MOON FALL

by Tamara Thorne

  "We all have our vices. John, do you know if Dr. Cutter is right about that history teacher retiring from Moonfall High at the end of the semester?"

  "Frank Cutter is all-knowing."

  ''Do you think I'd have a chance at the post?"

  ''Are you kidding? With your background, you'd be in like flint." He tried to suppress a sudden yawn. The day was catching up with him.

  "I'm tired, too," she said, rising. "Are you done with that?"

  He nodded, and she took his cup, drained the bitter chocolate, then set both mugs in the sink and filled them with water.

  "John? You don't happen to have an old T-shirt or something I can wear to bed, do you?"

  "How about a pajama top? Mark gives me pajamas every year in the hopes I'll start wearing them to bed." He realized what he'd said, and added, "I wear shorts."

  She followed him past Mark's closed door to his bedroom.

  He gave her a long pale blue pajama top, then guided her to the guest bathroom where he showed her hotel soaps, toothpaste, shampoo, and even a new toothbrush sealed in plastic.

  Seventy-three

  Sometime during the night, Sara awoke from a nightmare and for a moment she panicked. She didn't know where she was. Then she remembered and tried to relax. In her dream, the ghost had come to her, and instead of black pits, it had Dashwood's eyes. The creature swarmed over her and she came awake clutching her throat, certain she was drowning in ice-cold slime, sure her lungs were filled with the stuff.

  Lying there in the dark, trembling and wishing she wasn't alone, she realized she could hear something- a voice, not in her head, but somewhere outside her room. She rose and tiptoed to the door and opened it a crack.

  "I can't open it!" came John's voice, tortured and loud, even behind his closed door. "Help me!" he cried hoarsely.

  He's having a nightmare, too. She walked to his room and knocked softly on the door.

  "Help me," he pleaded softly.

  Opening the door, she saw him thrashing around under the covers on the tall bed.

  She crossed to him. "John, wake up. You're having a bad dream." She spoke quietly, not wanting to startle him.

  "It won't open," he grunted.

  In the dim moonlight from the window, she made out his face, saw his contorted features. She reached out and placed her hands on his shoulders. "John! Wake up."

  He sat bolt upright, eyes opening wide, breath coming in ragged pants. He stared at her, seemed not to know her, then relaxed.

  “Sorry about that," he said. "Nightmares. Did I wake you up?"

  ''No, my own nightmare did that."

  ''I hate being alone at night," he said a little shakily.

  ''Me, too. What do you say we sleep together before we sleep together?"

  He stared at her a long moment. "I'd like that."

  She closed the door to his room, then climbed into his waterbed. It was warm and it sloshed as she positioned herself, turning on her side and spooning against his body. He put his arm around her waist and tucked her closer to him, not saying a word.

  Soon he was asleep and she lay there listening to the soft, regular rhythm of his breathing. In his sleep he nuzzled against her neck and pressed his legs against hers so that there was no space between them. She smiled to herself as sleep finally came. For all his insistence that he had to protect her, she knew that he needed her as badly as she needed him.

  Seventy-four

  John squinted as morning sunlight streaming through the window washed across his face. More asleep than awake, he turned over and snuggled deeper under the covers- and then realized he wasn't alone. Sara lay on her back sound asleep, her dark hair feathering across the pillow, her face angelic and peaceful. God, she was beautiful.

  He glanced at the alarm clock and was startled to see it was past 7:30. Damn. He'd meant to set it last night- he should have been up an hour ago.

  Moving slowly to avoid waking Sara, he climbed out of bed, then padded out into the hall and down to Mark's room. He rapped on the door. "Mark?"

  The boy didn't answer. He must have slept in, too-he would have knocked on John's door, otherwise. He opened the door and walked in. "Mark? Wake up. You're going to be late for school." He reached down to shake Mark's shoulder, but his fingers closed on nothing but soft material.

  ''Mark?" He pulled the covers back, saw the blanket wadded on top of the sheet. "What the hell?"

  ''Mark?" He called his son several times as he walked through the house. There was no sign of him, not even a note saying where he'd gone.

  ''What's wrong?" Sara rubbed her eyes and sat up as John reentered the bedroom and started dressing.

  "Mark's gone."

  "To school?" she asked.

  He shook his head. "No. I don't even think he was in bed last night- he faked it." He tucked in his shirt and buckled on his gunbelt. "I'm going to make some calls," he said. "This isn't like him, not at all."

  Seventy-five

  Sara had been surprised when John had handed her the keys to his blue Nissan pick-up and asked her to drive to Minerva's to see if she knew where Mark was, but she gladly did it

  She'd driven as far as she could, then began walking the rest of the way. John had been nearly frantic to find Mark, and she finally asked him if he thought the boy had seen them in the same bed and taken off. To her relief, he didn't even hesitate before he said no.

  She reached the cottage and the door opened before she could knock. Minerva's worried face peered out at her, then the door opened wider. "Come inside."

  "Have you seen Mark?" Sara asked, before she even sat down.

  ''No, not since yesterday afternoon. He was going to the Parker place."

  ''Yes. Caspar Parker said he dropped him off at home around 9:15 and saw him go inside." Briefly, she explained how John had discovered the boy was missing this morning. ''Minerva, do you think Mark would run away?"

  "No," the old woman said firmly. "He loves his father, and even if he didn't, it's not the sort of thing he'd do. He's too conscientious for that."

  "John's very worried about him."

  ''With good reason."

  "Minerva, you don't think he's at the abbey, do you?"

  "Not of his own free will, but I wouldn't be surprised if he's been taken there." She rose from her chair and put the teakettle on to boil. "I have a story to tell you. You may have heard some of it already, but you must hear it now, because lives depend on it. John, his son, and Kelly Reed- and you, for that matter- are all in great peril."

  She began the story of the Moonfalls and the Lawsons, stopping briefly to brew more tea, then continued, telling Sara things she already knew, as well as facts that were new to her. Nearly an hour passed before Minerva sat back and sighed. ''And that's why I fear Mark may already have met with foul play. Tell John to check the school and to take his deputies with him. Check the basement."

  "Where the infirmary is?"

  "Yes, and I believe there is a sub-basement as well. Sara, Mark will die tomorrow night, and so will Kelly. John must get them out of there."

  "He wanted me to ask you if you would keep Kelly with you if she shows up today."

  ''Gladly. I should have prevented her return weeks ago."

  "You couldn't know."

  "Oh, but I did. I thought it best to let her go back. I thought it would strengthen her resolve to learn the magic of the right-hand path."

  Sara nodded, not quite sure what the old lady was talking about.

  "You said John took you to see Dr. Cutter. May I ask why?"

  Sara launched into the story, beginning with her gentle dream and ending with the rape. "I'm not sure how I fainted, but I woke up in the infirmary."

  "You surmised correctly that the thing that attacked you was the same phantom that nearly took your life at the Falls. It's a revenant, probably empowered by Dashwood and Lucy. I've encountered it myself, and it reeks of those two."

  ''Did it attack you?"

  "It has tried." She paused. "No
t sexually, not even when I was young. Lucy hates me too much for that. But it's come near my house a number of times and tried to scare me with monstrous appearances and threats. It's even invaded my dreams now and then. But it never lasts long. It takes a tremendous amount of energy, you know, even for those two, to make the phantom take physical form." Minerva took her hands. ''Close your eyes and concentrate, Sara. I want you to think about that night. Think about walking down the hall to Kelly's room. Try to see through the fog."

  Sara did as she asked. The old woman began speaking words she didn't understand. Rough and lilting at the same time, the unknown phrases mesmerized her and her mind began to clear. "My God," she blurted. "I was drugged. Someone put a rag over my face. It smelled like chemicals."

  ''Chloroform, I'd imagine. That was the easy part. The sexual attack on you must have left them absolutely exhausted." That didn't make Sara feel any better. "What about the pleasant sexual dreams that occurred before the attack?"

  ''There were never any marks on you before the attack?"

  ''No."

  ''I expect that was Dashwood alone, simply visiting you in your sleep. You've heard of astral projection?"

  "Yes, I think so."

  ''It's simple. Most people can learn to do it. His mind communicated with yours, so in a way, it was a real encounter. A mental one that can't hurt you."

  "It's so ... invasive."

  "Yes. It's horrible. John was right when he stopped you from spending another night there. You are probably meant to be one of their sacrifices. The dreams are a way of warming you up for what is to come."

  "Warming me up? What does that mean?''

  "My dear, the sisters and their high priest don't just kill their victims. They torture them sexually and then present them to their god for sexual intercourse."

  "You mean, they rape you in its name?"

  "That's the foreplay, Sara. They conjure their demons, who then have sexual intercourse with the victims. Then the coven kills them, if the rape hasn't already."

  ''Dear God." Sara could barely comprehend what Minerva said, but after the experience with the revenant, she had to believe her. "Do they attack the boys as well?"

  "They attack whatever they wish, though I don't think they are as violent with the boys- the Lawsons, at least. You see, they've always wanted the Lawson bodies to be found, but they don't want to give any clue to their involvement in the deaths. That's why they always make it look like an accident or suicide. They're very cautious."

  Minerva cleared her throat. ''Nothing more will happen until tomorrow night, but John must get his son and Kelly away from there. Tell him he must stop them completely or they will kill other innocents. He needs to come to me first, though; he'll fail without my kind of help."

  "Who are they?" Sara asked. "John told me about the Order of Lilith and all that, but who are they? Who is Dashwood? Are they descendants of the original group?"

  Minerva didn't answer for a long time. "I didn't tell this to John, but you've seen the phantom, so you might be willing to believe me."

  "I'm ready to believe anything."

  She nodded. ''They are not descendants. They are the originals. So am I."

  Sara stared at her. "You mean you're ... ?"

  "I came here with my husband Jeremiah in 1875. John is my great-great-grandson."

  "How old are you?"

  "Older than you're guessing. I was born in England sometime in the late 1690s. The gift ran in my family, and though my mother did not possess it, my grandmother did. She apprenticed me when I was twelve, and by the time I was eighteen, I was proficient enough to be able to slow my aging to a crawl by normal standards. When I met Jeremiah, I let myself age normally until he died, then I slowed the process again. For all intents and purposes, I'm pushing seventy. If I had known then what I know now, I'd have slowed the process before Jeremiah died. This body doesn't have the strength it needs."

  Sara shook her head. "That's amazing."

  "And very hard to swallow, I know, but nevertheless, it's true. Dashwood and Lucy are older than me. Dashwood, under other names, is mentioned in histories dating back to the days of Joan of Arc, and Lucy, nearly as long. Both were active in the Church in their early days, both rejected it, and when they found one another, their evil grew a hundredfold. A few of the sisters are quite old as well. Some came here with Lucy and Dashwood."

  "Can they be killed?"

  ''Yes. They are mortal. Like me, however, they have protective magic surrounding them. Because there are many, their magic is strong."

  "How are they recruited?"

  ''A practitioner of magic recognizes his own kind. They find their members many ways, often recruiting them from among the students."

  "Those are the girls that attend the chapel services?"

  "Yes. Those who wash out are disposed of. Killed. Kelly has the gift but she won't bend to their wishes, so she will die."

  ''What about the nightflyers?"

  "As I told John, they are quite real."

  ''Are they the gargoyles?"

  ''I believe they comprise some of the figures that ornament the buildings, but I've never seen a gargoyle take flight, so I'm not sure. They are part of the evil, though, I promise you that." The clock chimed nine times. "It's time for you to talk to John."

  "Should I tell him who you really are? Who the nuns are?"

  "Only when you truly think he's ready to believe you. I think it's better to wait and let him concentrate on his son. He has to understand the danger. That's the important thing."

  Minerva saw her to the door. "Remember, go straight back to John."

  "I will."

  Sara started up the path to the truck. The day was beautiful the sunlight compensating for the chill morning breeze. She heard a screech to the west and picked up her pace, sighing with relief when John's blue pick-up came into view. When she was only a few feet from it, a bone-chilling shriek sounded overhead. She looked up and saw a huge black creature sweeping over her, its wingspan at least six feet across. Instinctively, she ducked and ran for the truck, shoving the key into the lock and opening the door as fast as she could. She leapt inside, slamming the door behind her. Breathing hard, she looked up through the windshield. The creature had disappeared.

  Seventy-six

  Mark Lawson awoke to darkness and a throbbing headache. He was shivering from the cold and had no idea where he was. The last thing he remembered was listening to his dad's message on the answering machine- and that was it. There was nothing. No, not nothing. His mind cleared and he remembered smelling chloroform. Someone had drugged him.

  ''Hello?" he said to the dank darkness.

  There was no reply.

  He realized he was sitting on damp, smooth stones and got to his feet, slightly dizzy, and leaned against the wall, also of dank, wet stone. "Hello?" he asked again.

  He felt his way around the room, jumping when he heard the squeak of a rodent. Great, just great. A rat'll bite me and I'll end up getting rabies shots, after all.

  He kept moving and finally came to a door of heavy unfinished planking that filled his hands with splinters. Gingerly he felt for a doorknob, and his fingers came to rest on a cold metal handle. He pulled with all his might, but the door wouldn't budge.

  "Help!" he yelled, pounding on the door. "Let me out of here!"

  He yelled and pounded until his hands and throat were raw, but no one came.

  Seventy-seven

  "Quite a set of lungs on the Lawson boy," Dashwood said, as he turned off the microphone switch in his office.

  Lucy's lip curled. ''I'll be glad to be rid of him. And his disgusting father, too. But first we must get Sara Hawthorne back here."

  ''Yes. That should be fairly easy. Why don't we just have the sisters take care of that?"

  "A compulsion spell?"

  "Yes. That should work fine. You and I have better things to do. Preparations to make for the black mass."

  Lucy nodded. "I'll have them do it
during the lunch hour."

  "What if Lawson comes with her?" Dashwood asked. "By now, he's discovered his son is missing. I took the backpack so that he'll think the boy ran away, and I reset the answering machine, but there's no guarantee he'll fall for it. I wish I knew who he's already talked to."

  "No matter. If he shows up today, we'll be pleasant, and if he persists, Richard, we'll cloud his mind."

  "Do you still want to kill him?"

  Lucy rubbed her rosaries thoughtfully. ''Yes, but we might want to wait a while so that no one suspects that we know he's at least spoken to Cutter about his suspicions. For now, we'll kill his son, and perhaps drive him mad with our friendly ghost. Won't that be fun, Richard, darling?"

  "I can hardly wait." He smiled. "I trust Kelly Reed is well in hand?"

  "The sisters and our novices are keeping an eye on her. She's attending classes as usual and doesn't suspect a thing."

  "Lucy, you're an amazing woman. I don't know how you do it all. Spells, torture, administration, bondage and discipline. I'm in awe." He took her hand. ''Perhaps we should focus and combine our energy again to replenish one another, since the ceremony is so close."

  "Richard," she said coyly, "you read my mind. I'll call Sister Agatha and have her gather the sisters. Then you and I can indulge ourselves." She smirked at him. "I'll meet you in your apartment in twenty minutes. Make sure you have some matches. I want to get hot."

  Seventy-eight

  They had been watching her all morning, but when the lunch hour arrived, Kelly Reed was overjoyed to see that the nuns had disappeared. Of course, Marcia Crowley and her gang of twits had their eyes on her- no doubt under the sisters' orders but they would be easy to lose.

  She went through the lunch line and sat down at the far end of a table by herself to wolf down the tasteless food: macaroni and cheese, lime Jell-O, and puke-colored canned green beans. She was hurrying because Sara Hawthorne hadn't been in class today and she wanted to find out why. Finishing her milk, she got up and turned in her tray, then walked toward the cafeteria's back door.