A Moonlit Task

by Tom Hansen

  “Where is Peter?”

  It was unmistakably Anca’s voice, but she sounded like she was only a few feet away instead of the forty feet that it looked to Nancy’s eyes. Her words had an accusatory edge to them, something Nancy didn’t want to deal with right now. She just wanted to make sure Peter was okay.

  She blinked, taking a tentative step back, and Anca was suddenly at the bottom of the stairs.

  Nancy blinked again and considered turning to see if Edna was watching, but before she could, Anca stepped out of the shadow of the alleyway into the diminished sunlight of the early afternoon.

  How did she get down here so fast?

  “Where is he, witch?” Anca’s thick Eastern European accent was coated in bile and poison. She was out for blood. “I know you’ve been filling his head with lies. Where is he?”

  “I–I don’t know.” Nancy still couldn’t believe this was happening. Where was Edna? Was she hearing all this? Anca was yelling at the top of her lungs, mere feet from Nancy, yet despite her scratchy old-woman voice, her words boomed like thunder in the open air.

  Chimes rang, the door to the restaurant opened, and a couple with a small child came out, chattering in some Asian language Nancy couldn’t place.

  Anca glared at the family, then back to Nancy. “I better not see you around here again. You leave him alone.”

  Nancy finally got her wits about her. “I came here looking for him since he ran out of my house.” Her tone was pointed but her volume low, so as not to make a scene. “I don’t know what you’re doing to him, but I will find out and report you to the authorities.”

  Anca smiled, her aged teeth seemed to be covered in some sticky residue. “We shall see about that, witch.” Her eyes glanced over to the family, now standing at the bus stop about twenty feet away. “I warn you this last time. Do not come here again or I will find you. We shall see just how latent you are.”

  Anca turned around, took two steps back into the darkened alleyway, and was gone from sight.

  Nancy blinked. “How did she do that?” she mumbled to herself.

  “Wow.” Edna chimed in from behind her. “You were not kidding. She’s mad as hell.”

  Nancy turned to find her friend leaning up against the car with the driver’s side door opened. Nancy sighed. She looked back down the alleyway and then glanced up at Anca’s arched windows. She thought she saw a shape in the window but when she looked again it was just a shadow.

  “Let’s go.” Nancy said. “I’ll explain my theory on the way home.”

  Nancy was unusually tired by the time she headed to bed that night.

  While she wasn’t a religious sort, she almost felt like praying. She opted instead for standing on the balcony off her bedroom and watching the odd dancing lights of what had to be drunk fireflies in her backyard. It was so peaceful, so serene. How had she lived here all these years and never noticed them before? She finally decided to speak her mind into the air.

  “It’s been a long time, Richard. Too long, in fact. I don’t want to admit it, but maybe it is time for me to move on. I hope you are okay with this. I don’t know how much longer I can wait. If you’re going to come back, now would be a good time.”

  Nancy crawled under the covers and wept into her pillow before she fell asleep.

  If she had been paying attention, she might have noticed two points of reflected moonlight that watched her from the large oak tree in her backyard.

  Chapter Eleven

  Following an afternoon visiting old friends at the library, Nancy knew something was wrong the second she walked in her front door. Something didn’t feel right; the hairs on her arms stood up. There was a lingering pungency like stale urine and wet hair that hung in the air. The sun would be going down in about an hour and the thought of it becoming dark so soon chilled her to her core.

  “Hello?” Her voice was hesitant, cautious. She held onto the heavy oak door with one hand as she scanned around. No one was here and there was no kitten around this time.

  Turning to the left, she saw that the pile of boxes looked different, taller perhaps? Fuller?

  “Peter?”

  She called out for him twice, but no answer.

  She finally let the door swing closed and took a step into the parlor. As she walked closer, the stack of books and ancient boxes was noticeably larger, especially since Nancy and Edna hadn’t even made it through one box yesterday before the entire project derailed.

  Again, she called out to him, but her house was deathly silent. Despite her original trepidation, something inside of her told her that she was alone. She could feel the calm slowly spreading through her chest.

  She turned around to put down her purse when she noticed something that didn’t seem to fit. Under a book near the top of the newly formed pile was a bright red piece of paper.

  In a sea of yellowed pages, brown leather bindings, and dust, it stood out.

  She bent down and tugged on the corner. Out came a piece of artwork with a calendar on the bottom. She flipped it over to see a list of food items listed in both Chinese and English. It was a takeout menu.

  Nancy recognized the name of Uncle Airo’s.

  The printed menu wasn’t the only writing on the paper. Near the bottom, overwritten in small, neat, blocky letters was a long paragraph written in blue ink.

  It wasn’t any handwriting she recognized.

  She read through his note.

  Miss Nancy,

  I’m sorry that I left yesterday. I didn’t realize who you were at first and I thought I was being attacked. I ran and I should not have. I’m sorry I scared you. You already paid me for the work and I didn’t want to leave you without it completed, so I wanted to get it out of the way. I’m sorry for intruding. You weren’t here and I already wanted to return your keys from yesterday. I put them on the key ring by the front door.

  I thought about what you said and I have decided I will be leaving Madison this afternoon.

  Have you ever had the feeling that your life is not your own? That somehow, something inside of you was triggered and you can never go back to being the person you thought you were? Does it terrify you as much as is does me?

  My father gave me a small jade figurine when I left, told me to keep it by me at all times, that it would help me. Anca took that from me so I took something precious to her.

  Thank you for being a good friend. I haven’t had many since I moved here and you are the first person I’ve met since Linda that genuinely seems to be concerned for people rather than using them.

  Thank you again for the food and the money, but most of all the friendship. It’s good to know I’m not alone in this new world. I will write you once I’m back in California.

  -Peter Lin

  P.S. Do not tell anyone about the book. I couldn’t take it with me, so I left it here. Please hide it and be careful. If anyone were to find out, it would be bad.

  She re-read the letter once more, curious about what he meant by leaving it here. She looked around the room for something out of place but she didn’t see anything that she didn’t remember being in the attic the day before. She would have to ask him what it was and where he hid it when she wrote him.

  “I will be careful, Peter; I won’t tell her.” Nancy turned and looked down the hallway to the library where she knew the cat figurine sat in a drawer.

  She had planned on giving it to him yesterday after he’d finished with the boxes, but he had bolted before she’d had the chance.

  Well, once he writes me, I can mail it to him.

  Nancy sat down on the loveseat, feeling a little overwhelmed. The last few days had been a whirlwind of activity and the reality that she had helped convince Peter to leave was a bit too much to process while standing. She had helped him. She didn’t know how much, but she had, and even though she may never get the full story of what was going on in his life, apparently it had been sufficient, and that was enough for her to feel good about the situation.

 
She hoped he was okay. No one should be abused, especially someone so young, and not knowing exactly how bad it had been was getting to her in the worst way. Her mind could imagine some pretty awful things. She had witnessed plenty being an elementary school teacher, seeing how some parents treated their children. The dredged up memories of past abuses and all the strange things going on in her life lately was too much for her to handle.

  At first, she fought back the tears, trying to keep her composure despite being alone, but the emotions weighed heavy and tears flowed down her cheeks, dripping onto her shirt.

  Nancy trudged upstairs to the narrow staircase. She hesitated at the bottom of the attic stairs but finally breathed deeply and headed up. Sure enough, the entire attic was cleared out. Even the small sitting area in the center that Nancy had forgotten to mention to Peter to leave. He had swept the dust on the floor and wiped down the dormer windows to allow more light into the room.

  She smiled and re-read his note. “What a nice young man.” Nancy wished she knew what was going on with him so she could help. She had her suspicions but nothing concrete.

  Nancy went back down to her kitchen and put on her pot of water to brew up some tea.

  She was excited to delve more into Richard’s old books with Edna; it felt liberating. Nancy had forgotten how much stuff one could accumulate over time.

  Now she would need to get someone to help her clear out the basement.

  “Yell-ow!” Despite her cheery verbiage, Nancy suspected Edna had woken from a nap to answer the phone.

  “I woke you, didn’t I?”

  “What? No—” Edna’s excuse devolved into a yawn. “Well, maybe just a little cat nap.”

  “Yeah, and I’m the Queen. So Peter came by and finished up the attic. The entire living room is filled with boxes. He’s also heading back home to California.”

  Nancy read the letter to Edna, leaving out the P.S. at the bottom, since she herself didn’t understand what he was talking about.

  Edna let out a slow, low whistle. “I guess you were right. I would have never guessed that Anca could be doing something to that kid.”

  “Well, at least he’s heading back home. I hope he gets the help he needs.”

  Nancy caught herself twirling her finger, her hand huddled to her shoulder, reminiscent of the corded phones of yore. Something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention in the pile. She looked over but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

  “I was calling to see if you wanted to come over to check out things with me.”

  “Oh I am so there. Let me swing by the store and grab some food and I’ll bring it over. What are you up for?”

  Nancy put a hand to her stomach. “Honestly? Anything but Chinese.” Her mind wandered as she glanced over at the pile again, something was there. She felt it in her stomach as well this time, a cross between a mild stomachache and cramps.

  “How about some wine?”

  She forced herself to look away, back toward the butler’s pantry. “I have racks of wine that I’ll never drink because you keep buying more. I’ll dive into the cellar and get some out.”

  “Roger, Roger. I’ll be over soon.”

  After hanging up, Nancy walked into the foyer and put her hands on her hips as she looked at the nearly filled room and the narrow walkways on both sides. “By morning, I will have conquered you.”

  She was about to take a step toward the kitchen when her eye finally caught something out of place.

  All the books and boxes were covered with a layer of dust that Nancy knew had been much worse before Peter blew them off before bringing them downstairs. But there, buried in the midst of the mound, was something that very nearly shone like the light of the moon amidst a sea of stars. How she had missed it earlier was unknown, but it was obvious now.

  She walked over to the pile and picked up a couple smalls boxes strategically placed on top so as to hide what was underneath without squishing anything. She set them off to the side and looked at the book.

  Nearly a foot and a half tall, and over a foot wide, the book looked positively ancient. Its thick leather cover featured an ornate carving of interwoven geometric shapes. The binding was brittle and black, like it had been charred, and among all the dusty odors of the room, she could smell the book from where she stood. The smell was nauseating, like overly-roasted pork, ammonia, and burnt hair.

  She reached down and put both hands around it to hoist it up. The leather was rough on her skin, and it seemed to hum with electricity through her fingers. Her hands barely made it from the front to the back cover. She grunted with the heft of the weighty tome.

  Leaning backward to help her balance, she walked to her library where the lights were on and her small writing desk lay open to use. Dust curled up in wisps as she set it down.

  It was then that she noticed something else odd about the book cover. What looked like it would be an extended flap of leather wrapped around the end and seemingly melted into the book, though there was a bit of a joint where the flap disappeared, there was no indication of how to separate the two. She groaned with the effort of picking up the side so she could see better. It was like the entire cover was constructed of one solid piece of leather surrounding the entire book, preventing it from ever opening.

  She put it back down and turned the light toward the book.

  The ancient carvings on the front cover faded as they neared the edges. A deep-seated sense of unease came over her. This was no ordinary book, and it screamed something dark and sinister. Why was it in her house? Was this something Richard had kept upstairs? She wondered if he had more of them and glanced over at the large pile out of habit, but as she did, Peter’s note grabbed her attention. The last few lines stood out to her.

  “P.S. Do not tell anyone about the book. I couldn’t take it with me, so I left it here. Please hide it and be careful. If anyone were to find out, it would be bad.”

  She looked back down at the book. It wasn’t Richards, it was Peters! She re-read his entire note twice wondering if he had told her what this was and why he had brought it.

  The book almost felt unworldly, and despite Nancy not believing in the occult or magic, the thought refused to dissipate. Horror flashed across her mind as she wondered if things has been even worse for him than she’d assumed. She’d thought there had been some emotional or verbal abuse, maybe even physical … but if this book was somehow involved then maybe it was something else.

  She lingered on the cover, half wondering if she’d seen those markings before. They looked eerily familiar.

  Had she?

  Nancy grabbed a handle of the desk and yanked. Objects inside scraped and bumped with the force of the action. She reached in and took out the small jade figurine given to her by Linda a few nights before.

  Her heart pounded in her chest, anticipation growing. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been so excited and terrified at the same time. Her face was unnaturally warm, and she could feel her heartbeat in her temples and neck.

  She turned over the jade figurine in her hand and held it under the light. She knew the characters on the face of the statue were most likely Chinese, but she had failed to recognize the ones on the bottom. The sharp lines and acute angles in the characters matched the style she now saw on the front cover of the book. They vaguely reminded her of Gaelic runes, but not quite. They were thin, with harsh angles and a violent slant to them she had never seen before in any ancient language.

  She knelt down to inspect the book further. As she bent over, she saw something that caught her breath. There was a man’s face on the cover of the book! It looked twisted in agony, and distorted, but it was there!

  She pulled the book closer to the edge of the desk and placed the figurine on its side so the characters scratched into the soft rock faced her, and she compared.

  It wasn’t exact, but she decided that a few of the letterings on the bottom of the figurine were similar in shape, though not as fancily styled
as the ones on the cover on the book. They reminded her of another object she had seen recently that had similar runes. She stopped, and gasped in excitement. The bottle of wine! She had to go look.

  Lights blinked through her window and Nancy froze as she turned toward the exit of the library.

  Edna! How long have I been looking at this?

  A moment of panic struck Nancy, but she breathed and wondered why she was panicking about her best friend coming by the house.

  She got herself up and looked at the two objects lying on her writing desk. She frowned. She shouldn’t still be keeping secrets, but she didn’t know what this was all about, or why this book was in her house to begin with. Besides, how strange was it that the jade cat and the book had matching runes, from a language she had never seen before?

  She thought back to Peter’s admonition to keep the book secret.

  She needed to hide both it and the figurine from Edna, at least till she figured out what all this was about.

  Outside her house she heard the car door slam shut and Edna’s whistle as she walked around the car.

  The wall opposite the door into the library was filled floor to ceiling with an intricately carved credenza. The bottom was lined with cabinets. The top was bookshelves. In between the shelves were pillars that separated the three sections of the case from each other. These wooden pieces were so intricately carved Nancy had wondered for years who the artist was that had made them.

  But one of them housed a secret she had learned when her husband was still around. There was a hidden compartment.

  Thank you, Richard.

  Nancy stuck her hand underneath one of the bookcases and ran her fingers along the small grooves. She counted out to the fifth one, spread her hand, and pushed on the three closest grooves. A minute click sounded as the internal locking mechanism released, and a three-foot section of the intricate carving folded out on silent hinges. Nancy hefted the large tome from the desk to place it into the hiding spot. Like a cat being stuffed into a space that it doesn’t want to go, the book seemed to resist. She wasn’t able to push it through the opening, as-if some unseen barrier prevented the book from going in.