Stalking the Moon

by Angel Leigh McCoy

  I looked behind us—I couldn’t help it—and saw the hag hulk out of Corona’s room, in no hurry. She knew we had nowhere safe to go.

  Just then, Nurse Bea emerged from one of the bedrooms, carrying sheets. She was a surreal vision, out of place, a ghost. She walked right by the hag without seeing it and headed toward us.

  “What are you three doing? Oh dear Heaven, Corona! Are you ill?”

  The hag followed her.

  I cried, “Watch out!” but it was too late. Bea couldn’t see the hag, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t hurt her.

  The creature grabbed the nurse and slammed her face-first into the wall. The thud of skull hitting plaster and the crunch of breaking cartilage were the only sounds she made.

  Nurse Bea went limp and fell to the floor, leaving a smear of blood where her face slid against the apple-blossom and peach wallpaper.

  The hag looked at me with intent.

  Corona and Polly loped toward the rec room. I backed that way more slowly, ready to stall it until the others got to safety.

  The hag's gaze moved from me to them, and then she jumped past me. It happened so fast. She clung to the wall and crawled near the ceiling toward Corona and Polly.

  I tried to warn them. I opened my mouth and cried, “Polly!”

  Polly turned just as the hag got there.

  The creature reached for Corona, but Polly put herself between them and shouted, “Keep away, you bitch!”

  I ran and shouted, “Get away!” My whole body buzzed, my belly full of wasps. I stopped in place and pointed at the creature. “Go away!”

  A shiver ran through the hag's body. She cringed and turned to look at me.

  I met her eyes, and with clenched teeth, said, “Go away.”

  Her face reddened. Her neck muscles clenched, and for a second, I thought she would attack me instead, but she didn’t. She raised her arms and spun in place, a single rotation.

  Her claws cut across Polly’s neck.

  A spray of blood hit the wall.

  And then, the hag was gone.

  Polly folded to the floor.

  Corona began to scream in great, gulping bursts.

  I fell to my knees and crawled to Polly.

  Her eyes were already vacant, her mouth open with surprise. I put my hand over the wound in her neck and felt the blood, hot and wet, pulse against it. The hag had sliced right through her burn scars.

  Corona kept screaming. I looked over and saw the horrified expression on her face, the terror in her eyes. She had her hands to her mouth, balled into fists. She was seated on the floor, pushing herself backwards, away from Polly. Where she scooted, she left a streak through the blood spatter.

  Polly’s blood stopped pulsing and just flowed smooth, thick, and red. Dead Polly—willowy and limp—was the most awful thing I’d ever seen.

  I tried to suck in breaths through my open mouth, but I couldn't get much air in. I panted with an irregular rhythm, unblinking, disbelieving.

  A hoard of nurses surrounded me. They were a murder of albino crows, raucous and ravenous. I wasn’t big enough nor strong enough to shoo them away. They tugged at me, pulled at my clothes, and carried me away. They scratched at the cuts on my back and hand. They stuck me with pins and needles.

  ♦♦♦

  CHAPTER 27

  Awake, but not quite sure I was alive, I took inventory. I was in a bed. My head felt fuzzy. My mouth was dry. They had sedated me. I was nauseated, and I remembered.

  Polly.

  I got out of bed, unsteady on my feet. I hurt. There were bandages wrapped around my hand and more on my back. It hurt more when I touched them.

  Everything moved in slow motion. I dragged myself to the door and pulled it open. The far end of the hall was cordoned off with screaming-yellow police tape, and they'd rolled in curtained screens to hide the stain where Polly had died.

  My vision swam, and I leaned heavily against the wall.

  “They moved her.” Eun Hee said quietly from her own doorway. “Corona’s in 210 now.”

  “Thanks.”

  Eun Hee added, “We're not allowed to leave our rooms. We have to go with a nurse, up the back stairs to the third floor, to use the toilet.”

  Dahlia's door cracked open and her nose peeked out. She stage-whispered, “What the fuck happened to you guys?”

  “I smell blood,” said Iraida, voice throaty, from her doorway.

  “They’re going to serve us breakfast in our rooms tomorrow,” said Calla from behind her door. “It’s grapefruit day.”

  Eun Hee said, "If you want to see Corona, go now before the guard gets back."

  I hustled down to room 210.

  Corona was in bed, unconscious. She was alive, but her neck was dark with bruises. She had dried drool on her chin and dried tears on her cheeks. She was wearing baby blue pajamas with pandas on them. They fit her body, but not her soul.

  Crying, I curled against her and rested my head on her shoulder. I draped an arm over her.

  She made a small noise and whispered, “Please don’t leave me.”

  “I won’t. I promise.”

  We slept—

  —until something woke me. Someone pulled on me and moved my arm. I was afraid. I fought, and my elbow smashed into someone.

  I heard, “Fuck! Viviane, calm down. You can’t stay here.”

  And, “Give me the syringe.”

  A woman whispered, “Shhhh. It’s okay. You’re going to be fine.”

  “Take her back to her own room.”

  And I said, “No, please. I can’t leave her. Don’t make me leave her.”

  They carried me, and the world tilted sideways.

  ♦

  “Viv.”

  “Viviane.”

  “Viviane Rose.”

  I fought my way back to consciousness and blinked my eyes open. The bed spun beneath me, and I hung onto the cold, metal headboard.

  “Viviane, wake up.” It was Simon.

  “Where’s Corona?” I asked.

  “She’s safe. She woke up a couple hours ago. I guess they didn’t use as much sedative on her. She and I had a long talk. She’s going to be okay, but she’s shifting from freaked out to pissed off pretty quickly. I need you to wake up before she does something stupid.”

  “Can she come in here?”

  “They've shut everyone in their rooms and posted a nurse in the hallway,” said Simon, “but I can be her look-out. We just have to wait until the monitor goes to the toilet. The police aren’t back yet, but they will be. You're both lucky you aren't in straight jackets. Fortunately, that nurse vouched for you. Said someone came up behind her.”

  “Go get Corona," I said.

  The room went quiet, and I drifted back to sleep. The next thing I knew, Corona snuck in and said, “We’ve got to kill it. Now.” Her voice had a scratchy quality, as if she’d been screaming for hours or smoking for decades. “I’ll go after it myself. I’ll get a chainsaw and chop it up. I’ll pour acid on it. I’ll—”

  “—call it bad names until it cries?” Simon interrupted. "Or strangles you again?"

  “Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Corona shouted. “Asshole. You didn’t see what it did to Polly.”

  I sat up and opened my eyes as wide as they would go. “Shhh… What time is it?”

  “A little after six in the morning,” Simon replied, voice quiet.

  Corona paced at the end of the bed, gesturing on each beat. “I know two things that will probably hurt it pretty bad. Silver and salt.”

  Simon added, “Two of the most magickal substances on Earth.”

  “What about Nurse Bea?” I asked. “Is she okay?”

  “They took her to the hospital,” Corona replied.

  “But, she’s alive, right?” I remembered the sight of Bea’s face hitting the wall.

  “Yeah,” answered Corona. “She’s alive.”

  “This is crazy.” I rubbed my hands over my face.

  “No,” said Corona with the
intensity of a doomsayer. “This is as sane as it gets.”

  “Okay,” I said. “So, we’re going after it?"

  Simon said, “In order to kill a hag, you have to be a stronger predator than it is. You become the aggressor. The hunted hunting the hunter. It’s the only way.”

  I didn’t appreciate the sound of that. “You can kill it, right?”

  Simon huffed a small sigh. “Best I can do is make it back off temporarily. I can't actually hurt it.”

  “Can I kill it?” I asked.

  “Probably. With the right weapon.”

  I nodded. “In for a penny, in for a pound.”

  “A pound of flesh, I'd say,” said Simon, sounding irritated.

  We shared a few minutes of congenial silence, each in our own thoughts, until Corona said, “That police detective asked me if you attacked me.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I told him the truth—that you saved me.”

  ♦

  Richard came by my room just before lunch to check on me. He said he was keeping Detective Hayward on a short leash, but Richard's own questions were just as invasive. What happened? Who did it? Was the attacker male or female? Did I remember anything at all about the attacker? Where had everybody else been at the time of the attack? Why hadn’t anyone seen who did it? Had the attacker said anything?

  I did not follow Corona’s lead. I lied through my teeth and said I didn't see the attacker. Richard, of course, was fascinated. He leaned toward me with a hungry expression on his face.

  “Let's go to my office, and I'll regress you back to yesterday afternoon,” he said. “Maybe we can pull details out that you’ve consciously forgotten.”

  “No. I'm not going to relive that.”

  “Don’t you want to catch Polly’s killer?”

  “Of course, but not like that.”

  “Okay. Maybe tomorrow.”

  Not tomorrow, not ever.

  ♦♦♦

  CHAPTER 28

  By dinner time, we were freed from the lockdown. The police had gathered all their evidence, and the cleaning crew had tackled the hallway and removed the sheeting. The smell of bleach remained, but the blood was gone.

  Today we’re pain.

  I stayed in my room, not wanting to be bombarded with questions.

  At three a.m., on the nose, Corona came into my room. “Viviane, wake up. It’s time.” She tugged on me. “We have to go.”

  Simon was waiting for us in Corona’s new room. The bed held an array of devices: pieces of tarnished silverware (forks and butter knives), syringes, squirt bottles used by the janitors, a carton of table salt, a handful of silver necklaces, and a silver vase of the tall and narrow variety meant for a single rose.

  I stared in wonder. “Wow.”

  “If we ever have an apocalypse,” Corona said, “I’m your girl.”

  “Where’d you get it all?”

  Simon said. “Corona's been busy while you were sleeping.”

  “I borrowed it from all over,” Corona explained. “I stole the silverware from that display cabinet outside the staff lounge. I think it belonged to the Malums. They probably won't even notice until the cleaners go to dust it. And I got squirt bottles from the janitor’s closet, salt from the pantry, necklaces came from Dahlia, and the vase is Calla's.”

  “Where’d you get syringes?”

  “That was the hardest. I had to knock over Nurse Med-head’s cart. She was pissed ‘cause then she had to go refill the med cups from scratch, but I snuck a few syringes into my pockets. I’m hoping she’s so pissed she won’t notice they’re missing.”

  Simon said, “She didn’t notice. She’d have been in here by now.”

  “It helped that Simon was my look-out and that two of the day nurses didn't show up for work this morning. I doubt we’ll ever see them again.”

  “Nice job,” I said.

  Corona came over to stand close beside me. She held my hand. “Simon and I have been talking about our plan. Want to hear it?”

  “Sure.”

  “We figure we’ll need to bring the hag to us.” She looked up at me with her eyes wide and excited. “Then, when it comes, we’ll jump it and kill it. It won’t be expecting an ambush.”

  “That’s a pretty simple plan.”

  Corona nodded. “Elegant.”

  “The back stairwell,” Simon said, “will be our best chance. It’s been spotted in there before. Besides, no one ever goes down that way, so we won't have innocent bystanders.”

  "Or witnesses," added Corona.

  “So,” I said as if it were a foregone conclusion, “I’ll go in first, and when the hag comes after me, you guys help me kill it.”

  Simon objected. “What? I don’t think so. I’ll be the bait.”

  “That’s dumb,” Corona argued. “It’s not after you. It can’t even see you. I’ll go in first.”

  I raised both hands. “No way.”

  “It’s after me.” Corona locked her hands firmly on her hips.

  I shook my head. “It’s after me, too. I’ll be the bait. No arguing.”

  Simon said, “Right-o.” He insisted we each put silver necklaces around our necks and on our wrists to keep the monster from touching us there. Feeling ridiculous, I took my share of syringes primed with salty water, and stuck a fork and butter knife into my pocket. I knew nothing about magickal beings and their vulnerabilities, but I trusted Simon and Corona.

  He said, "Just get the salt water on her however you can."

  I said, “I'm Harry going after Voldemort.”

  Corona replied, “More like Harry going after Bellatrix Lestrange. This hag is just a nasty servant to your nemesis.”

  “I have a nemesis?”

  “Don’t all heroes?”

  “I’m no hero.”

  “Sure you are. You saved my life.” Corona said it as if it were a cosmic truth.

  We eased out into the hallway, trying not to clink or clank, and crept along.

  The other patients were all asleep at that hour, and the only staff on duty were the security guards monitoring the camera feeds, the night nurse, and an orderly named Marsha. Usually, Marsha watched TV all night in the rec room, and Nurse Andrea read a book or surfed the web in the office. That was, at least, what we had been expecting.

  As we advanced down the hall, however, we heard voices ahead, coming from one of the rooms. It was Dahlia’s room. She and Marsha were arguing about her getting back into bed.

  Corona and I froze in place.

  “Let me look,” whispered Simon.

  I crept forward in his wake. Dahlia's door was mostly closed, but through the crack, I saw a sliver of her space. She passed across it, then Marsha did the same.

  “I’m an adult,” said Dahlia.

  “Just shut the fuck up and get into bed, Dahlia. I’m missing my show.”

  “You think I fucking care about that?” Dahlia crawled across her bed, fleeing from Marsha.

  “This is not the time to be wandering around. Remember what happened to Polly.”

  “Like you care.”

  “You know the rules.”

  “I know you can shove the rules up your ass, bitch.” Dahlia crouched on all fours in the middle of her bed.

  “Don't call me that.”

  “Bitch.” Dahlia spat the word, her New Jersey accent adding venom to it.

  Marsha back-handed Dahlia.

  The blow knocked Dahlia to one side. She lay there on the bed, holding her jaw and staring at Marsha with accusatory hatred.

  “Sorry,” said Marsha, her voice smug. “I didn’t see you there.”

  I was going in, all guns firing—and would have, if Corona hadn’t stopped me with a quiet, “We can’t. We have a more important mission.”

  “Stay there, Dahlia,” Marsha commanded. “Don't make me come back in here.”

  When I peered in at Dahlia, she was looking right back at me.

  I put my finger to my lips.

  M
arsha was coming.

  Corona and I looked around desperately for a place to hide. We were doomed little mice, trapped in the path of the lean, mean cat.

  Panic rippled up my spine, and I nearly ran back up the hall.

  Then Dahlia said it again. “Bitch.”

  Marsha made an about-face and stormed across the room to grab Dahlia by the hair. She growled when she said, “Get under the fucking covers.”

  “C’mon,” said Simon. “This is our chance.”

  I caught Dahlia’s eye as Marsha wrenched her onto her back. I mouthed, “Thank you.”

  Dahlia smiled. She actually smiled, then said, “Okay, okay. Knock it off. I’ll behave.”

  We hurried to the exit, and I input the code to let us out of the Women’s Wing. The rest of the halls were deserted at that hour.

  “I can’t believe that,” I said.

  Corona said, “The vampires come out at night.”

  “Marsha’s always that way,” said Simon. “Especially with Dahlia. Dahlia isn’t so good at following orders.”

  “Still, she can’t get away with that. I have to tell somebody.”

  “You can’t,” said Simon and Corona simultaneously. Simon continued, “How are you going to explain why you weren't snug in your bed?”

  He had a point.

  We kept to the walls and shadows until we reached the door to the back stairs.

  Simon said, “Okay, we’ll wait here. Hang onto the vase. If the hag silences you, just drop it. We’ll hear it and come running. If you can, lead the hag here, and we’ll cut off its exit.”

  Corona used the belt from her robe to tie one of the squirt bottles around my waist. It hung down on my hip, a gunslinger's Colt.

  Before I could change my mind, I entered the stairwell. I descended halfway down to the landing between the second and first floors. Nothing happened. I scanned the walls for moving shadows and listened so hard I could hear my own blood.

  Nothing.

  I waited and waited. Tick tock. Time passed without incident. I imagined I was sending my signature out in waves, but I had no idea what I was doing.

  Simon called out from above, “Viviane?”

  “Still nothing.” I was wondering if we were wasting our time, and then I remembered something Colin had said to me. “She nests on the roof.”