Wolf Moon Rising (43 page)

there!” But he ignored her, hypnotized by the face in the fl ames,

the crackling voice speaking to him.

“Come, David. I was with you when you came into this

world, and I will be with you when you leave it.”

He moved nearer.

“David! What are you doing?” He felt a hand on his arm

and he turned to see Jackie, breathless from running, the fl ames

lighting her face.

“Jackie . . . let me—”

“No, David. You must not go in there.”

“But I can see her. She is calling to me.”

“No. Listen to me. Now is not the time.”

He looked back and for an instant the fl aming woman with

wings on fi re became the angel above the grave he had seen in

the cemetery. Th

e accusing eyes.

“Jackie, she needs me—”

“If she wants you, she will come to you. But she cannot ask

this of you. You must not trust her.” She was crying. “David.

Please. Don’t let her take you away from me.”

Jackie’s hand closed over his arm and she tugged him hard,

her grip stronger than he would have thought possible, and sud-

denly there was a loud crack, and he turned back to see the roof

where his mother had been standing explode, then fall to the

fl oor, and only small tongues of fi re fl oated across the incandescent water of the pool.

A huge breath eased out of his chest. Th

en Jackie was in his

—-1

arms, her tears falling. Th

e realness of her body was like a gift.

—0

—+1

271

039-54009_ch01_1P.indd 271

3/15/13 7:44 PM

Lara Parker

He clung to her. “Stay with me,” he whispered while the pool

house burned over her shoulder. “Stay with me forever.”

She sobbed, “Oh, David, I’ve been so worried. I thought I

had lost you. I’ve seen such horrible things. It’s been a night-

mare.”

“So have I. After we got separated I thought I would go

crazy.”

Th

ey clung to one another, the wide lawns spiraling around

them, but they were alone in their own world. David’s heart was

full of gratitude and relief. Th

en he remembered.

“Jackie,” he said, “you won’t believe it. I found the painting

of Quentin.”

“What? Where?” She stopped and looked at him.

“Th

e paint er still lived in the tower, at Collinwood. I found

him, in my room, and— it was so amazing— he had painted

another portrait.”

“And is it . . . I mean—”

“It’s of Quentin. And it’s almost perfect. Th

e only problem

is that he didn’t sign it.”

She grew excited. “Oh, David, that doesn’t matter. Don’t you

see? You solved the puzzle. Th

at’s why we were sent here. Th

at’s

why this all happened.” Her face was fl ushed. “Where is it?”

“Don’t worry. I was afraid we might lose it, so I left it in a

safe place— I’ll show you as soon we get home.”

“Home. If only we could fi nd our way.”

Look,” said Jackie. “Oh, David, we’ve made it back to the

snow. See there, through the woods.”

David could see what she meant; broad stretches of white

along the road where the trees were less sparse. Th

ey stumbled

toward it with some vague hope that it was the place they had

begun their journey. After abandoning the pool house, still in

-1—

fl ames, they had decided to return to the Old House, walking

0—

along the sea road.

+1—

272

039-54009_ch01_1P.indd 272

3/15/13 7:44 PM

Dark Shadows: Wolf Moon Rising

“If we can just get out of this forest, maybe we can fi nd a

way back,” he said, holding her with an arm around her waist.

He hoped his words sounded convincing because he was still

shaking.

“And snow is a good sign,” Jackie said. “It was snowing when

we left. Th

e ground was covered.”

As they moved through the trees, the patches of white grew

wider. David’s hopes soared.

“Look! More snow . . .”

Jackie and David began to walk faster toward the road where

they could see the wide swatch of white, but before the reached

the open area they stopped.

Th

e patches were not snow. Instead, they were a moving

mass of men marching four abreast, spilling down the road

from the Great House. Th

ey were dressed in white robes with

dark holes where their eyes should have been, and they wore

pointed hats that tipped and wobbled against the black sky.

Th

e only indication that they were men, not ghosts, was the

dark pants legs and shoes that showed beneath their skirts. Th

ey

carried staff s topped by fl aming crosses and the light of their

torches cast a glow on their ghoulish hoods. Like a regimented

swarm they spilled over the ground, their robes whipped by the

wind off the sea, and they chanted a song that was half hymn,

half funeral dirge.

“America for Americans,” they droned. “Drive out the aliens.

Purity in Jesus!” As they drew nearer, David could smell the

kerosene their torches had been dipped in before lighting. Some

bore white shields with red crosses plastered on them, and others

carried pistols, tommy guns, or rifl es strapped over their robes.

Hung around their necks were smaller crosses that looked like

cheap costume jewelry, and every man had an American fl ag

pinned to his collar. But it was the torches that created the most

frightening display, raised into the night like fl ags of victory

leading troops into battle.

—-1

Behind the fi rst group of marchers came fi ve automobiles,

—0

—+1

273

039-54009_ch01_1P.indd 273

3/15/13 7:44 PM

Lara Parker

one a huge black Packard, all open to the night air, with seven

or eight pointed dunce caps swaying in each, and the sight

would have made David laugh if their bizarre costumes had not

been so threatening. Now he knew what the men in the parlor

had been discussing, the march of the Klan that night during

the party when there would be so much distraction from the

raid their activities would go unnoticed. Suddenly anxious, he

pulled Jackie behind the trees.

“Stay back,” he whispered. “We don’t want them to see us.”

“But how do we get past them?”

“Just wait.”

“God, look at them. Th

ey’re like ghouls. Where are they

going?”

“It looks like Widow’s Hill.”

It was true. Th

e entire pro cession had turned off the road and

was moving toward the cliff s. “Maybe they’re lemmings in dis-

guise,” said Jackie, “following one another blindly into the sea.”

Finally the pro cession passed by them, and at the end of the

last group there was a disturbance where a group of Klansmen

had something tied, and they were dragging it behind them.

“What’s that?” whispered Jackie. “Oh God, David, are

those prisoners?”

Naked except for their ragged trousers, and barefoot, two

captives were bloodied about the mouth, and the whites of their

eyes fl ashed in the torchlight. One of the bound men grabbed at

the rope with both hands, keeping the noose from tightening

around his neck while he cried out, “You got the wrong man.

Help me God. Th

is ain’t right.”

“It’s a lynching,” Jackie whispered.

No other faces, no hands, no arms were exposed. White

gloves held the rifl es or tugged on the rope, and the front pris-

oner, the stronger of the two, looked up as he was dragged past

and stared directly at David, his eyes bulging and desperate.

-1—

“Help me, God. I ain’t done nothin’.”

0—

“We have to stop it,” whispered Jackie.

+1—

274

039-54009_ch01_1P.indd 274

3/15/13 7:44 PM

Dark Shadows: Wolf Moon Rising

“We can’t.” David’s throat felt dry and he could smell the

kerosene. “Th

ose torches are lethal.”

Even though he could feel her trembling, there was no way

for David to know that Jackie was tormented by memories she

was seeing in her mind: a gibbet on a hill, a crowd of black- robed parishioners, all of one angry mood, bound by ignorance in the

guise of righ teousness. She reeled from the moment— the terri-

ble pain of the noose around her neck, the jerk of the rope that

snapped off her life. She grabbed David’s arm.

“David, we have to save them.”

“No, stay back. Look, see how many there are?” And he

reached for her, enclosing her in his arms.

“David, this is the past. All these things.”

“Yes, and there is no way we can change what is about to

happen.”

“We can save a life. Two lives. We don’t know yet how this

night turns out.”

Hot tears fl ooded her eyes as frustration burned through

her. If only someone had rescued her all those years ago in Sa-

lem, and the curse that plagued the Collins family had never

escaped her lips.

She turned to look at David, who was transfi xed by the scene

unfolding, and she saw in his face the Collins family resem-

blance, the strong profi le, youthful but already resolute, the fi rm chin, the tousled hair. Even though he was still a boy, he had

pledged his life to her. Something fl uttered in her breast. She saw in a fl ash what she had been given; his love was hers to take and

keep. All that she had suff ered dissolved in that moment— the

years of struggle for what was owed to her, the sinister casting

of spells, and the deep hunger for revenge. She could let it all

go. She closed her eyes and leaned against him.

She could welcome her future. Not a great love, she knew it

was not that, but they were still young. Th

ey were more like

friends, a kindly love that would keep her safe until they were

—-1

older. And yet, and this was what made things so diffi

cult:

—0

—+1

275

039-54009_ch01_1P.indd 275

3/15/13 7:44 PM

Lara Parker

hidden inside her lay the specter that they had tried to blast out

of her brain, the fury that was her only true protection against

the cruelties of the world, the power of two centuries of witch-

craft, and that power was still struggling to come forth.

“Stay back,” he said again as he felt her try to break free.

“Th

ere’s nothing we can do. We mustn’t let them see us.”

Th

e pro cession turned and made its way to the cliff s above

the sea. Th

e roar of the surf and the sound of waves crashing

could not drown out the chanting that rose in one voice like a

cathedral choir intoning a dirge. David and Jackie followed at

what they believed was a safe distance, David still clinging to

Jackie, pulling her behind the trees, as they waited for an open-

ing where they could run through to the road.

Now that the hoard of white- robed fi gures had reached the

crest, David was amazed to see that they had made earlier prepa-

rations for their ceremony. A giant cross, at least thirty feet in

height, had been erected on the hillside. Made of two pine trees

stripped of their branches, the staff and arms had also been

wrapped in burlap, quilted with rope, and drenched in kerosene

reeking in the air. Slowly the pro cession surrounded the cross,

the pointed hats tipped this way and that, and the dead black

holes stared out. Th

e cars pulled into the circle as well, and the

cone- headed men jumped out with their burning torches, shout-

ing, “God preserve the Invisible Empire!” and “Native! White!

Protestant supremacy!”

Th

e two helpless men were dragged under a tree with a long

horizontal branch that reached across the sky like the bony arm

of a skeleton. Th

e rope was thrown over it and hauled back by

several ghostly fi gures, their robes whipping in the wind, until

the unhappy prisoners were erect and standing on tiptoe, the

stronger one still reaching up to take hold of the noose. At fi rst the branch sagged and it seemed it might break, but it rose up

again, pulling the rope taut.

-1—

David could feel Jackie trembling, and he held her, wishing

0—

that they had never come here, thinking again that she was in

+1—

276

039-54009_ch01_1P.indd 276

3/15/13 7:44 PM

Dark Shadows: Wolf Moon Rising

danger because of him, that their way down the road to the Old

House where they might leap the gap back into their own time

was blocked by this absurd parade of Klansmen in their bizarre

regalia. Th

e dunce- capped fi gures were marching now, circling

the huge cross and raising their Dev il’s torches to the sky,

shouting slogans of hate.

Th

en one of the foremost group turned to the crowd and

reached up and threw back his visor. His face was exposed to the

fi relight, a richly handsome face, strong jawed and blazing with

conviction.

Raising a fi st in the air, he shouted, “Purity! Purity, I say!”

And the crowd cheered as one, their voices echoing.

Jackie gasped, “Oh, no!” and David felt her grab his arm,