The Girl in the Moon

by Terry Goodkind

  He froze.

  “Did you hear that click?” she asked.

  “Uh … yeah?”

  “That was the safety coming off. I’ve had a very bad day and I’m in a really, really bad mood. Right now I’d like nothing more than an excuse to pull the trigger.

  “If you so much as fantasize about touching me again I’m going to send a bullet ricocheting around the inside your thick cranium. Do you know what ‘cranium’ means, dumb fuck?”

  Her tone of voice turned him cautious. “Yeah, I know.”

  “What? What ‘cranium’ means? Or that you’re a dumb fuck?”

  He didn’t seem to know what she wanted him to say. “Uh …”

  “All right, Malcolm,” Nate said, “listen to me—I know what’s going through your head right now and believe me, you’re just starting and you haven’t had enough lessons yet to even think of trying to disarm this pissed-off young lady before she could pull the trigger.”

  Nate gently put his fingers on Angela’s forearm. “It’s all right. I swear I won’t let him touch you again, so why don’t you put the gun away?”

  Angela glanced at his eyes. They were calm and confident. She put the safety back on as she pulled the gun from under Malcolm’s chin. She slipped the weapon back into its holster.

  Nate put a hand against Malcolm’s sweaty shoulder, right over a tattooed nuclear radiation symbol, backing him away a few steps. “I think we should call it a day. We’ll pick it up from there next week.” He pointed a thumb toward the door. “See you then.”

  Malcolm frowned in confusion at what had just happened and his quick dismissal. His bug eyes twitched back and forth between Nate and Angela.

  “Fucking little cunt,” he finally said.

  Angela glared at him. “Sticks and stones.”

  “All right, that’s enough,” Nate told Malcolm as he started forward. “You know that one of the things I teach is when to walk away. This is one of those times. You don’t need to prove that you can beat up a hundred-fifteen-pound girl. You’ve made your point. I’ll see you next week.”

  Malcolm looked between them once more and then finally snatched his shirt off the back of a chair. With the shirt clutched in his fist, he stormed out the door.

  When she looked back, Nate had a puzzled frown as he stared at her. “Do I know you? You look familiar.”

  She could see in his eyes that he was a killer, but in some mystifying way it was different from the eyes of every killer she’d ever seen before. Looking into his eyes brought on that same primal, bone-chilling fear of a predator, but at the same time there wasn’t the vicious quality to go with it. She also didn’t have any visions of him killing, only vague shadows fighting. It was oddly disorienting, because it was alarming but at the same time calming.

  “Kind of. I’m Angela Constantine. Sally’s daughter. You used to come around to the parties at our trailer.”

  He snapped his fingers. A pleasant smile spread across his features as he pointed at her.

  “Right … Sally’s daughter.” He gave her a quick look down and back up. “Damn, girl. When you grew up, you did it right.”

  She was not in the mood for flattery. “Are you still doing drugs?”

  The question momentarily threw him off. He recovered quickly.

  “Nah,” he said with a dismissive gesture rather than get defensive, “that was a phase. I was hanging out with the wrong crowd.”

  “In my experience, people who say that are the wrong crowd.”

  He turned a little more serious. “If you really must know, it had to do with a girl named Becky that I thought I was in love with at the time. I would have walked off a cliff if she asked me to. I was young and stupid back then.” He waved off the subject. “So, what brings you here?”

  “I’m interested in learning some self-defense.”

  He smiled as he shook his head. “Are you sure that you need it? You’re pretty damn fast with that gun.”

  Angela didn’t return the smile. “Guns can’t always save you. Sometimes you don’t have a gun when you need it most. Even if you do, you might not be able to get to it fast enough. Even worse, some people know how to take a gun away from you before you can use it to save yourself…. Sometimes you simply get overpowered.”

  He turned more serious when he saw that she wasn’t smiling.

  “You’re right. Not Malcolm—not yet, anyway—but there are people who can take a gun away from you before you know what happened and then you’re in a whole lot of trouble. If it’s a bad guy, you’re dead.”

  Angela studied his eyes for a moment. “You went to prison for killing a guy. Why did you kill him?”

  He lifted a hand as if in defense. “Whoa, there. What kind of question is that?”

  “The kind of question I have to ask before I agree to let you teach me anything.”

  “Before you agree … ?” He planted his fists on his hips. “What if I don’t want you as a student?”

  “Then I’ll find someone else. I started with you because I always thought you were a decent guy, despite the people you were hanging out with. I’m a pretty good judge of character. I wanted to come to you first because I thought you would remember me and might be willing to help me.”

  “I see.”

  “So why did you kill a man?”

  He chewed his bottom lip as he stared off for a moment, apparently considering if he wanted to answer her. Finally, he looked back at her.

  “Becky—that girl I told you I was in love with—discovered meth. She was getting wasted on it more and more often. Whenever I asked her to stop she would call me a chickenshit loser. So, for a while, I went along with it. I didn’t want her to dump me so I smoked pot when she did meth or when we partied. At your house when she smoked crack and I would smoke weed. I was trying to fit into her world and be part of her life.

  “But I finally grew up enough to realize that I deserved better, so I told Becky we were through and I quit seeing her. Quit cold turkey. It hurt and at the same time it was a relief, you know?

  “Anyway, she was royally pissed. Becky was damn good looking and no one had ever dumped her before. She didn’t like it. She wanted revenge.

  “She told this other guy—a guy she was two-timing me with but I hadn’t known about—that I beat her up all the time so she’d left me for him. The guy was always getting wired on angel dust. One night he came looking for me to avenge the damsel.

  “He caught me leaving a convenience store. I told him he could have Becky with my blessings, but the guy wouldn’t listen to anything I said. I didn’t want to fight him. He wasn’t having it and he got really pissed when I simply kept him off me and wouldn’t fight him.

  “Then he came at me with a knife. I could tell by his eyes that he was flying on angel dust, and that he was serious about intending to kill me.

  “He was a big guy and he kept swinging that knife at me. I tried to hurt him enough to make him stop, but he was so high on PCP that he wasn’t feeling any pain. Finally, when he lunged at me, I put him down hard to buy me enough time to leave.

  “The thing is, when I flipped him down on the ground he landed on the stub of a signpost that had been broken off by a car. It was a freak thing. It severed his spine at the base of his skull and killed him instantly.”

  When Angela had lived at home there were people who did Supergrass—marijuana combined with PCP. She knew how much it messed people up. The ones who did straight PCP called it Rocket Fuel. It made them behave like they were insane. Angela hid from them.

  “That sounds like self-defense to me.”

  Nate lifted his arms in frustrated agreement. “It was! I was going to be cleared of any wrongdoing. But then this fucking asshole of a prosecutor came across the case. He was running for reelection at the time and he wanted to look tough on crime.

  “He wanted a murder case to puff himself up to voters. He had a dead guy and me. So he said it was a love triangle and charged me with second-degree murder. H
e got that bitch, Becky, to testify against me. She loved that. She wanted revenge for me dumping her.

  “Fortunately, the jury didn’t entirely believe her and they convicted me of the lesser charge of manslaughter. I served a little over two years. So there it is. That’s how I ended up killing a guy and serving time. Becky got to gloat to her friends how she’d put me away.”

  “Who was the prosecutor?”

  “John Babington. Jobs are scarce in Milford Falls to start with, but on top of that, being a convicted felon makes it nearly impossible to get hired. I’ve studied martial arts almost since I was in diapers. So, I decided to put it to use and open my own martial arts studio to make a living.”

  “Could you have killed that guy intentionally, if you needed to?”

  He looked like he couldn’t believe she doubted his ability. “In the first second he came at me I could have broken his neck. I could have killed him a dozen different ways if I had wanted to mess him up. No problem. But I wasn’t looking to kill him, or even hurt him. I was simply trying to leave. I was done with that drama queen and I didn’t want to get dragged back into a soap opera.

  “But Babington was happy to fuck up my life as long as he could use my case to help him get elected.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  “As it just so happens,” Angela said, “I met John Babington today. It did not go well.”

  He looked surprised, and a little suspicious. “Really. What were you doing with Babington?”

  Angela pulled out the mug shots. She unfolded them and handed all four to Nate.

  “I have a courier business. I delivered a package to these four men. They overpowered me, raped me, beat me nearly to death, then hung me by my neck from a beam and left me to die.”

  “Yeah …” he said quietly, “I saw what’s left of the bruises and abrasions around your neck from the rope. I wondered what that was about. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

  He gave her a puzzled look. “But if they left you hanging there by your neck, how the hell did you get out of it?”

  Angela pulled her knife from her boot and held the blade up briefly, then slid it back down into its sheath. He looked a little surprised to see that besides the gun she also had a knife.

  “I gave the police their license plate number along with their names and descriptions. All four were arrested. John Babington dropped the charges and had them released.”

  Nate made a face. “Why?”

  “They’re illegal aliens. This is a sanctuary state. Babington didn’t want to be accused of being a racist for prosecuting illegal aliens, or get in trouble with the politicians above him for violating that policy. It would be bad for his career. So, he dropped the charges.

  “When I objected he said I was a whore and implied that I probably got what I deserved for enticing the men. The police had confiscated my knife when I was in the hospital. He threatened to prosecute me on concealed-weapon charges, along with invented drug charges, if I made a fuss over it. He’s a pompous prick. I knew better than to cross him.”

  Nate let out a sigh. “That sounds like Babington. I’m glad you were smart enough not to test him. He would have carried out the threat. Believe me, I know.” He folded his arms. “So, what do you want from me?”

  “Those four men overpowered me in an instant. I had this knife on me, but they grabbed my wrists before I could even try to get to it. I tried as hard as I could to get out of their grip, but I couldn’t. They were a lot stronger than me. I was at their mercy and they had none. I was helpless. I don’t like being helpless.”

  His expression reflected his understanding as she went on.

  “I know that people who don’t have a weapon, but who know what they’re doing, can get out of it when men grab them, and even turn the tables on them. I know that there are people who know how to put down the threat, even though the men are stronger. But I didn’t know how to do it.

  “I spent hours being abused and beaten by these men. You can’t imagine the degrading things they did to me, or how they hurt me. I nearly died. I thought for sure that I was going to die, hanging there.”

  “Thank god you survived. At least it’s over.”

  Angela shook her head. “I know them. These aren’t regular bad guys. They’re something more. They would know by now that I escaped the death they had planned for me, and now that they’re out of jail they will come after me to finish what they started. Besides that, it’s also a matter of their masculinity, their imagined superiority. A woman bested them. They can’t have that.

  “But it’s not just those four. I tend bar and that can be risky at times. I’m a woman, and I’m not as strong as most men. On top of that, for some reason I seem to attract bad guys. I want to know how to stop killers like these four—or any man, for that matter, who intends me harm.

  “Can you teach me that?”

  Nate shrugged. “Sure. I’m strongly in favor of women knowing how to protect themselves. But it takes—”

  “You don’t understand. I don’t have a lifetime to devote myself to learning some kind of higher way of life. I don’t want a hobby or inner peace. I don’t want to learn forms and ritual moves that have fancy names. I’m not a bored housewife. I’m not a gullible girl looking for the meaning of life. I don’t have time for any of that crap.

  “I’m not interested in learning to protect myself the way you teach women to protect themselves. This isn’t about empowerment.

  “I don’t want to learn martial arts and get colored belts. I want you to teach me down-and-dirty street fighting. I want you to teach me how to hurt people who need hurting.

  “Those four men are out there somewhere. I want you to teach me how to put them down when they come after me. I don’t want you to teach me how to simply get out of their grip so I can run away.”

  Nate cocked his head. “But there are a number of steps—”

  “And I also don’t want to go to classes with other women. I’m not looking to compete in stages or any of that stuff. I’m only interested in one thing. I want you to teach me how to fucking kill them.

  “I know how to do it with a gun or a knife and if I can I will, but I need to know how to do the same thing if I can’t get to a weapon in time. I don’t want to be defenseless if all I have are my bare hands.

  “That’s what I need you to teach me.”

  He studied her eyes for a moment as he considered. “You’re talking about something very different than my standard self-defense training.”

  “Like I said, I don’t need a hobby.”

  “You’re talking about some serious, game-ending moves.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I don’t ordinarily teach those to idiots like Malcolm. You’re talking about things that can break bones or even kill. You only use deadly force in life-and-death situations, when it’s you or them—the same as with a gun.”

  “I understand.”

  He looked dead serious as he considered her for a few moments longer. “You would have to come in for a few hours every day for a while. That would give you a good variety of effective moves—the kind of things you’re talking about. You can learn those moves fairly easily, actually, if that’s all you’re interested in learning. You’re not interested in advancing through martial arts, so you can do without most of the rest of it. You won’t understand the totality of it, but you will know how to seriously hurt people.”

  “As long as I’m able to put a guy down so he can’t get up. If necessary, not ever.”

  He appraised her for a moment longer. “I’m a convicted felon. I’m not legally allowed to teach anything like you’re talking about, so it would have to be kept strictly confidential. You can’t ever let the authorities know where you learned it.”

  “Not a problem.”

  “It also means it would need to be private sessions—just you and me—so that no one else would know about it. That’s time I can’t teach classes. Private lessons like that are going to cost you.”
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br />   “My grandparents used to protect me from the kind of men who hung around my mother’s trailer. When they died they left me a little money. I’m sure they would love nothing more than for some of that money to go toward me learning how to better protect myself.”

  Nate nodded. “If you’re sure you’re serious, I’ll cancel some classes. That time will be for you exclusively. You will be my only student. I’ll lock the door. I’ll leave some time on both sides of your time here so people won’t see you come and go. No one will see you train or see you in here, and no one will know about this.”

  “Perfect.”

  “I’ll skip all the forms and traditional instruction. It’s basically repetition practice of game-stopping moves. I’ll just teach you what you need to know to escape from the grip of an attacker and cripple him for life if you need to, and if necessary, to kill him.” He smiled to lighten the grim mood. “And when you’re done with a lesson, you can always go next door and get your nails done.”

  “When do I start?”

  Nate shrugged. “Right now if you want.”

  “I do. Do I have to change?”

  “Are you planning on changing your clothes before someone tries to kill you?”

  For the first time since coming into the place, Angela smiled. “No, I guess not.”

  He smiled with her. She liked his smile.

  “Well all right then.”

  “How do we start?”

  “First, I want you to listen to me. Going over that line with the clear intent to kill is not something that most people can do. Even seriously hurting someone is something a lot of people aren’t willing to do. You have to realize that the things I’m going to teach you can seriously mess someone up. Some of these moves can kill. Most people, when it comes right down to it, can’t bring themselves to kill.

  “These moves can be just as deadly as using your knife on someone. Dead is dead. I want you to think about it—could you actually stab someone if you had to?”

  Angela almost laughed, but she didn’t. “If someone comes at me to kill me, then they are going to get what they deserve. I don’t have a problem with that. So how do we begin?”