Under a Ghostly Moon (Jerry Moon Supernatural Thrillers Book 1)

by William Moore

  "So that's why they dress up? To escape from reality?" This was what he needed for his article, an objective, but informed, opinion.

  "That and to create a sense of identity. A lot of them have had a hard ride from mainstream society somewhere down the line - bullying at school, boring day jobs, oppressive parents... It's a way to break away from the world you despise safe in the company of people who feel the same way. The gear is both a sort of uniform and a way of giving the rest of the world the finger. All subcultures work that way, from the skinheads to the fundamentalists."

  "But why choose Gothic?" Moon asked the most obvious question. "Why dress up as vampires or corpses? Why toy with fantasies about being damned? What's the point?"

  Kate laughed then drew hard on her cigarette. Blowing smoke out of her nostrils, she replied, "Ask me an easy one, why don't you? The answer to that must lie as far back as the first ghost story told around the first cooking fire and then down through the ages from countless folk-tales to Stoker and Shelly and the early Gothic writers. It's all about power and fear, I would say. Death is powerful and frightening, so if you toy with death then you take on some of its power. The dark is the primal fear so if you embrace the darkness you become fearsome. And vampires? Well, they're just cool, aren't they? Modern folklore has transformed them from the bloated living corpses that terrified mediaeval peasants into chic, guiltless, beautiful predators who slide through the ocean of humanity like tiger sharks. Of course some people are going to want to look like them."

  "But they're just fantasy," observed Moon.

  A dark thought passed behind Kate's eyes. "Perhaps…" she replied.

  Something in Kate's reaction reminded him of the missing Goths. "I hear that a few of your clients have disappeared recently. Have you any idea where they may have gone?"

  Kate gave him a searching look and then shook her head. "Not really, some of our guests are pretty transient you know, especially the eighteen to twenties crowd. They get better jobs; go off to college, that sort of thing. It's just the fucked up ones who hang around forever, eh Tez?" This last was addressed to a character sitting at a nearby table, whose straggly beard and long, slightly greying hair made it hard to determine his age, which could have been anywhere from thirty-five to fifty. He wore a black leather waistcoat covered in badges over a worn looking denim shirt, above dirty patched and faded jeans and down-at-heel cowboy boots. He seemed to have been listening in on their conversation and was obviously not at all bothered by being caught out.

  "Takes one to know one, Kate," he grinned roguishly, showing off several missing teeth.

  "I work here, you old bugger, what's your excuse?"

  "I've been enslaved by your stunning beauty and maidenly charms," Terry replied, winking at Moon.

  "Well, I never knew," Kate fluttered her mascara-thick eyelashes. "Not that I think you're man enough, but thanks for the thought. Moon, this is Mad Terry, he's been causing trouble here longer than I've been manager, so he may be able to help you with your article. I'm afraid I'm long overdue back at the bar."

  "'Mad' Terry?" queried Moon, examining his new acquaintance dubiously.

  Terry took the chair recently vacated by Kate. "Yes, well..." he replied, "I was a lot younger when I earned that particular monicker. I tend to drink less and piss more nowadays, if you get my meaning. The real name's Terry Doyle. Glad to make your acquaintance."

  Moon shook the proffered hand, trying not to wince as Terry's work-calloused digits ground his knuckles together. "You seemed to be interested in what Kate and I were discussing, Terry. The missing Goth kids - have you any idea what may have happened to them?"

  Terry gave Moon a sidelong glance along his thin, aquiline nose. "Nothing that wouldn't have you thinking that I deserve my old nickname, but then, you seem to be an open-minded feller, so perhaps you won't think me so mad after all."

  Moon nodded in encouragement and Terry, with a deep frown of concentration, started his tale. "I was drinking in here one evening and they had a few of the Goth types in - chatting around the bar mostly - including a couple of gorgeous young things who caught old Tez’s eye. They were both hanging onto a lad that looked... well, like a modern day Viking god to put it poetically. Tall, blue-eyed, blond hair down to his arse, you know what I mean?"

  "I think I've seen them," answered Moon thoughtfully. "There were three stunning looking Goths that I noticed at the band-fest on Friday that match your description."

  "Yeah, well they hang around here a fair bit. Seem to be well in with the rest of the crowd. Anyway, I had to take a piss so I went through to the gents. There's a little narrow window that looks out into the car park, which was partly open, so as I was shaking myself off I glanced out the window and who should I see but Viking Goth boy and his two lovelies looking like they were about to head off home. So I think: 'I wonder what sort of wheels he has'."

  "As you do..." encouraged Moon.

  "But he hasn't got any wheels." Terry looked sideways at Moon as if to gauge his reaction.

  "He hasn't?"

  "No. And this is the part that'll make you think I deserve to be called Mad Terry." Terry leant conspiratorially close to Moon across the table.

  "Really?" Moon was enjoying Terry's sense of theatre.

  "Yeah. You see Viking boy and his girls look around as if they're afraid someone will see them then he puts an arm around each of their waists and they fly off into the night."

  Moon choked on his beer. "They flew?" he sputtered.

  Terry nodded as he wiped bits of foam from his face. "Yeah, well he flew. It seemed like he was the one providing the lift, straight up into the sky like a frigging super-hero. And I hadn't even had any blow that night, let alone anything stronger, so I wasn't hallucinating or nothing."

  "And do you hallucinate?" Moon wondered if Kate had been playing a prank on him by hooking up with this weirdo.

  "Well, yeah sometimes. I like a bit of blow and I drop the occasional tab of acid or 'E' but not a lot nowadays and this wasn't one of my normal hallucinations. It was far too sensible."

  Moon pondered this information for a second. Terry was obviously not the most reliable eyewitness ever to have walked the earth but Moon had himself noticed something odd about the 'Viking' and his girlfriends and he was used to trusting his gift where the supernatural was involved. He heard the bell over the door ring and looked over Terry's head towards the main entrance. Sonia and Avril had just walked in. "Look, thanks Terry, I owe you a pint, but I really need to talk with one of those girls who've just come in. Do you mind if we continue our conversation some other time?"

  "No problem, Moon, old mate," said Terry draining his glass. "Mine's a Guinness." With a growing sense of trepidation Moon picked up their empty glasses and headed for the bar.

  Sonia stood at the bar looking like a pretty consumptive in her white make-up. She was wearing a black trench coat, a furry black sweater decorated with silver beads, a black leather mini skirt, black tights and a pair of black laced boots with chrome decoration and two-inch thick soles. Over her shoulder she carried a black moulded-latex rucksack, which looked like an alien parasite. Avril was slightly more conservatively dressed in a black sweatshirt bearing a picture of a rose in a pool of blood with its petals twisted into the face of a skull and the logo for Stoker's Kiss in gothic script underneath it. Over this she wore a black beaded jacket with a fluffy fake-fur collar. Her legs were encased in very ordinary jeans over black, chrome-tipped cowgirl boots. Sonia regarded Moon with a grim expression. "Avril reckons I ought to give you another chance," she sighed. "I suppose you can't really be blamed for an honest mistake but you're going to have to prove you're worth the trouble you've caused."

  Moon grinned. "Well, we could always take up where we left off…" he replied. Avril spun round and glared at him in exasperation.

  "Why do men always think of that before anything else?" hissed Sonia. "It'll be a long, long time if ever before we get back to that, Mister. I'll have you kno
w I spent most of last night with a bag of frozen peas clasped between my thighs to keep the swelling down… for what good it did me. I'm sad to say I now put your 'little soldier' to shame in that department, if last night's viewing was anything to go by." She gestured archly to the relevant part of Moon's anatomy.

  The pointed remark failed to hit home. One advantage of being a male nurse was that you saw enough of other men's anatomies to know where you stood in the penis stakes. Moon knew he was about average as these things go and wasn't going to let a little bitchiness upset him. Visibly disappointed by his lack of reaction, Sonia continued, "What I meant is that you need to show that you're serious about making a go of it even if we do have to wait a while to consummate things. What do you say?"

  It took a second or two for Moon to gather his thoughts. For an instant the mixed feelings stirred up by the anger behind Sonia's earlier remark made him feel like serving up a similarly bitchy reply - but there was a certain vulnerability in her eyes that caught him off guard and reawakened the more gentle feelings that had been kindled the night before. He simply said: "I'd like to try," and took her right hand in both of his.

  She smiled and kissed his cheek and said: "Then I'll have a vanilla Green Fairy and so will Avril."

  Chapter 6

  Once Moon and the girls had claimed an empty side table for themselves, he quickly delivered the pint of Guinness to Terry, who was already in deep banter with another ageing biker of similar appearance. The pair nodded to him without pausing in their conversation except for a foam-muffled "Thanks" from Terry.

  Moon returned to find both girls contemplating him with curiosity. "I didn't know you were pals with Mad Tez." Sonia made this sound like the least cool thing on earth.

  "I'm not. Kate suggested he might be able to help me with my article, that’s all."

  "Why?" asked Avril. "He's not a Goth."

  "No, but he's been a local at the Rest for years and Kate thought he might be able to explain how it became a Goth venue. He also has some interesting tales to tell..."

  "Like the one about Uri and his two girlfriends being vampires?" Avril laughed. "That guy is such a druggy!"

  "Are you talking about that very blond Goth who was here last night with the two girls?" Moon was surprised. "Terry seemed to think they had something to do with the missing people but he didn't say anything about them being vampires. Do you two know this Uri then?"

  "Yeah, he sometimes plays violin for Unquiet Grave. I think he writes some of their lyrics too. He lives with Charli and Roanne, the two girls he's usually with, somewhere up near the Downs. They're a sort of open ménage a trois, not my cup of tea but very nice people all the same. They're a bit too heavily into the Goth game. You know, the type who sleep in coffins and only come out at night, but then there are plenty of wannabee vamps on the scene, look at Sonia with her teeth."

  "Oh, but that's just a bit of fun," Sonia was quick to explain. "At least they're not permanent like some people go in for - you can buy them on the Internet you know. I don't know about Uri though, Avril, there's something not quite right about him and his women. They give me this odd, creepy feeling sometimes."

  "Is that why you kept looking over at them when you were telling me about the missing people last night?" asked Moon.

  "I suppose so. Was it that obvious? Look, I thought you were writing an article about Goths, not missing persons."

  "I am, but I have a thing for loose ends and several people disappearing over a fairly short length of time is the type of loose end that my natural curiosity makes me want to unravel."

  "Aren't you frightened what you'll find?" Sonia's eyes widened dramatically.

  "Well, yeah, but if something bad's happening it needs to be stopped."

  "So you'll be going after Uri with a stake and a crucifix then?" asked Avril. "Seems a bit over dramatic."

  "I didn't say that. It's just that two people in this pub seem to think he's involved."

  "I don't think Sonia's spooky feelings and Mad Terry's hallucinations amount to proof of anything." Avril raised her eyebrows sceptically as she sipped her Green Fairy.

  "Yeah, but you can add some spooky feelings of my own to Sonia's - and I tend to trust my spooky feelings."

  "You get spooky feelings too?" asked Sonia. "That's great!"

  "Not just feelings sometimes." Moon smiled at her. "Sometimes I see things too. You know - spirits, auras, that kind of thing."

  "Oh, come on!" Avril's reaction was full of scorn. "You're as bad as Mad Terry, the two of you, seeing things and feeling things. I think I'll leave you both to your delusions." Grabbing her drink she flounced off to where a handful of Goths were chatting in a corner.

  Moon was surprised by Avril's reaction. "Is she really that bothered by psychic phenomena?"

  Sonia came round to the seat next to him and snuggled under his arm. "A bit," she replied. "Avril is bothered by stuff that she can't control so the idea of all sorts of invisible shit happening around her freaks her out - but I think mostly she wanted to give us some time on our own. Plus, of course, Roger's here."

  "Roger?" asked Moon.

  Sonia nodded to where Avril was cuddling up to a tall, longhaired Goth with a goatee and mild acne. Moon recognised him from on the stage the night before. "Her boyfriend," explained Sonia.

  "I would have thought being a Goth would mean you were automatically open to the possibilities of the supernatural," observed a bemused Moon.

  "That's one stereotype that you can challenge in your article, isn't it?" Sonia kissed him on the cheek. "Just because someone likes the look and the people and may have a soft spot for the dark mythos, it doesn't mean they actually believe all that stuff."

  "How about you?" asked Moon. "Do you believe in the supernatural?"

  "Well, I've had my spooky feelings all my life and there are one or two experiences I can't explain - except in terms of the supernatural - so, yes I suppose I do believe. Although, I don't think I could really say exactly what I believe in."

  "I don't know that I really have any choice not to believe," said Moon, steeling himself for ridicule or rejection. "You see, shortly after I started my first job as a nurse I had a patient die under my care for the first time. I was working in the High Dependency Unit and this old chap came in with a complicated heart problem. He was fairly conscious on admission but quickly deteriorated and because of his health problems he'd asked that we wouldn't try to bring him back if his heart stopped. When it was obvious that he wasn't going to make it we moved him into a side cubicle and he passed on shortly afterwards - but that's just it, he didn't..."

  "Didn't what?" Sonia's eyes were wide with interest.

  "Didn't 'pass on'; he just died and hung around. After his relatives had gone home, I went back into the cubicle with another nurse to lay him out and there he was, standing by his own corpse looking really confused. He recognised me from when I admitted him and flew over to me demanding to know what was happening and what was I going to do about it. He didn't realise he had died, you see, because he was comatose when it happened. This was the first time anything like that had happened to me and all I could do was whisper under my breath: 'It's okay you're just dead. Go towards the light'. The poor girl who was laying him out with me must have thought I was bonkers but it seemed to work."

  Sonia laughed. "I didn't know you could die and not realise you're dead."

  "It happens quite a lot. I'd say about forty to fifty per cent of hauntings involve disorientated dead folk blundering around in confusion because for some reason they've died and not noticed it. What's worse is that most of them don't want to listen when you explain it to them. Believe me, I've tried."

  "So you talk to dead people a lot, do you?" asked Sonia without any apparent sarcasm.

  "Most of the time I try to avoid it, unless it's someone who's died under my care, then I think I still have a duty as a nurse to help them, but dead people often have a warped view of reality, they tend to be ‘stuck’ in their o
wn time. It's hard to reason with them, especially if they've been around for a few years. And often you have to find the right ‘key’ for them to move on to the next world."

  "’Key’?"

  "Yeah. Like you might find a soldier haunting his old post because he was never dismissed, in which case you would have to try to find a sympathetic army officer to dismiss him. Or a little girl might not be able to rest until her favourite toy is returned to her - that sort of thing. Mostly they're scared of 'moving on' and make excuses to stay around. To put it bluntly, in most cases I honestly don't have the time to pander to a bunch of cowardly spooks."

  "So you think they should get an afterlife!" retorted Sonia with a grin. She had left her fangs at home this evening much to Moon's relief.

  Moon laughed and hugged her to him. "Yes, I suppose you could say that."

  Moon and Sonia continued to chat and cuddle, relaxing more into each other's company as the night progressed. They had already established what they felt for one another so now they were able to forget their earlier problems and just be themselves. Strangely enough, the fact that sex wasn't an option at present seemed to allow them to draw closer emotionally. To put it bluntly, they were falling in love and enjoying it immensely.

  As drinking up time drew to a close Sonia grabbed Moon's hand. "It can only really be coffee tonight but would you like to come back to our place. We'll be alone; Avril is staying over at Roger's for the weekend."

  "I'd like that," replied Moon, eager to spend more time together. "I don't have work tomorrow or anything that needs getting up early for." So they collected their belongings and exited the Hangman's Rest hand in hand.

  As they left the car park they passed the dark entrance to the alleyway where Moon had glimpsed a spirit the night before. He glanced at it in passing and instantly regretted doing so. "Sonia, tell me, the missing Goths, does one of them have a skeleton tattooed on his left arm made to look like it's breaking through cracked porcelain?"