MOON FALL (38 page)

"So, Mother Lucy, you don't know anything about these
birds?"

Lucy smiled at John, as serene as the Virgin. ''No. We hear
them, of course, but we never see them. They've never given
us any trouble."

"I was told that they nest in St Gertrude's forest."

"I wouldn't know. I always thought they came from Witch
Forest. Wasn't that child killed by the Falls?" she asked
smoothly.

"Yes," he replied, just as smoothly. "Just above where
Lenore Tynan died."

''Then perhaps you should be looking around there."

"Perhaps. If you don't mind, I'd like to ask some of your
staff about them."
·

''Of course."

''Where would I find your gardeners?"

She looked pointedly at the wall clock. "Getting ready to
go home for the day, I'd imagine. Go out to the garage
-
the
old stables across the lawn. You'll probably find some of them
there. But you'd better hurry if you want to catch them."

''Thanks."

John followed her directions and found the long building.
Sara had mentioned that she had a friend, a groundskeeper,
who'd been at the abbey when she was a child. Later, she'd
dropped the name "Carlos," and that was who he wanted to
talk to. First, to ask about the nightflyers, then for the real
reason: to find out where to find Sara.

The garage doors were swung wide open, and he heard men's
voices speaking Spanish as he entered. He spotted them halfway
down the long building and strode swiftly toward them, spotting
Sara's white Sentra along the way. It gave him a little jolt to
know with certainty that she was here somewhere.

''Excuse me," he said to the men, who had turned and now
watched him suspiciously. Several backed into the shadows,
and he realized that they were probably illegal immigrants.
He smiled. "I'm not here to arrest anyone, don't worry."
They continued to eye him dubiously, but one man, square
shouldered
and with a thick head of salt-and-pepper hair,
stepped forward. ''What can we do for you, sir?"

John stuck out his hand. ''I'm John Lawson, sheriff of Moonfall.
And you are?"

"Carlos Montoya. Chief groundskeeper." He shook John's
hand with a firm dry grip.

Bingo.
"Can you spare a few minutes, Mr. Montoya?"

"Sure. My men are just getting ready to go home. Do you
want to talk to them as well?"

"No, no. I realize this is an inconvenient time. I'm sure you
can answer my questions, Mr. Montoya. If I have any for your
men, I'll come back."

Montoya nodded, then spoke in Spanish, and watched his
crew finish putting the equipment away and quickly leave. Very
quickly. ''They like to be out of here before dark, Sheriff.
They're superstitious," he said, as the last one left the building.

''Are they afraid of the nightfl
yers?"

''
Nightflyers
?" Carlos asked.

"Yes. The birds. One killed a little boy recently."

"Yes, they fear them." Carlos peered around the garage in
one direction, then the other. "They fear many things."

"Do you want to go somewhere else to talk?" Montoya's
nervousness seeped into John, and he wondered if anyone was
lurking in the shadows, listening.

''Let's go outside." Carlos led him out the far end of the
building, away from the chapel. He shut the small door behind
him. ''What do you want to talk about, Sheriff?"

"Have you worked here a long time?"

''Twenty years."

"Have you ever seen one of those birds?"

"Yes. They're demons." He whispered the words, glancing
around nervously.

"Do you know what they are? One of them bit my son, and
the doctor is concerned about rabies," he added, thinking that
might get Montoya to speak more freely.

"They are demons. They are servants of the devil, but that's
all I know."

"When did you see one?"

''One night many years ago, when I was late leaving. It flew
at me as I went to my car. I swear, it sounded like it was
laughing at me." He paused. ''I know how ridiculous that
sounds. Recently, I saw one land among the gargoyles on the
chapel. My men saw it, too, which is why they were so eager
to leave. It wasn't even dark yet. No darker than it is now."

"Mr. Montoya, I believe you. And I want to ask you a
question
you
might find ridiculous."

"Yes?"

''Have you ever noticed any of the gargoyles missing?"

''You mean ...
?"

"Is it possible that the thing you saw flying
is
a gargoyle?
That maybe a few of them aren't really made of stone?"

Montoya crossed himself, the fear in his eyes unmistakable.
''They breed," he said, so softly John could barely hear him.
''There are many more now than when I first came here."

''I was told that Sister Elizabeth sculpts them as memorials
to sisters who have died."

"That's what they say, but I don't think so. The nuns, they
look the same as they did when I first came here. They don't
age. They don't die, except by accident. And when they do,
more gargoyles appear."

"What kind of accidents? Have many died?"

Montoya peered around in the growin
g
darkness. ''Yes,
many. New ones, usually, ones that don't fit in. They have
accidents."

"You mean, they're murdered?"

''Please, speak softly, Sheriff. There are ears ev
e
rywhere."

He nodded. "Can you answer the question? Wer
e
they murdered?"

"I didn't say it, you did. Many die here, many disappear."

"Besides the nuns?"

"Students run away, they
s
ay. I'm
s
ure a few do. And my
men sometimes leave without a word. Th
e
y ju
s
t disappear, and
usually, it is out of character for them."

"What do you think happens to them?"

"I don't know. I try not to think of such things. It's dangerous.
I should go now."

"Wait. There's something else."

"What?"

"Are you Sara Hawthorne's friend?"

Carlos's eyes opened wide, then slitted. "I know her. She
used to be a student here."

The man tried to keep a neutral expression, but John could
read his terror. ''I'm concerned about her safety," he told Montoya.
"She's a friend of mine. I expected to see her several
days ago, but she never showed up."

"She is here. Her car is in there." He nodded toward the
garage.

''Can you tell me how to find her? I have to talk to her."

"It might be trouble if they see you with her."

"Where's her room?"

"On the third floor of the dormitory building. But you can't
go in. They'll stop you." He hesitated. "Do you want to see
her tonight? Now?"

John nodded.

"I'll get her. I can say I need her to move her car. Go back
inside the garage and wait."

"Thank you. I won't forget this."

John turned and entered the darkened building, leaving the
door open. He watched Carlos Montoya trot across the lawn
and wondered how the man lived with all the fear inside him.

Sara sat alone in her room, picking at a plate of cheese and
crackers and fruit that she'd forced herself to prepare. She
wasn't hungry, hadn't been since the night she'd been raped.
She'd passed the time in a daze, teaching her classes, then
returning to her room, not wanting to be around anybody.

She looked at the little bottle of Valium sitting on the table
by a can of Pepsi. Richard had given them to her, and she knew
she
was abusing them, but didn't really care.
That's because
you're abusing them, idiot!
She reached for the bottle, then
drew her hand back. She had to stop relying on them.

She remembered the rape in every detail, right down to the
fact that it was ridiculous. She even remembered running from
her room to get Kelly but then her memory clouded. Richard
said she'd evidently fainted. One of the sisters had found her
lying in the hall and taken her to the infirmary.

When she woke up, she was in one of the five beds that
comprised the tiny hospital ward. Richard sat beside her, holding
her hand. He told her how they'd found her and that he'd
examined her and tended to her wounds. He confirmed that
she'd been raped, but no real damage had been done. He had,
he said, given her something to help her relax.

When he'd asked her for the identity of her attacker, she'd
told him it was a ghost. She'd just said it outright, and he'd
squeezed her hand and told her she was in shock. It could only
be one of a few people, assuming her attacker was male: Basil
-
Bob
Boullan
, or one of the gardeners. She said it wasn't any
of them. He told her there was no evidence of semen, so it
might have been one or more of the girls, though he personally
thought that the physical education teacher, Esther Roth, who
was also her neighbor, was t
he most likely culprit. Roth, h
e
told her, had an extensive collection of marital aids and a
borderline personality. Lenore Tynan had complained to the
Mother Superior about advances she'd made toward her. Sara
hadn't argued. What was the point?

The next morning, Richard told her that Esther Roth had
confessed, and that the police had taken her away. She would
have no more problems. And that was the end of it, except for
the bottle of Valium that had helped her keep from thinking
about anything.

Every time a pill wore off, as one was doing now, she started
to relive the horror, the sheer terror and humiliation. What had
happened? She knew it wasn't Esther Roth who'd attacked her,
and she couldn't shake the notion that it had something to do
with Richard Dashwood. But what? The thing that had attacked
her was the same thing that had led her to the Falls, that had
frightened her in the shower. Probably the same thing that had
come after Kelly. Was it a revenant, as Kelly thought? It was
just all too much. Sara reached for the bottle, unscrewed the
lid, and shook a pill into her hand.

Someone rapped sharply on the door. Startled, Sara's hand
shook, hitting the bottle, sending the Valiums rolling everywhere.
"Damn."

"Miss Hawthorne?"

She recognized Sister Bibi's voice. ''Coming." She looked
at the pill in her hand and let it drop with the rest, then went
to the door and bent to remove the rubber wedge. Then she
saw she hadn't even bothered to use it.
What the hell's wrong
with me?

She opened the door a few inches and peered out. "Yes?"

"Carlos is downstairs. He needs you to move your car. It's
blocking something."

She nodded. "Tell him I'll be right down."

Closing the door, she slipped off her robe, trying not to look
at the ugly bruises on her legs as she pulled on a pair of jeans
and her penny loafers. She gingerly slipped on a bulky V-neck
sweater that would hide her lack of a bra
-
her bitten breast
was still inflamed and anything tight was sheer torture. She
hunted for her keys, finally found them in her coat pocket, then
left her room. Walking down the hall, she tried to clear her
mind, tried to concentrate, and by the time she met Carlos at
the entry, she felt like some of the cobwebs had been swept
away.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Sara," Carlos said as they walked
across the lawn. "I wouldn't if it wasn't important."

"I'm glad you bothered me, Carlos. You kept me from doing
s
omething stupid."

He glanced sideways at her but said nothing
.

"Why are you here so late?" she asked as they entered the
garage.

"Because of me," came a voice from the darkness.

"John!"

He stepped out of the shadows, and she fell into his arms.
"John! I'm so glad to see you!"

"Sara, are you all right?"

She nodded, her head tucked into his shoulder
.
His arms
tightened around her, and she couldn't suppress a cry as her
sore breast was crushed against his chest.

He let go of her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said, trying not to cry. The emotions she'd
denied all week were right on the surface, threatening to break
free
.

"I'm going to go home now," Carlos said.

She'd forgotten about him. "Carlos, thank you," she managed.

''My pleasure. See you later."

Th
ey heard a motorcycle start then
hum away. "Come on,"
John said. "Let's get out of here."

"There's no place else to talk."

"I mean, let's leave the abbey. My car's by the gate. I'll
bring you back later."

She knew that if she left with him, he'd see her in brighter
light. The sweater, though bulky, was low-cut and he'd spot
the bruises near her neck.
But he already knows. He arrested
Esther Roth.
''Okay."

"Have you eaten?"

''Not lately," she said
.
He put his arm around her waist and
she moved away. "I don't want the girls to see us," she told
him
.
The truth was, it hurt too much.

In the police car, tie put on his seatbelt and started the engine.
He glanced at her. ''Better buckle up."

''Oh, sure." She tried to smile as she pulled the belt across
her chest with one hand and held it away from her body with
the other.

''What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"You know."

"No, I don't. Tell me."

"Your department arrested Esther Roth."

"What? Who's Esther Roth?"

"The P
.
E. teacher." She stared at him. "You didn't arrest
her?"

"Sara, I haven't arrested anyone from St. Gertrude's and
neither have my deputies. Who told you I did?"

"Richard. The sisters. They told me."

''They lied. What was I supposed to have arrested her for?"

Tears overflowed, spilling hotly down her cheeks. ''Let's
go," she said, her voice shaking. "Let's get the hell out of
here."

He looked at her a long moment, then nodded and started
driving. She couldn't stop the silent tears, and they didn't speak
again until they were safely on Apple Hill Road.
"We'll go to my house, okay?"

"I don't want Mark to see me like this." She wished she'd
taken a Valium; she felt like a sniveling idiot.

"He's having dinner at the Parkers'. They won't bring him
home before nine o'clock."

"Okay. Your house."

They soon pulled into his driveway and she couldn't even
bring herself to open the door and get out. Intellectually, she
knew the shock was coming back; she felt the chill on her
body, the numbness behind the tears as John opened the door
and helped her out, then escorted her into the house.

"Come on," he urged. "Sit down." He put her on the couch,
then brought a box of Kleenex and set it on the coffee table.

"Thanks." She wiped her eyes, then blew her nose. "I feel
so stupid. I'm acting like a baby."

"You're acting like someone who's undergone some kind
of trauma."

Laughter bubbled up from under the tears. "Trauma?" She
heard her voice, the incipient hysteria within it, but couldn't
help herself. "Trauma? I guess you could call it that." She put
her hand over her mouth to stifle the laughter.

"What did Esther Roth do to you?"

"Nothing!" She spat the word. "They said she did it. They
even said she hit on Lenore Tynan. The woman's a horrible
creature, but she didn't do it."

"Sara," he said, gently turning her toward him. "Tell me."

She saw his expression change as he caught sight of the bruises
at the edge of her sweater. "Did someone beat you up?"

"Oh, God." She couldn't hold back the hysteria any longer.
"Oh, God. No, John, no one beat me up." She laughed uncontrollably.

"Sara! Get hold of yourself!"

He tried to take her hands, but she yanked them away. Everything
the pills had dulled was rushing back and she was feeling
emotions she should have experienced a week ago, not now,
not in front of John. Hurt and anger filled her. Outrage.

"What happened, Sara? I can't help you if you don't tell
me." His eyes pleaded with her.

"Tell you?" she growled, jumping to her feet. She was out
of control now, and she didn't care. "Hell, no, I'll
show
you!"

She turned away and yanked the sweater over her bead, then
turned back to face him. "Here's what happened! I was
raped."

He was on his feet in an instant, his eyes wide, jaw open.
"Sara, my God! Who did this to you? Why didn't you come
to me?" He stared at the bite on her breast, then looked into
her eyes, searching.

"It wasn't a who, it was a
what.
A
ghost
raped me. A
ghost.
What do you think I should do, give you a description of
something that had no face, no form? How could I report that?
It's ridiculous."

''You could have talked to me-
you know that."

Her anger transformed into sadness as she looked at him. ''I
couldn't talk to you. I passed out and woke up in the infirmary,
and I've been taking Valium ever since. I was about to pop
another one when Carlos called me. You don't have any, do
you?"

"No, and you don't need them. You've got me now."

She bit back tears.

"Who examined you? Dashwood?"

''Who else? Fortunately, I was unconscious, but he said there
wasn't any sign of semen, and that probably Esther Roth and
her dildos attacked me."

"You need to see a real doctor."

"The hell I do. I'm fine."

''The bite looks infected." He moved closer and put his hand
near the breast, but didn't touch it. "I can feel the heat an inch
away. Let me call Dr. Cutter. Human bites are very dangerous."

"You're not hearing me, John. This
isn't
a
human
bite. It's
a
ghost
bite."

John placed his hands on her upper arms, carefully avoiding
the bruises. ''We both know about their ability to fog the mind.
They've probably made you think the rapist was a ghost so
that you couldn't identify him."

Frustration and sadness nearly overwhelmed her. "No, John.
I don't remember what made me faint-
that's foggy, as you
say, like it is for you with your brother. I remember I was going
to Kelly's room-
I was going to take her and leave
-
and then,
there's just the haze. But l remember every detail of the rape.
Every
detail."