door, slowly working the metal between the door and the jamb, pushing it upward, toward the latch. It was tedious work and all for nothing if anyone came down to check on her, but she had already cleared several more inches. With luck, she just might make it.
Ninety-one
"Minerva? Are you okay?"
Minerva opened her eyes and saw that she was looking up into Kelly Reed's worried face. She gave her a small smile. ''Help me up, child. This floor is too cold and hard for my old bones."
''Should you move? I mean, maybe you need an ambulance."
"Nonsense. Help me up."
Kelly did as she was to
ld. ''You fainted," she said as she led Minerva to her rocker by the fire. "You were talking. I heard you, so I didn't come in until you stopped; then I found you on the floor."
Outside, a nightflyer screeched. It sounded like laughter. ''First of all, Kelly, that was a trance that got away from me. I was guiding John Lawson's dream; then it was interrupted by the revenant. John was in trouble and I had to expend a lot of energy to help him. I believe he's all right now."
''What did you do?"
''A little astral projecting." She patted the girl's hand, trying to dispel her panic. "I'll teach you how someday."
''Someday?" Kelly asked, her eyes bright. ''Does that mean I can stay with you?"
"That's what it means. You're a gifted student of the occult arts, Kelly, and I'll expect you to apply yourself."
"Oh, I will. I promise." Outside, a nightflyer screeched, but the girl barely noticed. “You're really going to keep me?"
"We'll have to pull a string or two, but that won't be too hard. Now, I need some sleep. Just an hour or so will do. Keep watch and wake me around two. Then you can sleep."
"An hour's not enough- "
"Yes, it's plenty. When you have learned to be a healer, you won't need more than a few hours yourself. And when you're very old, all you'll need is an hour." Minerva stood up and went over to the couch, laid down on it. "Hand me that afghan, child."
Kelly placed the knitted forest green blanket over Minerva, then sat down in the old woman's chair. "Minerva?" she asked quietly.
''Yes?"
"Do you think I'm going to get to live long enough to get old?"
"I'll see to it. Now, let me sleep."
Ninety-two
"What time is it, Lucy?"
"Just past six A.M."
Dashwood felt Lucy's warm but bony body stretching next to his. They'd spent the evening making plans, everything from holding Minerva Payne captive in her own house until they could retake Kelly Reed, to the type of makeup they would use on Sara Hawthorne when they prepared her for the Beast. They'd made love twice, and after that, they had expended the rest of their energy sending the revenant spirit to John Lawson's house.
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