Dark Shadows: Wolf Moon Rising

by Lara Parker

  He walked around the casket but didn’t hear anything, so he played the light in the corners. Lots of dead flowers all dried up and candelabras with the burnt-down candles overflowing with melted wax. Then he heard a shuffling sound. The sound was coming from inside the casket.

  His skin crawled all over and he wanted to run. Something told him this was too creepy. But his dad would say, “Well, what was it? Did you get it?” The coffin shook a little and he almost hollered out. Shit, all it was was a coffin, some leftover prop, and some animal trapped inside. He circled the coffin again. Sure enough, he found the hole with his light, a battered out place on the end where the wood was splintered, big enough for something to crawl in and not be able to get out. He’d seen rats get trapped that way. They could fold up their bodies and slide into something so narrow, but then they couldn’t get their hips back through.

  The casket shuddered again. Leaning over, he shined the light in the hole and moved it around. He was really shaking now, more from adrenaline than fright, and the light was bouncing in there, but he saw a pair of eyes staring into the beam. There was a fuzzy moan, more like a growl, and the casket shook again.

  Had to make the hole bigger. He’d seen that ax. And the net. He started picturing a little gray fox, something that snarled, with a beautiful fluffy tail. He could catch it and save its life. Only could he handle the ax? He was such a baby.

  He swung it, one, two, three times, each time missing the hole. Then he took a step back and aimed more carefully. Thwack! The hole was bigger. He tried to position the net so that whatever came out would jump in it. He swung the ax again and he was pleased to see that a big piece of wood got pushed inside. He was breathing hard when he leaned over and looked in the hole, getting his chin down next to the light.

  “Come on little fellow. Don’t be afraid.”

  There was a slapping sound and something flew out with a whooosh. Whatever it was, it was big and black and it flapped into his face, clinging there, covering the goggles, then flew up to the ceiling. Shit! It was a bat! A huge bat! He’d never thought … how many were there? He looked into the hole again, trying not to get so close this time, and he could smell something dead, even through the visor, the reek of rotting flesh. The bat was flopping around against the ceiling and then the noise stopped. Must have found something to hang on to.

  He stood up and turned around, looking. But the bat was gone. Everything was quiet. Where’d it go? Then he saw something and he gasped. Jesus! A goddamn lady was standing in front of the door. She had flaming red hair and a long blood-colored dress. Where the fuck did she come from? Just appeared out of nowhere. She was panting and she looked really mad, her face all screwed up, her hands clenching.

  “Who are you?” he stammered. That sounded rude. He should tell her why he was there. “I mean, I’m just trying to—”

  She made a growling sound and that really scared him, so he stepped back. He wanted to run, but first he had to get by her.

  “I’m all done here, I gotta go—”

  She growled again, and then like the wind she came for him. She got hold of him with her nails digging in, and the scream that came from his throat felt like a wild animal clawing out of his chest. Her eyes were on fire and her mouth was gleaming with a lot of sharp teeth, a couple of which were long and pointed …

  * * *

  Quentin found Nathanial Blair in the library poring over family records as if he owned the place. Trying not to become irritated, Quentin approached and said, “I’d like to hold another séance as soon as possible.”

  “I don’t know whether that’s a good idea,” answered Blair. “This one was quite disappointing.”

  “Maybe not,” said Quentin. “I just saw the green automobile again, driving down the sea road. It’s definitely from the twenties.”

  Blair’s eyes lit up. “It seemed we did accomplish something,” he said, “just not what we planned.”

  “So, you will try again?”

  “I think not. I intend to pursue my search for the vampire. That’s my number-one purpose while I am here.”

  Quentin grew thoughtful, then he said in a low voice, “I might be able to help you if you help me. If I can retrieve what I am after from the twenties, I am willing to share with you what I know about the vampire, and the truth is I know quite a lot—”

  Then they heard it: shrieks coming from just below them.

  “What’s that?” said Blair, his expression almost gleeful.

  “I think it must be the exterminator,” said Quentin.

  “He must have found something big!” Blair exuded a mist of anticipation as the two men headed for the stairs. “Stay back against the wall,” he said to Quentin, and put his arm out as if to shield the man. “I’ve heard that cry before, and it’s not good.” Then they crept uneasily down the steps, Quentin trailing.

  But when they reached the basement, the shrieks had stopped, and the dark cellar was eerily quiet.

  “Hello? Anybody there?” Blair called out. He turned to Quentin. “Did you say it was an exterminator?”

  “I saw him come down here only a few minutes ago. He was dressed in his protective garb, with a gas mask.”

  Blair seemed drawn to the door beneath the stair as though he possessed the ability to sniff out disaster. He stopped and picked up the metal rod attached to the sprayer. “Looks like he lost this,” he said, and then he ducked down and looked in the room. “Here he is,” he called back. “He’s in here.”

  Then with a harsh cry he leapt back and threw his arm over his head. A huge bat flew out of the opening and across the basement. It fluttered a while, crashing into the walls and flying haphazardly in the dark before it found an opening—a small window open just a crack—and disappeared.

  The smell in the room was of the dead and the dying, rotted flesh and fresh blood. Quentin saw the mask sitting on the stone floor, still intact, its bizarre red eyes and protruding black mouth gaping like it was about to speak. “He was wearing that,” he said, but then he uttered a groan when he saw the boy’s body lying beside the casket. “Oh … God!”

  The body was still encased in the white overalls, but Blair reached down, shook it, then looked up at Quentin with a face blanched white. “It seems impossible.”

  “Is he … is he—?”

  “Yes, he’s dead and … and I think … I think his head is missing.”

  Quentin felt faint and his vision blurred. He reached out and placed a hand on the coffin, and only then did he realize what it was. He jerked away. “Who? What is this room?”

  Blair shook his head, but he appeared less confused than fascinated, even energized. “Take a look at that,” he said, motioning to the gas mask.

  Quentin leaned over and picked up the hood, holding it by the goggles. It was heavier than he had expected, and something fell out of it and hit the floor with a dull thud. It was a mass of black hair, but when he turned it over, it had a face … a face with a mouth curled back in a scream and eyes frozen in terror.

  “Who would do this? Who could do it?”

  “Who indeed? It’s a vampire,” said Blair, with a tremor of excitement in his voice.

  “A vampire? But … how do you know?” asked Quentin, now thinking of Barnabas.

  “First of all, the casket. It’s where he slept. He had been chained in until this unfortunate boy released him.”

  “Oh, good God. That’s pure conjecture. How can you be sure?”

  “Well, with the head torn off, the blood should be pouring out of his body, but as you can see, there is very little. I think it was consumed before we got here.”

  “A vampire,” repeated Quentin, still feigning ignorance.

  “Yes, and damn it all, we seem to have just missed him.”

  Thirteen

  The house was lit up like a great chandelier, all the panes aglow; even the tall arched windows of the closed-off ballroom were brilliant with sparkling light. At first David thought the family might have stayed
awake wondering where he was, but this was more, much more.

  As they drew nearer he could see that there was something different about the mansion; the stones were smoother, gleaming like marble, the parapet and its attenuating spires were undamaged, and even the gargoyles seemed less eroded. In fact they glared down like sleek and irritable buzzards searching for prey, their beaks sharp and menacing. The thick overlapping ivy that covered the facade was not there, and only a few small bushes were clinging to the foundation, leaving the walls and windows fresh and uncluttered. Strangest of all, there was no snow, only a rolling green lawn that flowed to the cliffs above the sea. It was a warm summer night fragrant with the perfume of dozens of rose bushes that lined the walks.

  “What happened to the house?” he said in astonishment, looking over at Jackie, but she was speechless and merely gazed at the spectacle with her mouth agape.

  Lights were strung across the grass and hung in the trees where tables were arranged around a canvas dance floor. Music wafted out of the doors flung open to the warm night air, and there seemed to be people everywhere, strolling in groups of three or five, the men in slim suits and the girls in gauzy dresses of every color of the rainbow.

  David drove to the entrance and stopped the car beneath the stone portico.

  “What the hell is this?” he said to Jackie. “Where are we?” But she had already opened the car door and, drawn by the festivities, was walking across the gravel toward the ballroom. David hurried to follow her, afraid of losing her in the crush of people who were talking in loud voices over the music and sometimes breaking into peals of hysterical laughter.

  “Jackie, wait. We should go back.” He looked behind him at the car parked under the portico and it seemed to radiate glamour and luxury, its long green chassis gleaming under the many lights. But it was not the only one. Automobiles lined the driveway in rows, some even flashier and more elaborate than the Duesenberg, ivory, and yellow, or glossy black, all tall rectangular chariots, each one more beautiful than the last.

  When he turned again, Jackie had threaded the crowd and was headed around the back of the house. His mind a jumble, he crossed the lawn strewn with tables and waiters moving among the guests with trays of hors d’oeuvres and glasses of pale gold liquid that he guessed was champagne. He saw Jackie reach over and take a crystal goblet as the waiter bowed to her. Jostling people aside, he caught up with her, terrified now, and completely disoriented. “Jackie, wait. Stop. We have to get out of here!”

  She turned to him and her face was glowing, her eyes lively in a way he had never seen. “Why? It’s lovely. I’ve never seen anything so lovely.”

  “But … it’s wrong … I think we went the wrong way. We need to go back to the car.”

  “Oh, David, don’t worry. It’s exciting! Something brought us here. We might as well enjoy it. Come on, let’s explore. Look! Look at the greenhouse! It’s completely different!” She grabbed his hand and raced across the wide lawn scattered with linen-clothed tables and chairs, of couples drinking and eating pâté and jellied salad, and led him to the giant steel structure where every glistening pane of glass was intact. Lit from within with strings of lights, it loomed against the sky, its steel arches nearly invisible within the glittering casing.

  “It’s magical,” she cried, opening the front portal. “It’s like a jungle!”

  The interior was lush and overflowing with enormous leaves and dark green trees blooming with pink and purple flowers exuding a tropical fragrance. There were oddly shaped cacti, and rows and rows of orchids.

  “There must be jaguars hiding in the foliage,” she said, laughing when she saw parrots in the high branches. She looked like a daguerreotype from another time standing among the flowers in her flapper dress. The air was thick with perfume and moisture, and when David looked at her, he was torn between a desperate fear for their safety and a strong urge to lose himself as well in the excitement of the moment. She seemed to sense his anxiety, because she took both his hands.

  “Don’t you see?” she whispered. “The spirits who were trying to contact us.”

  David felt a shiver. “What do you mean?”

  “They’re here!”

  “Jackie, I— I don’t want to connect with any spirits.”

  But she cried, “The pool!” and he stumbled after her. He barely recognized the brick building. The columns were a vivid white and the facade was painted green and silver. Inside, a dozen or so guests in one-piece bathing suits were diving off the sides or splashing in the blue-black water. Screams of delight he thought he remembered from his terrifying trespass only a few days earlier echoed off the walls, and he was astonished to see a girl creep up behind a boy who was preparing to dive and shove him into the water. He remembered the hands on his back, and he was nearly suffocated by the thick aromatic air, as the mist rose off the water and the wet arms and legs of the swimmers glowed in the lights.

  Then without warning, a few of the swimmers stepped out of their suits and with giggles and sharp cries jumped naked into the pool, laughing and splashing one another with joyful abandon. “Can you believe it?” Jackie cried, not out of incredulity but out of enchantment. “It’s another world! Another time!”

  David had long ago realized that Jackie could merge with whatever world she inhabited and the more mysterious or bizarre it was, the more seductive it seemed to her. She was prone to black moods, but she could also be swept away on a manic high of hysteria that left her without any control. And this was uncanny and disturbing. Was it a dream? A vision? He walked to the edge of the pool and was crouching to feel the water when he felt two hands on his back pressing firmly, and he jumped up and whirled around. Jackie was giggling. “Scared you, didn’t I?”

  Exasperated, David pulled her out the door of the pool house. “Jackie, whatever it is, stay with me, I don’t want to lose you.”

  But even though he tried to keep hold of her hand, she broke away and ran back toward the garden, only to stop beside a waiter’s tray to grab another oversized glass of champagne. David, feeling now like a faithful puppy, caught her again at the back veranda standing in the bustle of whispering, murmuring, and hysterically laughing people. His head was spinning with bewilderment.

  “Jackie, we have to get out of here. I’m afraid.”

  She sipped her champagne, then looked up at him with her bewitching eyes. “But I don’t want to go. I want to stay here and enjoy the party. You go,” she said, “and leave me here.”

  He was stunned by her remark and watched her turn and walk toward the dance floor where orchestra members in white tie and tails were playing on a raised stage—strings, oboes, clarinets, and drums. They exploded into a jazzy tune and several people began to dance—wild vigorous steps that defied gravity. Baby face! You’ve got the cutest little baby face!

  A golden-haired girl was in their midst, her slippered feet flashing, her graceful body twisting in what he remembered was the Charleston. She wore a dress that appeared to be made entirely of diamonds, a beaded fringe that shimmered when she moved. The dress hung on her naked body and was caught in the back by a single strap that left her delicate backbone exposed to below her waist. Her neat bobbed hair accentuated her long neck and smooth skin, and, with her arms floating out from her shoulders and a delighted grin on her face, she shimmied parts of her body, her hips, her chest, making the fringe leap in frenzied agitation.

  A boy in pressed white pants with his hair slicked back jumped on the dance floor, grabbed her around the waist, and picked her up and twirled her. She squealed in surprise, but as soon as he set her down, she leapt back into the frenzy. Close by her side, Jackie was not as skilled, but she watched the girl’s movements and soon was duplicating her jerky, contorted choreography, her eyes glazed with happiness. As David watched he felt his throat tighten. He had no idea what to do.

  He found himself drawn into a crowd of men wearing starched and pleated white shirtfronts and bow ties that perched at their throats like the
wings of birds. He caught a few snatches of their conversation as he wandered among them, but they made no sense.

  “That’s nothing! A worker climbed out on the top of Eleven Wall to make some repairs and everyone thought he was going to jump.”

  “What? They thought he was a suicide?”

  “A crowd gathered because they expected a riot. They called the cops in case the bankers and the brokers decided to duke it out.”

  The men all laughed and took swigs of champagne, then looked about the party as though it had been staged just for them. One of the men lifted his glass in a toast. “And here we are, still makin’ whoopee and getting away with it, by God.”

  “Not everyone,” said one of the drinkers soberly. “The other day I saw a man on the street with his hat in his hands, begging for a handout. I realized I knew him.”

  “Too bad, but even Capone said the stock market is nothing but a racket. And as the song says, ‘There’s nothing surer. The rich get richer and the poor get poorer—’”

  “Attaboy! Ain’t we got fun?”

  Then the group wandered off toward the back of the house, still talking among themselves, their conversation unfathomable to David, just as the orchestra broke into the song as though on cue. In the mornin’, in the evenin’, ain’t we got fun!

  David moved through the crowd. The women were jeweled and feathered and flaunted tiny fur wraps even though the night was balmy. There was a fragrance of apple blossoms and newly cut grass, and the cicadas and tree frogs hissed as though keeping time with the band. The music tumbled through the night air with horns and a jazzy piano, songs he remembered from the Twenties: Birds do it, bees do it, even educated fleas do it …

  Catching her finally at the edge of the dance floor, David cried out, “Jackie, please, come with me back to the car.” He looked around at the turbulent party, couples bopping up and down to the jazz orchestra in the ballroom, raucous laughter pouring across the lawn. “Let’s just drive away and see what happens. It brought us here. It ought to take us home.”