MOON FALL (29 page)

Sara nodded slowly. "What god do they worship?"

"Why, Satan, of course. Look at their rosaries. If you could
examine the cross on the chapel, you would find that the portion
set into the building is much shorter than the top. It's inverted.
Their 'bibles' are in Latin. If you knew what the translation
was, you'd be very surprised."

"But why do they dress like nuns if they're the opposite?"
Sara was having trouble swallowing all this.

“
As I told the sheriff, you must first be Christian to
turn
to
its opposite pole. It's the same with everything. I'm a healer
who follows the right-hand path." She chuckled. "At least, for
the most part. That puts me on the same side as a
s
incere
Christian. We try to give what we can. A sorcerer of the left
hand
path and a Satanist both believe in self-gratification above
all else. They take. It's very simple. And often tempting." The
grandfather clock chimed six. "You must go."

Sara rose. She had many questions but restricted herself to
just one more. "You talked to the sheriff about this?"

"You know him?"

"Yes. I met Mark last night, too."

"Good. You like John, don't you?"

"
I
-"

"It's in your eyes." Minerva took her hands briefly. "It'
s
good that you do, because he's slow to listen to me. And h
e
must, or he'll lose his son. Try to influence him." She walked
her to the door. "Make sure no one knows where you've been,
and please, return soon. We have much to talk about."

''I will," Sara said. She was having trouble comprehending
it all. "What's the quickest way back?"

''Through the forest." Minerva hesitated, then took her shawl
from a coat rack by the door. ''I'll go with you."

"You don't have to
-
"

''Yes, it's for the best." She pulled the door closed and locked
it. "The woods won't be safe for a while. When you come
back, drive. Then, stay on the path to my house. Make sure
Kelly understands this as well."

Sara had been afraid that Minerva Payne would slow her
down, but she could barely keep up with her. When they crossed
onto St. Gertrude's land, the old lady moved even more quickly,
speaking only once.

"Can you feel them?"

Sara glanced around the dark woods. "Feel who?"

"Them.
The dark forces, the nightflyers, the elementals.
They're watching us. It's easy to get lost here. They can confuse
you without much effort."

Sara did feel something, there was no denying it, and when
they came to the road by the abbey, she was relieved. She
turned to Minerva. "There's still time. I can get my car and
drive you home."

"Thank you, child, but no; the forest can't hurt me." She
s
miled. "It wouldn't dare."
·

Sara nodded.

''Get the amulet to Kelly as soon as you can. It should buy
her some time-
and some safety, if the demons visit her."

"Time?''

"She's sure to be their next virginal sacrifice on Halloween
night." Minerva eyed her. "And you, my dear, are in as much
peril as she, and as Mark. We must stop them or many more
lives will be lost."

"What
-
"

"Go. We'll talk later." Minerva smiled gently, then turned
and disappeared into the forest.

When John arrived at the station at eight A.M., he found
Winky Addams waiting for him in his office.

"Wink," he said, as the other man rose to shake his hand.
"How's Corey?"

"Not so good. He's at home. The doc's still got him under
sedation."

"I'm sorry to hear that. He wasn't hurt, was he?"

"Not physically. How's your boy? Corey said he was bitten
by the same thing that got Pete Parker."

"He's all right. Insisted on going to school." John sat down
at his desk.

''Really?"

"That's how he deals with things. He just sort of plunges
ahead and tries not to think about them." John, secretly proud
of his son, didn't mention the long talk they'd had last night.
He sat forward, studying his old friend. Winky's blond hair
had thinned and his waistline had broadened a little over the
years, but his face still bore the same boyishly benign look.
"What can I do for you?"

"I want to know what killed the Parker boy."

"So do I." John paused. "Some kind of bird of prey, as near
as I can guess at this point."

"What are you planning to do?" Addams's left eyelid
twitched as he spoke.

"I haven't decided yet."

"You going to go looking for the thing?"

John nodded slowly. "I thought I'd go out to St. Gertrude's
and ask around first. I'm told that these hawks, or whatever
they are, probably inhabit their land. Maybe the nuns know
where the nest is." He paused, then mused, ''Remember when
we were kids? We thought they were gargoyles."

The eye twitched harder. "From what Corey said, maybe
we were right."

"What did he say?"

''That its eyes glowed like a c
at's and the beak was long,
black, and hooked." Winky paused. "The eyes were on the
front of the face, predator-style. Think we have some sort of
overgrown mutant owls around here?''

"It's possible. I always thought it was a species of hawk,
but I guess an owl's more likely, though the description of the
beak doesn't really fit."

W
in
ky nodded. "Couldn't be a bat?"

''No. Frank Cutter said the bite on Mark's neck was definitely
from some sort of bird." He paused. "Say, Winky, you still
hunt?"

''Occasionally."

"You want to help me track the thing down, once I have a
better idea where to look?"

"We'd have to do our hunting on St. Gruesome's land?"

He nodded. "Looks that way."

"I hate that place. Maybe you should take one of your
deputies, instead."

John looked up quickly. ''Why do you hate it?"

"I don't know."
W
in
ky
rubbed his chin. "I just do
.
"

There's no time like the present.
John steeled himself. ''Wink,
what do you remember about the night my brother died?"

''What do you mean?'' he asked, his expression pained.

"Did we go to St. Gruesome's that night?"

"Oh, Christ, John, not
that
again."

John forced a chuckle. "Hey, I haven't brought it up for
over two decades."

"Seems like yesterday." Winky had a faraway look in his
eyes.

"Yeah, it does. And with all that's been happening, well,
let's just say it's been on my mind a lot lately. Gus told me
that he overheard all of us arguing about whether we'd gone
there or not."

''When was that?"

"Not long after it happened. He seems to think we went."

"No, we didn't."
W
in
ky
didn't sound too sure.

''He also thinks Doug Buckman's death was related. Remember
how he insisted we
did
go out there?"

"Yeah, vaguely, but Doug was always goofing. Your grandad's
imagining things."

''Maybe. Maybe he is." He decided not to bring up his
father's involvement. "Listen,
W
in
ky
,
do you think Corey will
be up to it if I drop by later today to ask him some questions?"

"Call first. Hopefully he'll be okay by then."
W
in
ky
stood
up. "John?"

"Yeah?"

"You ever have nightmares?"

''All the time."

W
in
ky's
eye twitched again. "Yeah,
me, too. See you
later."

John watched his old friend lumber out the door, then picked
up the phone and put in a call to Gus. There was no answer.

''Jan, you're such a bitch," Marcia Crowley sneered, flipping
her golden hair away from her face. "/
deserved first place and
you
know it."

''Girls," warned Sara. ''Take your seats. The bell rang five
minutes ago." It was the last class before lunch, and obviously,
it was going to be the worst one yet
.
Marcia Crowley and her
entire clique was present
and all, evidently, were in the throes
of
PMS.

''Marcia, Marcia,
Marcia!"
the girl with long blond hair
screeched, paying absolutely no attention to Sara. "It's always
Marcia, Marcia, Marcia!" She stomped her foot. "My essay
was better than yours.
Everybody
knows it."

"Then why didn't
you
get the ribbon?" Marybeth Tingler
taunted.

"Because Marcia is Sister Abby's favorite." Jan scowled
.
"What'd you do, Marcia, lick her-"

"Girls!" Sara thundered, with a clap of her hands. "Take
your seats!"

Grudgingly, turning their glowers on Sara, they obeyed.

The day had not gone well so far
.
By the time she'd cleaned
up and changed her clothes, Sara had barely made it to her first
class on time. The only good thing was that she hadn't run into
anyone in the halls or in the lavatory.

The first class had been made up of sullen, silent ninth
graders
and a smattering of apple polishers who were, if anything,
even more annoying than the silent ones. Next came the
eleventh graders, a mix of sullen, shy, and smart
-
alecky ones
in equal proportions. This class, the seniors, would be the worst
of the day.

She looked out at the sea of faces as Richard Dashwood's
comment came back to her-
that Marcia and her friends were
probably responsible for the razor blade on her bed. But she
wondered now, because of the phantom's appearance, if that was
true
.
The whole incident had turned into something horrifying,
something she didn't understand and didn't dare think about if
she wanted to make it through the day. "All right, girls, I'm
Ms. Hawthorne, and we'll be studying American history this
semester. Open your books to page 156."

"What about roll call?" Buffy Bullock asked coyly. The
girls surrounding her giggled.

"Thank you, Buffy," Sara said with as much dignity as she
could muster. She took roll call, then began the lesson, one
eye on the clock.

Finally the hour ended. After dismissing the class, she waited
at her desk for them to file out. She'd missed breakfast and
was going to skip lunch as well, hoping that she could somehow
get the amulet to Kelly during the hour. It wasn't so much that
she believed the charm bad power as it was a strong need of
her own to let the girl know she hadn't forgotten about her.
Suddenly she bad an idea.

''Miss Hawthorne?"

She looked up to see Marcia Crowley standing before her
desk. Her friends were arrayed behind her like back-up singers.

"What is it, Marcia?"

"We didn't see you at services yesterday." The girl was
positively purring.

"No, Marcia, I was busy."

"Weren't you invited?" Buffy asked with an air of superiority.

"I'm not a member of your faith," Sara said cautiously.

The girls exchanged knowing glances; then Blaire Fugate
spoke. "You're the only teacher who's an outsider, then."

''Just like Miss Tynan," Marybeth said, falsely solemn.

Sara rose and walked to the door, her flesh crawling with
goosebumps. "I'll see you all tomorrow," she said in what she
hoped was a calm tone. The girls filed out, their "Good-bye,
Miss Hawthorne
’s”
all in Eddie Haskell tones.

Sara closed the door after them, returned to her desk and
started putting together Kelly's schoolwork
.
She could pass the
charm to the girl in the papers if she could find something thick
enough to put it in.

Taking the amulet from her pocket, she examined it.
"Damn." There was no way she could do it without a book.
She turned in her chair and examined the bookshelf behind
her, finally chose a biography of Thomas Jefferson. It was old
and thick-perfect. She put the amulet in the middle and closed
the book,
pressing h
ard to try to squash it, but it was no use.
"Damn." In one of the desk drawers, she found an Exacto
knife.
Suppressing
a cringe at the sight of the sharp blade, she
took it out.

She flipped the pages until she was in the last quarter of the
book, surprised at what she was about to do. She'd never
defaced a book in her life, but now she began carefully cutting
an inch-wide circle through the pages, glancing up nervously
every time she heard footsteps in the
corridor
. Finally it was
done, and she wound the thong around the amulet and placed
it in the hole. Then she glued the center edges of the cut leaves
together, and the intact top and bottom pages over the hole to
secure it.

Examining her work, she was pleased: unless the nuns looked
very carefully, they'd never notice what she'd done. If they did
find the charm, she was in trouble, but the way things stood
now, she was willing to take the chance.

Sara added a report on Thomas Jefferson to the assignment
sheet, then gathered everything together and took it downstairs
and entered the infirmary.

The waiting room was deserted. ''Sister Regina?" she called.
"Sister?"

The door to the back offices opened a moment later and
Richard Dashwood stepped out. He smiled when he saw her.
"Sara, I trust you're
feeling
well?"

"Doctor. I
-
I was looking for Sister Regina. To give her
Kelly's assignments."

"Please call me Richard when we're alone, won't you?
Regina is at lunch right now," he said, taking the book and
papers from her. "I'll see that she gets them."

''I don't want to bother you with this. I can come back later."
She put her hands out to take the items back, but he only smiled.

"Nonsense. Have you had lunch yet?"

"No."

"Join me, then. I won't take no for an answer," he added,
his eyes warm and inviting. "Come along."

He led her out of the infirmary and around the corner to an
oak door. She was amused to see that in a place purportedly
lockless, he, like Mother Lucy, had a lock and used it.

"Forgive the mess," he said, ushering her inside. "Bachelor
quarters, you know."

The only thing that remotely resembled a mess was a stack
of papers on an open roll
top desk. The rest of the living room
was elegantly furnished in dark antique furniture, and there
wasn't a speck of dust visible anywhere.

She followed him past a hall door, catching sight of a bathroom
and bedroom beyond. Dashwood, at least, was not relegated
to
Spartan
quarters.

They walked through a small dining area and into a surprisingly
large kitchen with modern appliances. The doctor set the
book and papers on the counter, then opened a gleaming black
refrigerator and looked inside. ''What would you say to rare
roast beef with cucumber and horseradish on black bread?"

Her stomach rumbled before she could reply, and he laughed.
"I'll take that as a yes." He began placing the items on the
counter. ''There are knives in the drawer and plates in the
cupboard above."

"I'm sorry," she said, mortified as her stomach continued
to speak. "I didn't have breakfast this morning." She handed
him a knife, then took down red china plates and placed them
on the counter.

"First day jitters? No appetite?"

"No, I just miscalculated," she said quickly. "I went jogging
when I got up and didn't allow enough time to eat."

He worked quickly, slicing the beef paper-thin and piling it
on the thick bread. ''Would you care for a glass of wine?"

"I would, but no. It makes me sleepy."

He smiled as he carried the plates to the small kitchen table.
''I believe you, after seeing the effect the truffles seemed to
have on you. Sit down. I have sparkling water, apple juice, or
iced tea."

"Tea, please."

''Coming right up."

Sara enjoyed the meal and the company. Richard entertained
her with stories about the nuns, students' exploits, and nearly
everything else. The only subject he avoided was himself.

"Would you like a piece of pie and some coffee?" he asked
at last.

"I couldn't eat another bite, but I'd love some coffee."

Quickly, he started the coffeemaker, then turned to her. "It's
mincemeat," he said.

''What?"

He laughed. "Mincemeat pie, the sisters' specialty. What did
you think I meant?"

It was her tu
rn
to laugh. "I didn't know what you meant.
Thanks, but no thanks. Another time." She almost told him she
detested mincemeat, but decided that would be rude.
He cut himself a piece and brought it to the table, then went
back for the coffee. He poured for them, then forked a small
bite of pie into his mouth. "Mmm. There's really nothing else
like it in the world. Would you like to taste it?"

"Honestly, Richard, I just can't. I'm almost too full for the
coffee."

"May I ask you a question?"

''Of course."

''I noticed your finger is bandaged and there are some cuts
on your palm. What happened?"

"I fell when I was out jogging. It's nothing, but you know
how it is when there's a cut on your finger-you seem to hit
it on everything. So I put a Band-Aid on it." She forced a smile
and asked lightly, "Any more questions? I have to get back
my
next class is in ten minutes."

"Just one." He finished the pie. "Did you sleep well last
night?"

If only you knew.
She smiled sweetly. ''Like a baby." She
thought she saw a look of surprise, quickly hidden, but it might
have been her imagination.

Dashwood retrieved Kelly's schoolwork from the counter
and accompanied Sara out the door, locking it behind him. They
walked together as far as the infirmary; then Sara continued on
upstairs to face the rest of her first day of school. She only
hoped that the amulet would make it safely to Kelly, for the
girl's sake and her own.