Under a Ghostly Moon (Jerry Moon Supernatural Thrillers Book 1)

by William Moore

  Moon changed track. "What was that your friend on the door said about having some trouble?"

  "It’s just that we tend to have the occasional bit of bother from people who don't like anyone ‘different’ and think a bit of Goth bashing's essential for a good night's fun." She drew closer and Moon caught her making a furtive glance in the direction of the beautiful trio he had noticed earlier, who were chatting with Coffin Shaker's drummer. "But things have got very odd recently; a few regulars have dropped out of sight without telling anyone where they've gone."

  "So you're saying people have just disappeared? How many?"

  "Three, so far," replied Sonia, "and, you know it's funny, but now I think of it they all seem to have stopped coming along after one of these band nights… But, I mean, shit, people just move on, you know. Maybe they just got jobs elsewhere or went to college or sometimes they 'seen the light' and get 'born again'. That happens occasionally – there are always a few young kids in any ‘fringe’ scene who’re looking for answers where they can find them - and they tend to be warned off Goth by whatever church they've joined after that."

  "'Born again'?" Moon understood what the term meant but he had never heard it used as if it were some kind of natural hazard before now.

  "Yeah, Bristol's crawling with Fundamentalist Christians of one flavour or another and they tend to single out Goths. You know, we're obviously 'lost' souls. Of course most of us are revelling in the fact but they occasionally catch someone in a lonely or vulnerable moment. Normally, at least a close friend or their partner knows what's happened and tells everyone. Not with these guys though."

  "Three people have gone missing and no-one's told the cops?"

  "Yeah, well, it's not like we know something bad's happened to them and all three of them weren’t local. You know, moved here for work, lived in bedsits, had no family

  Here. For all we know they could all have given up on Bristol and gone home."

  "Still, it's very odd. Someone should tell the police."

  Sonia shook her head, her dark curls dancing prettily. "We're generally not too hot on the police. They don't like people with alternative lifestyles and we're nearly as alternative as you can get. If one of us called in at the station and told them some crazy tale about Goths going missing, well, let's say I don't think they'd be very sympathetic and leave it at that."

  Moon remembered the odd glance she had aimed at the trio on the dance floor. "Do you think anyone here knows more than they're telling?" he asked watching her face closely.

  Again, she made that tiny glance. "No... Well, rumours that's all."

  "Care to let me in on them."

  "Not really, crazy stuff, that's all. Stuff I wouldn't bother telling to a 'mundane'."

  "'Mundane', eh?" If only you knew, he thought. But instead he quipped: "I doubt the guys in A&E would agree with you!"

  "A&E?" Sonia looked puzzled behind her bat's wing eye shadow.

  "Oh, yeah, I didn't tell you. I only write articles part-time. Mainly I work as a nurse."

  "Cool, do you get to see lots of - like, dismemberments and stuff?" For once Sonia's teeth did look menacing, wrapped up in a bloodthirsty smile. It seemed Goths did occasionally live up to their morbid stereotype.

  The night rolled on smoothly, powered by the beat of the bands. Sonia introduced Moon to some of her crowd and the alcohol helped to break the ice. Glad that he had hidden his Dictaphone in his pocket before leaving his flat, Moon managed to gather plenty of information for his article. He doubted that he'd remember half of it by morning if he hadn’t recorded it because he was having far too much fun.

  At ten o'clock Stokers Kiss started their hour long set with a lively comic song called 'Carpe Jugulum', inspired by the Terry Pratchett book of the same name. It was fun to listen to but something about the music struck Moon as a bit odd. He gave Sonia a puzzled look. "This is Country and Western, isn't it?"

  Sonia laughed, prettily despite her fangs. "Yeah, but don't try to tell them. They get really upset if you suggest that it's anything other than Goth."

  Otherwise, the band was extremely high-quality and Moon decided to give them a special mention in his article. By the time they were performing their last set number, 'Dark Caress', a sinisterly erotic song about vampiric love, Moon was dancingvery close and very sexy with Sonia. I'm in with a chance here, he thought, as she beckoned him into a shadowy corner for a passionate, if rather toothy, snog. Moon remembered a joke he had heard or read somewhere about the dangers of French kissing vampires. Sonia's fangs may only be made plastic but he was slightly worried that he was in danger of losing his tongue.

  The band finished with a double encore of their more rocky numbers, but by then, Moon was too engrossed with Sonia to do more than vaguely register that they were quite good. Then, during the sudden, shocking quiet of 'drinking up time', Sonia looked up at him shyly and asked, "Would you like to come back to my place?" Moon made a quick mental check of the expiry date of the condoms stored hopefully in his wallet for just such an opportunity, then joyfully agreed.

  Chapter 4

  The outside air was mercifully cool and smoke free after the heat and fug in the pub. Moon stood as patiently as possible with his arms around Sonia while she and Avril said goodbye to almost everyone who had come to the gig. Avril, it turned out, was going out with the bassist of Unquiet Grave, one of the bands that had played during the first half of the programme, before Moon had arrived. He continued to be impressed by the family- like atmosphere between these people. It was almost as if becoming a Goth was like joining a different race – or perhaps ‘tribe’ was a better description - which had its own identifying features and customs.

  The parade of goodbyes finally drew to an end and they left the courtyard to board the cab that Avril had phoned for earlier. As they piled into the taxi, Moon glanced back at the pub and with a start glimpsed a pale figure that beckoned to him from the darkness of a nearby alley, which ran behind the main building. He knew immediately that this was a spirit; its deathly pale face was framed by the shadowy ghost of long black hair and a dark red stain glistened wetly on the right side of its neck. The dark hollows of its eyes seemed to bore into Moon, accusing him of indifference, as he climbed guiltily into the cab.

  Avril and Sonia shared a flat in Bristol's Hotwells area, not far from the Ebenezer Chapel and just up the road from where Isambard Kingdom Brunel's famous steam ship, the Great Western was moored on permanent display across the harbour. It was a part of Bristol Moon didn't visit often as the only attractions were the docks, a large Army & Navy store and a couple of fairly mediocre pubs. The taxi pulled into an Edwardian terrace and the Afro-Caribbean driver, his head made huge by the dreadlocks packed into his red, yellow and green woollen hat, asked for eleven pounds fare. Feeling magnanimous, Moon paid for all of them. The girl's flat was in a semi-detached Edwardian house about a hundred yards uphill from the main road. Most of Bristol is either up or downhill from somewhere because it was built around the Avon Gorge. However, the roads around the Hotwells area run down the sides of the Gorge itself and are very steep, so Moon was feeling quite winded by the time they reached the front door.

  "I hope you're up for this, Lover!" whispered Sonia, frowning at his shortness of breath.

  "Oh, yes! I'll be fine. I'm just not used to consorting with cliff-dwellers."

  Sonia gave a short laugh. "I suppose it is pretty steep. You just get used to it."

  The walls of the flat were painted a standard landlord's magnolia but Sonia and Avril had done their best to hide it, using a general colour scheme of purple and black with a heavy emphasis on the macabre. In the living-room a cobweb made from black headed drawing pins joined together with black thread took up the entire top left corner of the hall-side wall, while on the opposite side of the room a modest collection of resin and pottery skulls grinned from above the fire-mantle. In the midst of these, Moon was surprised to see a small silver trophy in the shape of a woman wearing a marti
al arts outfit performing a waist-level kick. He decided to ask Sonia about this some time if he ever had the chance. A large framed poster depicting the Middle-Eastern demon/goddess Lilith dominated the back wall above the sofa. Her dark wings were outspread in a gesture of triumph and she embraced a poison-green winged serpent, which held a black rose in its gleaming jaws. The shabbiness of the ancient sofa was mostly hidden by a black and purple Celtic knot work throw. Longhaired fluffy black cushions lurked near the arms of the sofa and on the two similarly accoutred chairs, like small venomous beasts waiting to pounce.

  "You girls really take this Goth stuff seriously, don't you?" commented Moon, taking off his jacket and throwing it over the arm of one of the dubious chairs then sitting firmly on top of one of the sofa predators.

  Avril smiled. "If you're going to follow a fantasy why not take it all the way? Coffee?"

  "Yes please; white, no sugar." As Avril left the room, he smiled at Sonia, who had sat down beside him, and she smiled back a little nervously snuggling into the crook of his arm. "You okay?" he asked, kissing her cheek.

  "Yeah, I suppose. It's just that I hate this part. You seem like a nice guy, Jerry. You're not going to turn out to be another common-or-garden bastard are you?"

  Moon hesitated; he'd assumed Sonia was, like most of her contemporaries, the kind of girl who treated sex as a bit of fun. Now he realised there might be a future to tonight and, with a bit of mild reservation, he realised he was cool with that. She was a nice lass in her own peculiar way and it was easy to find potential partners in his line of work. "I'm not the love-'em-and-leave-'em sort, if that's what you mean," he replied reassuringly. "We can take it slowly if you like."

  She kissed him deeply, tickling the stud in his tongue with the tip of her own. "Oh, I don't see why we can't take it slowly and have our fun at the same time, eh, Jerry?" That hungry gleam had returned to her eyes and the false fangs suddenly made her look very sexy. He gave a short, throaty laugh and returned her kiss with interest. Sonia rose seductively from the sofa, drawing Moon up with her. "Avril, don't bother making coffee for Jerry and me!" she called over her shoulder as she led him towards the stairs. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

  Avril poked her face round the corner of the kitchen door. “Okay, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she said with a wicked grin.

  Sonia giggled. “You’re giving us a lot of leeway then!”

  Avril rolled her eyes and shook her head before returning to the kitchen. “My handcuffs are on the dresser if you want to borrow them,” was her parting shot.

  Sonia laughed at the look of sheer panic on Moon’s face. “It’s okay, Jerry, BDSM is Avril’s gig, not mine.” Moon tried not to sigh with relief as they entered her room.

  Sonia's bedroom continued the Goth theme with a vengeance. The bed was bordered with a frill of black lace and a blood red duvet cover with matching pillows, similarly trimmed with black lace, complemented the black bottom sheet. Above the bed hung a black, spider’s web gauze canopy, trimmed with red lace, which gave the room a slightly Middle-Eastern feel. The walls were the same uniform magnolia as downstairs but they were hung with framed posters, all of which had a common gothic romantic theme. The ghastly, second hand landlord's furniture had been transformed by using a combination of red and black satin throws and drapes, plus a plethora of gothic style ornaments. Gargoyles, dragons and skeletons covered most of the available surfaces in the form of candlesticks, boxes and goblets. A glass-topped drinks table with a huge, black dragon for a pedestal had pride of place in one corner of the room. Its top arranged with various ornaments and candlesticks so that it resembled an altar.

  "Interesting room," Moon commented noncommittally, as he regarded his own pale reflection in a Gothic arch style mirror. He looked huge-eyed and imaginary in the reddish light that was cast by the room's lantern-like ornamental lamp. In contrast the gargoyle at the top of the arch looked disturbingly real, its coal black eyes glittering evilly above a spike-toothed grin.

  "Yes, I've put a lot of work into it," replied Sonia, removing silver bat-shaped clips from her hair.

  Moon perused her heavily-laden bookshelf. The Ann Rice novels he recognised but some of the other authors were less familiar. Sonia seemed to be heavily into gothic horror with a smattering of lighter fantasy. He heard her moving behind him.

  "Jerry…" she whispered and he turned to find her sitting on the bed wearing nothing but her basque, her loose hair cascading around her to mid-waist level.

  Silently, he moved to sit beside her, touching her face gently with his fingers. He kissed her deeply on her mouth before slowly moving his lips to her neck and breasts. It was here he began to notice a bit of a problem. Her breasts, although small, were quite beautiful, but she had silver rings through both nipples, which clashed against his teeth and made them less fun to nibble than the unadorned variety. Moon didn't know if it was a hangover from being breast fed or that he'd been weaned too late from using a dummy, but there was a strong oral side to his libido and it found unexpected lumps of metal a bit of a turn-off. With a small sigh, he switched from tongue to fingers and started to kiss the unmodified flesh of her breasts themselves. Then Sonia's deft fingers undid the front of his trousers and slid underneath to gently caress the growing firmness they found there.

  A few frantic manoeuvres later and they were both naked on top of the bed with Moon tracing his tongue down between her breasts. He slowly licked his way over the white mound of her stomach and her spider shaped navel ornament and down further. He noticed with mild humour that she was really a redhead. Then… bugger! Another ruddy piercing! A tiny silver skull with red amethysts for eyes grinned out from among a tangle of tight little auburn curls.

  "Do you like my little skull?" asked Sonia, grinning down at him. "I got it for my twenty-fifth."

  "Quite… charming," replied Moon, cursing inwardly. The little bleeder was blocking his favourite bit.

  With a mental shrug, Moon tried a few tentative tongue strokes. Great! The skull ring didn't get in the way too much and soon there was a tumult of appreciative sighs from Sonia as he teased and caressed her with his lips and tongue, building her up to a crescendo of joy. Then suddenly there was a cry of: "Ouch!" That didn't sound good. He stopped then and tried to remove his tongue from Sonia’s tender parts - "Ow! Ooh! Jerry, what the fuck are you doing down there? It hurts!"

  The awful truth dawned on Moon. "I'the god by thongue sthtud sthtuck id you're ickle sthkull."

  "You what? Well, unstick it then. Ouch! No, don't move."

  "I think wid a bith off jiggling..." said Moon, trying to extricate himself with his fingers.

  "Owww! No! And don't try to talk either, it's agony." Sonia reached carefully for her mobile phone, which sat in a demon-shaped phone cradle on the bedside table. "I

  think we’re going to have to call an ambulance."

  "No!" Moon panicked. "I workth there!"

  "Ouch! Shit!” Sonia whacked him around the head with her free hand. “I said don't talk. I'm calling an ambulance and that's that."

  At one twenty a.m. Moon and Sonia were wheeled into a cubicle in Accident and Emergency on a single trolley. Moon, who had been hidden under a green cellular blanket in an attempt to preserve Sonia's dignity, suddenly found himself laid bare, blinking under the cubicle's strip lighting and gazing up into the sadistically grinning face of Gary Wong. The Chinese doctor chuckled evilly and wielded a pair of surgical wire cutters. "Hello, Jerry," he sniggered. "My, have you been a naughty boy!" This brought a chorus of laughs from three unnecessary nurses who had also crowded into the cubicle to join in the fun.

  "Geth sthtuffed, Wong!" lisped Moon, eliciting a pained scream and a clip round the ear from Sonia.

  "Just get it over with!" said Sonia through gritted teeth. "I want to get as far away from this moron as possible."

  Fifteen minutes later Moon was dressing himself in a separate cubicle and wondering what the ambulance crew had done with his other s
hoe when Wong sidled through the curtain waving a transparent sample container in front of him then sticking it under Moon's nose. "You must have been going some, Jerry, my son." He unscrewed the lid, grasped Moon's hand, and tipped the container's contents into his palm. Moon gazed miserably at his tongue stud and Sonia's skull ring, the latter now cut open and bent out of shape, but he could still make out the point where it had somehow twisted and locked onto the other. "Adds a whole new dimension to safe sex, doesn't it?" Wong was obviously determined to milk this for all it was worth.

  "I'm not in the mood, Gary," Moon replied dangerously.

  "No?" replied Wong. "But you obviously were earlier. Where on earth did you find 'Vampirella', the local cemetery?"

  "Not that it's any of your business, but I was researching an article for Venue."

  "What into, necrophilia?" Wong laughed.

  "Goth culture if you must know. And Sonia happens to be a very nice girl, despite her taste in fashion."

  "Well, sorry to pour cold water on it, like. But I really think you've spoiled your chances there, Kidda."

  Moon sighed. "You're probably right." He really must try to patch things up with Sonia somehow. They'd been doing all right up until the point where everything had gone pear shaped. And - face it - it wasn't very easy to meet potential partners as a nurse. True, he met some lovely female nurses while working, but it's pretty hard to find the right moment to approach someone romantically when your most intimate encounters usually involve a distressed patient and soiled bed- linen. At twenty-seven Moon was beginning to worry about his future.

  He found Sonia crying in the next cubicle with Avril trying to comfort her. Her eyes narrowed as he peered around the curtain. "Sorry, Love..." he began lamely.

  "'Sorry' doesn't cover it. Not by a long straw!" Sonia replied petulantly. "I'm so bloody sore I probably won't be able to sit down for a month. What the hell were you thinking? You know you have to be careful with piercings."