by Ann Simas
Zach’s mother moved over to her husband and handed him the gun. In a surprise move, she snatched the matches from Earl’s hand.
Sunny almost collapsed, thinking the worst was about to happen.
But instead of lighting the wood pile at the bottom of the pole, Mother Regina moved over to within a few feet of Sunny. “You are a shame on womanhood. You tricked Zachariah into loving you, then you tricked him into giving you babies you didn’t deserve. Do you admit this?”
In for a penny…. Sunny looked Zach’s mother straight in the eye, nodded, and lied. “Yes.”
“You forced Zachariah to shun our way of life. Do you admit this?”
“Yes.”
“You put false ideas into Zachariah’s head that caused him to join the military. Do you admit this?”
Sunny forced her head to hang down, as if admitting something shameful. “Yes.”
“You rejoiced when Zachariah died in a foreign land, far from family who loved him. Do you admit this?”
Even though she felt like hurling, she raised her head and remained submissive. “Yes.”
“You have raised Zachariah’s children to hate us. Do you admit this?”
Sunny had never even spoken to her children about Zach’s parents, but she said, “Yes.”
Mother Regina moved closer and in a lightning-fast move, reached out and slapped Sunny’s face. The hit stung, but she managed to keep her spine straight and her expression acquiescent.
“You are a slut and a whore, unfit to raise children. Do you admit this?”
Sunny had to force her jaw to relax to answer. “Yes.”
“You are the lowest form of life on this Earth. Do you admit this?”
“Yes.”
Zach’s mother slapped her again, so hard that Sunny almost lost her balance. Then she deliberately raked her long talons across Sunny’s cheek, drawing blood. “Why do you wish to ruin this heathen’s life as you ruined my son’s life?”
“He completes me,” Sunny said, without thinking it through.
“Completes you? Completes you? Are you insane as well as stupid?”
“Yes.”
“Do not mock me, slut!” Mother Regina screamed, diving at her.
Sunny leaped left and the old hag fell into the dirt, eliciting a collective gasp from the onlookers. She came up in a rage, screaming, “Kill them! Kill them both!”
Maximus was the only one there who moved. “Calm yourself, Mother Regina. We must have the children, regardless of how we feel about the slut.”
Sunny wasn’t sure exactly what drew her eyes up to Luca. He inclined his head toward Boyson. The Fyfes were engaged in more husband-to-wife silent communication and didn’t notice Boyson advancing on them.
Sunny knew he hated her enough to disobey them, regardless of how much they were paying him, but was he stupid enough to…?
Even as the thought formed in her mind, he pulled the knife from its sheath and stabbed first one, and then the other of them. Neither fell to the ground, but both turned on him with agonized expressions of surprise. He speared them again, this time stabbing Rex and Mother Regina twice each. Both crumpled.
With the exception of Sally Box, onlookers screamed and began to scatter. The TV reporter ran straight to Earl, connecting with the blade he extended in her direction. She screamed and fell to the ground.
Boyson turned toward Sunny next, advancing like some kind of giant ogre intent on scaring his prey to death. Only this was no fairytale and he wasn’t anywhere near as nice as an ogre.
Sunny backed away, reaching behind her to pull her gun from the holster at her waistband. She worked the safety off and came to a stop, aiming at his chest.
Her pursuer laughed and kept coming.
The Vale Luna observers managed to keep clear of them, but displayed their obvious discombobulation as they scattered like the rats they were.
“I will shoot you,” Sunny said.
“You’re a spineless twat,” he snarled, and charged.
Sunny fired twice, hitting center mass both times, and still he progressed. She backed further away and fired again. Still he did not go down.
She wondered if he was wearing a Kevlar vest, but even so, the power of the shots at such close range should have leveled him. And then she noticed what should have been immediately obvious—his shirt had become saturated with blood.
At five feet, he made a lunge for her, the knife in his hand high in the air. His intent was clear.
Sunny whirled and tried to run, but the behemoth that was Earl Boyson tackled her and took her to the ground, knocking the breath from her body.
Struggling to breathe, she wondered how far the knife had gone into her side, and how many times more it would take to kill her.
Chapter 40
. . .
Luca screamed Sunny’s name, struggling like a madman against the bonds holding him to the cross structure. His efforts were relentless, but futile.
The Vale Luna cult members continued their rat-like scatter. So much for their devotion to their leaders.
Law enforcement burst into the circle, causing even more mayhem among the cultists. What the hell had taken them so long? Couldn’t they have intervened sooner, knowing Sunny was in danger?
The cross began to move. At first, Luca thought his struggles had dislodged it from the ground, then he realized someone was operating the pulley to lower him. “Hurry!” he hollered. “For God’s sake, hurry!”
He kept his eyes pinned on Sunny, barely visible beneath Boyson’s hulking, bloody body.
“Jesus, doesn’t anyone have a knife?” Trey shouted, once Luca was horizontal.
No one responded.
“Knife!” Trey shouted again, and then again. “I need a fucking knife!”
His words finally penetrated Luca’s brain. “Boyson has one,” he told his partner. “But see to Sunny first.”
. . .
Trey leapt over the dead bodies of Mother Regina and Maximus and ran toward Sunny. Gun drawn, he tugged Boyson off of her with his free hand. The body flopped over, landing on its back. Boyson stared sightlessly into the trees. Trey holstered his gun and grabbed the knife, handing it to Butler, who was right behind him.
He dropped to his knees stared for a moment in horror at all the blood on Sunny’s backside. When he finally turned her over, she rasped for air.
“Inhaler. Pocket.”
He dug into one pocket and came out with a pocket knife. He shoved it back in and went for the other pocket and pulled out her inhaler. He eased her up into a sitting position.
“Shake it.”
He did as instructed.
“One puff.”
He put the inhaler between her lips, waited until she gave him a slight nod, then depressed the canister. She sucked in a shallow breath, then held it.
“Again.”
This time, she seemed to be able to draw a deeper breath.
“Again.”
He was pretty sure she was only supposed to inhale twice, but since the first inhalation had been so shallow, he wasn’t worried about overdosing her. He depressed, she inhaled. Within a couple of minutes, her breathing had eased.
Luca dropped to his knees beside Trey. “Is she alive?”
“She’s okay. Just gave her three doses from her inhaler.”
. . .
Sunny’s eyelids came up slowly. “Luca?”
“I’m here, Sunshine.” Wincing, he edged Trey aside and slid one arm around her back and the other beneath her legs.
“Stop!” she protested. “You’re hurt.”
“So are you.”
“Luca, please. Don’t try and lift me.”
“She’s right, man. You’re beat to shit,” Trey said. “We’ve got EMTs coming in. Just sit and relax, if you can, until they get here.”
Sunny looked up at Trey and tried to smile. “Good advice. Thanks, Trey.” She aimed her head toward the lump that was Boyson. “Is he dead?”
“And then som
e,” Trey said. “Good shootin’, Sunny.”
Sunny didn’t know quite how she felt about ending a man’s life. Even though he’d been intent on ending both hers and Luca’s lives, and had killed Zach’s parents and Sally Box without a qualm, it was difficult to grasp the full import of what she’d done.
“I’m sure you two have things to discuss, so I’ll leave you to it while I check in with Butler and Spencer.” Trey turned away, then spun back. “You’ve got balls, Sunny. Regardless of what you might think of yourself right now, it took a boatload of courage for you to do everything you did today.”
Sunny shifted, sending a wave of pain through her side. The smile she aimed at Trey had to be more a grimace, but he seemed satisfied with her response.
Agonized, she turned toward Luca, meeting his gaze directly. “I didn’t mean any of what I said today.”
“I know you didn’t, Sunshine, except for maybe one thing.”
Sunny bit her lower lip.
His eyes dropped down to watch until she released it, then he leaned forward in obvious in pain, and kissed her.
“You do complete me,” she whispered against his lips.
“You complete me, too.” He kissed her again. “And if you ever do anything stupid like confronting a group of crazed cultists again just to save my sorry ass, I’m going to take you over my knee and paddle you.”
Sunny laughed softly. “I’d like to see you try.”
He managed a grin. “Me, too.”
She might have said more, but the EMTs arrived on-scene. Two of them began to examine Luca, and the other two worked on her.
. . .
Sunny and Luca didn’t see each other again until they got to the ER, and even then, they were separated by a curtain.
“How soon can we get married?” Luca inquired through the cloth.
“How soon are you going to be able to walk and…you know?”
Luca laughed. “Sunshine, there are ways…and then, there are ways.”
Sunny giggled. “I look forward to every new experience with you.”
“This is the doctor speaking. Will the patients talking sexy please refrain. You’re getting the rest of us all riled up.”
“Doctor!” one of the nurses cried.
The ER doc belly-laughed.
“If you’d pull back this damned curtain between us,” Luca said, “we could be whispering these sweet nothings to each other instead of broadcasting them to the world.”
Sunny giggled again and waited to see what would happen next.
The nurse appeared in her cubicle, grinning. She went to the wall and tugged on the curtain, pulling it all the way back. “Happy now?”
Luca, his beautiful face bruised and battered, pretended to consider the space. “Not really. Can you move the beds closer together?”
The nurse folded her arms across her middle and shook her head, trying not to smile. “Cops are some of the most recalcitrant patients we get. Why did I expect you to be any different?”
“Pretty please?” Luca said, giving the nurse an innocent look.
“Don’t press your luck, Luca Amorosi. You may not remember, but I changed your diapers when you were still practically a tadpole.”
Luca laughed, then had to clutch his side. “I don’t know how my mother’s put up with being friends with you all these years, Theresa,” he said.
Theresa harumphed. “She had to have someone to commiserate with when her bambini were driving her nuts, didn’t she?”
“I never did any such thing,” Luca protested.
“Don’t tempt me to start listing your infractions.”
Luca glanced at Sunny. “I promise you I have been very good my entire life.”
“Obviously, I can’t speak to the years before I met you,” Sunny said, and added in a voice laden with suggestion, “but you’re pretty damned good now.”
“Someone call the fire department,” one of the other patients called out. “Things are getting hot in here!”
Up and down the row of curtained cubicles, several people laughed.
Luca lowered his voice. “I can hardly wait to spend the rest of my life with you, Sunshine.”
“Tomorrow,” Sunny said. “Let’s get married tomorrow.”
Author Note
The idea for this book evolved from a personal experience I had with a young woman who’d caught her bike tire in the space where the road meets the gutter and fallen. I stopped to help, but she said she was okay. I took her at her word, and since I had my three-year-old with me, I got back in my car and headed on my way.
Hours later, I was still haunted by the warning from a sales person at the car dealership who had approached and told me I’d better not leave. When I got home, I discussed it with my husband and decided to phone the police, just in case. I discovered that the man had implicated me, but the bicyclist, who had not been seriously injured, assured the police that I had only stopped to help.
Of course, my writer’s brain catalogued that for future reference, and years later, Black Moon Rising evolved from the encounter.
I hope you enjoyed Sunny’s story and the roller-coaster ride she undertook to save her children from being “sacrificial lambs.”
Thanks to: David Harper (once an astronomer, now a genome researcher) for answering my questions about blue moons; my husband, who is always my first reader; and Nancy Jankow, my diligent editor. Also, God bless the Internet for a plethora of information about blue moons, medications, and cults!
Be sure to check out the blue moon in January 2018, and let me know if anything strange happens in your part of the world when the black moon rises in February.
Thank you so much for reading
BLACK MOON RISING!
I’d love to hear what you think about it.
You can email me at [email protected], or post a comment on my Ann Simas, Author page on Facebook. I hope you’ll “like” me while you’re there, and if you are so inclined, please leave a review on Amazon.com or Goodreads.com.
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Available now, Heaven Sent,
a near-death-experience thriller.
Page forward for a preview.
HEAVEN SENT
Things weren’t going well for Sophie Doyle. Over the previous two weeks, her car had been stolen, her washer and dryer tanked simultaneously, and she’d been given notice that the lease on her apartment would not be renewed when it expired the following month. Renters out, condo owners in. Sucks.
Little things had been going wrong, too. Like the power outage overnight because of the wind storm, which meant her alarm didn’t go off at 6:30, so she overslept. Since the insurance company was still arguing with her about her stolen car, she had to resort to taking the bus to work. In her neighborhood, it trundled by on the hour and the half-hour. Oversleeping caused her to miss the 7:30. That made her late to work at Adz, so she missed a short but important conference call with a client. She would have called in, but the battery was dead on her iPhone and the power was out, and shit, she couldn’t even toast some bread for breakfast let alone plug in her charger! Her client was sure to be pissed and what if he fired the agency? Her boss would be beyond pissed.
If there’d been any little old ladies to knock over on the way off the bus, Sophie probably would have done it. 8:25. She’d never been late for work. Ever. Regardless of that sterling record, Syd, the supervising partner, and Jon, the managing partner, both had a way of ripping the hide off anyone who screwed up. Sophie was already anticipating some pain.
She raced across the plaza fronting the building that housed Adz and pushed through the revolving door with so much steam, she nearly didn’t allow herself enough time to squeeze out as it kept moving. She called out a greeting to Robbie O’Connor, the security guard, and high-tailed it to the elevator. It opened just as she was a
bout to push the UP button. “Thank you!” she murmured with a brief glance upward.
Sophie didn’t remember the twelve-floor elevator ride being so sluggish. Perhaps on another day, it wouldn’t have been, but at this particular moment in time, somewhere between the sixth and seventh floors, the lift stuttered to a halt. The lights flickered, leaving her in total darkness for several moments until the emergency lighting blinked on.
“You have got to be kidding me!” Alone in the elevator, Sophie’s scream of frustration didn’t bother or deafen anyone. She punched the alarm button, but nothing happened, which may have been a godsend, she decided belatedly. A nonstop squeal might well have driven her completely bonkers. With her smartphone still useless, she opened the call box and lifted the red phone from its hook. Red. Like it was the hotline to the freaking Kremlin or something.
Robbie answered immediately.
“I’m stuck in elevator two,” Sophie explained, “between floors six and seven.”
“Strange,” Robbie said. “Nothing is showing up on the panel. Did you hit the alarm?”
“I did, but it’s not working.”
“Okay, I’ll get a call in to the elevator company right away. You okay in there?”
“So far, so good. The emergency lighting came on at least. Robbie, could you also call my office and let them know I’m stuck in here? I don’t have any juice in my phone.”
“Sure thing. Hang tight, kid. Help is on the way.”
Sophie wished his words felt more reassuring, but the way things had been going….
The thought fled when the elevator lurched. She would have preferred that it lurch upward, but instead it dropped, throwing her off balance. She grabbed for the handrail, missed, and landed on her keister.
The only thing that kept her calm during the rapid descent was a recent, and somehow prophetic memo from Building Services, addressing elevator problems: If the elevator stops between floors, don’t worry, you will still be safe. The elevators in this building have both electrical and mechanical brakes, both of which function during unexpected situations, including power failure. The memo had gone on to say that in an emergency—which she deemed this to be, trapped as she was in an elevator she couldn’t control—the elevator would descend automatically to the ground floor.