MOON FALL

by Tamara Thorne

  He silenced, staring at the scantily clad Sister Elizabeth. After a moment, he bent and helped her up.

  "There's an extra habit in the closet," Lucy said tartly. "Put it on."

  Elizabeth slipped the clothing over her head, smiled at Dashwood, then turned to Lucy. ''I caught Sara Hawthorne in here. She attacked me."

  "I gathered as much. What was she doing in here?''

  "She was about to use the phone."

  ''Thank you, Elizabeth. You may go ready yourself for the ceremonies."

  When she was gone, Dashwood turned to Lucy. "Sara obviously didn't manage to make any calls. We'd be crawling with police by now if she had."

  "She's either escaping on foot and taking her time about it, or she's still here somewhere." Lucy smiled. "Maybe one of our pets got her."

  "No. I would know if that were the case. I think she's still here."

  "Well, we're running out of time," Lucy snapped as she checked her watch. "We'll need replacements for Hawthorne and Kelly Reed, just in case we don't retrieve them. Go through your records, Richard, and find us a suitable virgin. You can manage that, can't you?"

  Dried-up old bitch. "Of course I can," he said, all sugar and spice.

  ''I expect the Reed girl will show up here before the appointed hour, but even if she doesn't, we must dispose of her, preferably tonight. She's trouble."

  "Big trouble," Dashwood agreed. Kelly Reed had power, and one of the things she could do was resist his efforts at hypnosis. Even when he'd drugged her, she resisted. His astral projections had had no effect on her, and even when he and Lucy had banded together and sent the revenant to her, she had resisted admirably. She couldn't be allowed to live. "Who will replace Sara Hawthorne?"

  ''I promised that honor to Sister Bibiana, remember?"

  "You're serious?"

  "Yes, quite. I've put up with her dimples and giggles long enough. I'm going to bring Marybeth Tingler into the order to replace her. She's adequate, don't you think?"

  "Yes."

  ''Now, go find us a virgin and have Regina slip Bibi a mickey. It's nearly time to begin the opening services."

  Ninety-nine

  It was after six P.M . and Sara was still at St. Gertrude's. For the last forty minutes, she'd been hiding in the dormitory's third-floor lavatory, in a stall with an Out-of-Order sign taped to it. Her legs were cramping from hunkering on the toilet seat, but there hadn't been a single second in which she could leave.

  She'd ended up in the dorm after fleeing from the two nuns coming up the walk when she'd first left Lucy's office. Students were all over the place- nuns, too- and she'd taken a chance and let herself into Kelly and Marcia's room. Fortunately, Marcia wasn't there; unfortunately, there was no sign of Kelly no sign. Her books were gone, her toiletries, her clothing, and the bed had been stripped. Something had happened. Kelly was gone, but whether she had run away, or something worse, Sara had no idea. Were they preparing her for sacrifice? Sara could only think of rescuing her and Mark, and that meant she had to get away from the abbey and find John. She had been about to leave the room when the doorknob turned and she'd heard girlish giggling outside. She'd stepped inside Kelly's tiny closet and pulled the door closed just as Marcia Crowley and Buffy Bullock came in. She'd heard bedsprings squeak as the girls flopped down on the beds.

  ''So, old Lucy sure was pissed at you for letting Ghost Girl get away," Buffy said.

  ''What are you so happy for? You have to scrub toilets for a week, too."

  The pair went on sniping at Kelly, the other girls they hung out with, and the nuns. Sara listened from the dark closet as the minutes ticked by, relieved to know that Kelly's whereabouts were unknown, but more anxious than ever to alert John about Mark.

  "So," said Buffy, "I heard this rumor that that bitch Hawthorne ran away, too."

  "Yeah, me, too." Marcia's voice lowered. "Old Lucy thinks she's such hot stuff, but she can't even keep her hands on those two assholes. I wonder who they're gonna get instead!'

  ''Do they have a boy?" giggled Buffy.

  ''Well, I heard Sister Vagina tell Sister Lizardbeth that they got the sheriff's kid."

  ''What are they gonna do with him?"

  "Hell, I dunno. I don't know what they wanted Ghost Girl and Hawthorne for," Marcia confided. "But I have a good idea."

  "So did they really get rid of Esther Roth?" Buffy asked. ''There was a sub again today."

  ''I know, idiot. I was there." There was momentary silence. "She and that gardener, Carlos What's-his-name, they're both gone. Lucy got rid of them."

  "Why?" Buffy whispered. as Sara cringed. If something had happened to Carlos, it was her fault.

  "Who knows? I asked Sister Bibi, because lots of times, she talks, you know?"

  ''Yeah. So what'd she say?"

  ''She said they baked them into pies and fed them to the tourists."

  Both girls laughed, but all Sara could think of was the sickeningly sweet odors that sometimes wafted from the old kitchen.

  ''Maybe it's true." Buffy giggled some more.

  Marcia laughed. "Yeah. What if it is? Esther Roth ought to be happy, if it is. Finally, somebody's eating her!"

  The laughter swelled, then finally died down into a few snorts and snickers.

  ''Tonight's gonna be great," Buffy said at last.

  Bedsprings creaked. ''Did you get your robe yet?" Marcia asked.

  "Yeah. Mine's black. What color's yours?"

  "Black." Marcia replied. "Why?"

  "Marybeth got a red one."

  "She's Lucy's favorite."

  "Yeah. You think Lucy's a lez, like Roth was?"

  "No. She fucks Dashwood."

  "Does not."

  "Sure she does. You've seen them at the regular masses. They're all over each other."

  "Yeah, well."

  "You're jealous!"

  ''Am not. Let me see your robe."

  More squeaking bedsprings, then a door opening. "Here it is," Marcia announced.

  "Hey, bring it to my room and we'll try them on. I'll show you Marybeth's."

  "Okay, but we're on hot chocolate duty in fifteen minutes We gotta be there or Lucy'll really have a shit hemorrhage."

  Hot chocolate duty? Sara had had no idea what that meant. All she'd known was that the girls had left and she could escape.

  But it wasn't to be. She'd left the room, then ended up going up the stairs to avoid running into Marcia and Buffy and the rest of their gang. They were carrying steaming carafes- the hot chocolate, no doubt- and little Dixie cups. As Sara took the first step, she saw them open the first dorm door.

  They're drugging them. Sara stopped at the second-floor landing, intending to walk to the other end and go back downstairs behind Marcia and the rest. But she ended up hurrying to the third floor to avoid a nun who came up the center stairwell and turned toward her.

  The third floor was the worst place to be, since most of the sisters' rooms were located there, but at least the hallway was empty. She had barely started down the hall when a door began to open. Sara backed up, pushed the lavatory door open, and slipped into the broken toilet stall.

  A moment later, two nuns entered, then two more. They went into the shower room, but Sara stayed put because more nuns arrived As they entered, others finished and came out to dry themselves. Sara watched through the crack between the door and the stall, shocked to see them all nude. A large makeup bag sat on the counter in front of a wide mirror, and one by one they used it, each applying a whore's worth of blush, eye shadow, mascara, and crimson lipstick, before rubbing red rouge into their nipples and genitals.

  When they were done, they walked into the locker area and reappeared wearing cowled robes of shimmery black satin with red trim.

  The lavatory emptied as a charley horse knotted Sara's leg. She bit her lip against the pain and climbed off the toilet seat, willing the muscle to loosen. Finally it did. She peered out the crack. saw no one, heard nothing except dripping showers, then let herself out of t
he stall and tiptoed to the locker area. She started looking through the lockers and finally found a robe. She shucked off the habit and slipped the satin gown on, pulling the cowl down to her eyes and close around her cheekbones.

  The corridor was empty as Sara left the bathroom. She walked swiftly to the far end of the building and down the stairs to the first floor. Outside, she moved across the back of the school building and around the corner and ran into a cluster of robed figures. She stayed where she was, and a few seconds later, Mother Lucy's voice broke the silence. ''Our priest and our missing sisters and acolytes will join us later. They are preparing our gifts to our lord and master. We shall enter the chapel now and begin our prayers. Follow me."

  There were perhaps twenty women in all, and Sara fell into line with them. They began a minor-keyed chant and followed Lucy into the chapel.

  It was beautiful, Sara thought, grotesque and beautiful at the same time. The entire chapel was alight with black tapers. As they all filed into the front pews, Sara saw the shining black altar, and behind it, a crimson drape. She barely suppressed a cry of surprise as she saw black gargoyles lining the sides of the church, their eyes glittering red. She almost thought they were alive, but they didn't move, and she told herself the eyes were red glass or stone and merely reflected the candlelight.

  The nuns and students continued to chant as they sat down, and Lucy stepped onto the chancel and pulled a cord beside the red drapes. Sara stifled a gasp as an inverted black cross appeared. The Mother Superior then went to the altar and began singing a prayer in counterpoint to the chanting. It was beautiful, Sara thought again, in a very grotesque way.

  One Hundred

  "The Halloween Haunt," Paul Pricket said as John pulled the passenger side door of the priest's green Honda Civic closed "I used to love it."

  "Yeah." John hadn't wanted to use Paul's car, but he didn't want to take the cruiser to the abbey- that might have unwanted repercussions- and his own mini-truck was still missing. Plus, Paul had insisted on driving, even pointing out that the dark green vehicle would be easily hidden among the trees.

  They had visited the Haunt in the hope that Mark had shown up there, on the slim chance that he had taken off on some impetuous adventure of his own. No matter what, he wouldn't miss that. But Caspar hadn't seen him, nor had Corey Addams, who was manning the boys' section of the Haunted Barn with the help of a couple kids John vaguely recognized.

  With Paul's help, he had threaded through the Haunt, asking virtually every partygoer if he'd seen his son, but the answer was always no. Now, as they pulled out of Parker's Mills' parking lot, everything caught up with him. The sounds of the festivities behind them, the smell of smoke from fireplaces all over town, kids in costumes roaming the sidewalks, grinning jack-o'-lanterns on steps and porch rails, made him feel infinitely sad. He'd never celebrated the night with Mark, had always relied on Gus. Since his brother's death, John had thought he hated Halloween, but that wasn't true; he was afraid of it, and now both his grandfather and his son were gone.

  "We'll find him, John," Paul said, catching his thoughts.

  "I hope you're right."

  "Don't lose faith, now. These people have been killing your family members- and God knows how many others- for a century. They undoubtedly killed your grandfather and your father and plan to kill your son. They're devils. We saw proof of that today. And if Minerva Payne says you're the one who's going to stop it, then ... "Paul's voice trailed off.

  "I'm surprised you're so willing to believe."

  Paul shrugged. "It's my job. There's Apple Heaven."

  ''The turn-off for the abbey is right behind it."

  ''I remember." Paul turned and drove through the parking lot, coming to a halt before the chain closing the private road. ''Now what?"

  "Now I start breaking the law. Flip the trunk release." John bopped out of the car and opened the long red toolbox he'd placed there while they were at the house. He withdrew a pair of bolt-cutters, sliced the chain, and pulled it loose.

  "Let's go," he said, after he'd shut the trunk and climbed back in the car ... Better douse your lights."

  Paul did. ''This trip is going to be a slow one. I can hardly see a thing."

  "Wait'll we hit the forest," John said. He could see only Paul's profile in the greenish dash lights.

  Paul glanced at him. ''We used flashlights back then."

  "If we hadn't, maybe they wouldn't have caught us. We can't take any chances this time."

  "Okay."

  They drove through the orchards by the faint light of the low harvest moon, but when the apple trees gave way to pine and juniper, Paul had to slow to a crawl. "I'm driving blind here, John."

  He nodded and pulled a penlight from the pocket of his black shirt. "It'll be faster to walk the rest of the way. Stop and let me out. I'll find a place off-road to hide the car."

  "If you say so."

  John got out and walked a few yards, then came to a place where the car could be pulled safely among the trees. He indicated the spot and Paul pulled in.

  John was dressed all in black, Paul the same, except for his clerical collar and the navy knapsack slung over his shoulder. It contained his priestly tools, vestments, a crucifix, and several flasks of holy water. John's tools, a pistol in a shoulder holster, a hunting knife, skeleton keys, and a smoke bomb that Mark had concocted. John had taken it for safekeeping, promising the boy that at the right time and place, they would set it off together. Together. He hoped he could keep his promise.

  ''Ready?" Paul asked.

  "Let's do it," John said, as they stepped onto the road to

  St. Gertrude's.

  One hundred-one

  As Minerva had hoped, the nightflyers stopped circling her house after darkfall, but they left considerably later than she had expected. The helpless waiting and wondering had been nearly unbearable. Alternately, she'd spent the minutes and hours of the day anxious or angry at herself for letting the passage of years steal her strength.

  She tried to hide her emotions from Kelly and had spent the time casting spells of protection on everyone who might need them.

  Kelly had continued to argue about staying behind tonight, and Minerva had had to be quite stem with her before she was convinced she would be more helpful if she stayed at the cottage and kept working the protection spells. Now, as Minerva walked alone through Witch Forest, knowing it so well that she needed no light, she had no idea whether or not she was right in leaving the girl behind. She was brave, cunning, and knowledgeable about the abbey, but she was also undisciplined and impetuous, and, most important, the nuns had marked her for sacrifice.

  She had left the rifle behind with Kelly after making sure she could handle the weapon, taking with her only a century old hunting knife and her amulet. To the north she could hear the thunder of the Falls, and soon she came to the stream that divided the two forests.

  She stared into the ominous darkness across the water. There were no forest sounds tonight, no animals, no insects, not so much as the soft sigh of a breeze or the rustle of leaves. Minerva waded into the water, feeling its icy chill soak through her shoes. Her bones would ache in the morning.

  But that chill was nothing compared to the one she felt as she stepped onto St. Gertrude's property. It was cursed land. When she had first come here, the local Indians had spoken of it only in hushed tones. It was a place to be avoided, and their name for it translated into ''the forsaken land." They had told her their own legends, which dated back many centuries, and had told her as well of the monks who had built the abbey. They had been plagued with death and disaster from the time they had first broken ground, and as the years had passed, things had grown worse, the monks eventually indulging in all forms of depravity, from bestiality to cannibalism.

  Minerva walked into the murky wood, reciting old Celtic spells to keep her fear at bay. She had rarely been in these woods and now had to keep her mind clear to find her way through the dark. When she was a girl, her
grandmother taught her how to travel without her eyes, using her senses of hearing, smell, and space and direction, as well as sheer instinct. She had learned to run through forests in the dark without tripping over roots or plowing into tree trunks. As she called on these skills now, they came back in full force, and she faltered only if she allowed her mind to fall into fear.

  Minerva traveled on, ignoring the feeling that she was being watched, ignoring the unnatural silence. Time passed and she knew she was nearing the abbey, but she felt as if she were making almost no progress.

  It was a trick of the sisters', a protection spell of their own, meant to keep away the curious on this night. Minerva redoubled her concentration and continued on, but the nuns' magic had played hell with her sense of direction, and eventually she realized she was hopelessly turned around.

  Not hopelessly, she corrected. Closing her eyes, she concentrated, taking herself beyond the physical senses, into a deeper place. She meditated, pushing away the sisters' cobwebs, then finally opened her eyes and set out once more.

  One hundred-two

  ''Where the hell is the abbey?" John muttered. It was past nine o'clock, well past, and he and Paul should have arrived at St. Gertrude's hours ago.

  "I don't know how we lost the road," Paul said.

  "God damn it, we were walking on it," John spat. "How the hell could we lose it?"

  "I'm sorry, John, I just don't know."

  "No, I'm sorry, Paul. I didn't mean to jump all over you. Time's wasting and I'm worried. Maybe you could ask your boss for a little help or something?"

  "I've been asking," Paul said softly. "I trust he'II send some soon."

  They walked on in silence, feeling their way among the trees, trying to find the road in the dark. John's penlight had died at least an hour before, and his hope was dying now as well. He felt like a rat in a maze.

  "John?"