MOON FALL (46 page)

Sara's hands hurt, but she had made progress in her efforts
to open the door. The wood had been damp for years and was
rotting away, and Sara had used that to her advantage, eventually
pulling off a large, firm length, which she had used until there
was a six-inch square of faint light entering the ragged hole at
the bottom edge of the door.

At that point, she explored the room again. She found shelves
above eye level lining one wall, and realized there were long
metal ells holding them up. She shoved on the lowest shelf and
it creaked and groaned and finally cracked.

Pulling it from the wall, she went to work on the metal shelf
support, trying to pry it out of the brick wall. It had taken
hours, but now she held it in her hands, one end bare, the other
still with a piece of wood stuck to it.

Now, she was at the door, slowly working the metal between
th
e
door and the jamb, pushing it upward, toward the latch. It
was tedious work and all for nothing if anyone came down to
check on her, but she had already cleared several more inches.
With luck, she just might make it.

"Minerva? Are you okay?"

Minerva opened her eyes and saw that she was looking up
into Kelly Reed's worried face
.
She gave her a small smile.
''Help me up, child. This floor is too cold and hard for my old
bones."

''Should you move? I mean, maybe you need an ambulance."

"Nonsense. Help me up."

Kelly did as she was told. ''You fainted," she said as she
led Minerva to her rocker by the fire. "You were talking. I
heard you, so I didn't come in until you stopped; then I found
you on the floor."

Outside, a nightflyer screeched. It sounded like laughter.
''First of all, Kelly, that was a trance that got away from me.
I was guiding John Lawson's dream; then it was interrupted
by the revenant. John was in trouble and I had to expend a lot
of energy to help him. I believe he's all right now."

''What did you do?"

''A little astral projecting." She patted the girl's hand, trying
to dispel her panic.
"I'll
teach you how someday."

''Someday?" Kelly asked, her eyes bright. ''Does that mean
I can stay with you?"

"That's what it means. You're a gifted student of the occult
arts, Kelly, and I'll expect you to apply yourself."

"Oh, I will. I promise." Outside, a nightflyer screeched, but
the girl barely noticed.
“
You're really going to keep me?"

"We'll
have to pull a string or two, but that won't be too
hard. Now, I need some sleep. Just an hour or so will do. Keep
watch and wake me around two. Then you can sleep."

"An hour's not enough
-
"

"Yes, it's plenty. When you have learned to be a healer, you
won't need more than a few hours yourself. And when you're
very old, all you'll need is an hour." Minerva stood up and
went over to the couch, laid down on it. "Hand me that afghan,
child."

Kelly placed the knitted forest green blanket over Minerva,
then sat down in the old woman's chair. "Minerva?" she asked
quietly.

''Yes?"

"Do you think I'm going to get to live long enough to get
old?"

"I'll see to it. Now, let me sleep."

"What time is it, Lucy?"

"Just past six A.M."

Dashwood felt Lucy's warm but bony body stretching next
to his. They'd spent the evening making plans, everything from
holding Minerva Payne captive in her own house until they
could retake Kelly Reed, to the type of makeup they would
use on Sara Hawthorne when they prepared her for the Beast.
They'd made love twice, and after that, they had expended the
rest of their energy sending the revenant spirit to John Lawson's
house.

Naked, he slipped out from between the black sheets just as
Lucy reached for him. He didn't like to have her sleep with
him and wouldn't have allowed it if he hadn't been so exhausted
by their lovemaking and spell
casting. "Get up, Lucy, dear. We
have much work ahead of us."

She pushed the covers back with her legs and spread herself
across the wide mattress. Despite the reek of the cinnamon
mildew
chemicals she bathed in, Dashwood found himself
responding. The chemical bath might stink, but Lucy's body
appeared young and firm.
And bony.

He was looking forward to checking on Sara Hawthorne. To
preparing her for tonight. She was slim but possessed firm,
round breasts and an ass with enough flesh on it to dig his nails
into. And she didn't smell like rotting cinnamon.

''What are you thinking about, Richard?'' Lucy stretched,
revealing her innermost secrets.

He tried not to respond. "I was wondering if we should feed
Miss Hawthorne and the boy."

''No," Lucy said. ''Leave them alone until it's time to prepare
her." She fixed him with her cold stare. ''And Richard, Regina
will take her into the infirmary, tranquilize her, and do the
preparatory work and the makeup. You don't need to worry
yourself about that."

Bitch.

He smiled, his ire diminishing under the strength of his
desire. "Are you jealous, Lucy?"

''Of course not."

"I think you are."

"Then spank it out of me," she ordered, rolling over.

Sometimes, Dashwood thought as he joined her on the bed,
he rather enjoyed following Lucy's orders.

"It's
what
time?'' John Lawson leapt out of his desk chair,
ignoring the pain and stiffness of his chest and limbs. He stared
at Dorothy.

"Just past noon."

''Good God, you let me sleep?"

"You looked pale, exhausted. I thought you needed it."

"Dorothy, my son is missing, Sara Hawthorne is missing,
and it's Halloween. Don't ever let me sleep again."

"See how much you needed it? You're still cranky."

Cranky, he thought, didn't begin to describe how he felt.
Enraged came closer. He counted to ten before speaking. ''Dorothy,
who's working right now?

"Wyn and Scotty. Jeff's due in at two."

"What are they doing?"

''Running calls." She shook her head. ''There's already been
a fight at Winesap's and a brawl at the Cozy-Up Inn. Two
women fighting over one man. I don't think there's a man on
earth worth
that.
"

John ignored her. "Why did you decide now was the time
to wake me? Why didn't you wait another hour?"

His sarcasm was lost on her. Dorothy giggled and actually
blushed. "Because you've got company. A priest."

"Paul's here already?"

"Paul?'' she shrilled. "I thought he looked familiar. That's
little Paul Pricket out there, isn't it? I used to be great friends
with his mama. She must be so proud of him."

"Dorothy, give me two minutes, not a second longer, then
send him in."

"Okay."

She rushed out the door, no doubt to pounce on Paul. John
combed his hair, then popped two Certs in his mouth and
straightened his clothing. He waited. And waited. After five
minutes, he sighed and walked out of the office. Sure enough,
there was Paul Pricket, wearing a priest's collar and a pained
smile as he nodded at Dorothy's questions.

"Paul," John said, striding across the room.

"John!" Paul's relief was obvious as they shook hands and
then hugged. "It's been a long time."

"It sure has. You look the same. Except for the collar, of
course."

"A little less hair, and a little taller. You're a lot taller than
I remember, and you still have all your hair. What's your
secret?"

"It's in the genes, I guess."

"Oh, yes. You said Minerva Payne is-"

''Come into my office," John interrupted, glaring at Dorothy.
"I don't want to be disturbed unless it's important," he said
sternly, then led Paul behind closed doors.

"Wow." Pricket ran his hand through his thinning blond
hair. "She hasn't changed." He sat down in the chair opposite
John. "You look like hell, Lawson."

John stood up and started unbuttoning his shirt. "You want
a look at h
ell?" He pulled his T-shirt over his head and heard
Paul gasp.

"What happened?"

''If I were Catholic, Padre, I'd have to say a demon bit me."

Paul circled him, gingerly touching some of the marks.
''Does it hurt?''

''Oh, yeah."

''What'd the doctor say?"

"Haven't seen him yet. This thing showed up around midnight.
I came here shortly after and fell asleep, and Dorothy
decided to let me go on sleeping until you showed up."

"By the looks of you, you needed it. Tell me about the
demon."

John put his shirt back on, then sat down and spent the next
hour and a half telling Paul everything, finishing with the dream
that preceded the demonic attack. Paul showed shock, surprise,
and horror as John talked, but the look of revelation on his
face as John recounted the details of the events in the chapel
was the most terrifying of all.

''Dear God, John. It happened, didn't it? It really happened."

John nodded. "I think so. I
know
so. I can't deny it any longer. If nothing else, the visit from that mouthful of teeth
last night convinced me it's all true."

"Do you believe your demon and the one that attacked Sara
are one and the same?"

''Absolutely."

Paul nodded. "So what do we do now?"

"We pay a visit to Minerva Payne."

Sara shoved the metal rod through the jamb and met solid
resistance. "Give me a break," she prayed to whatever god
might be listening. She was exhausted, and had almost given
up a number of times, but Mark's occasional calls for help had
sustained her. Now, she pulled the rod back and replaced it,
slightly below the handle on the door. It slid through this time.

Slowly, she worked it upward, met resistance again, and
knew she'd found the lock. She had no hope of breaking a
padlock, but if the door was secured with an old hasp, she
might be able to pry it out.

She pushed upward, her tired arms trembling with the effort.
Something gave, barely. Heartened, she bent her knees and got
a better grip on the metal, then pushed with all her might.
Slowly, the resistance lifted, inch by inch, and then the door
yawned open so suddenly that she gasped.

She stepped into a large, dimly lit area and looked back at
the door. It didn't even have a lock, just a wooden bar that fit
into a metal rest.
Finally, my luck is changing!

"Mark?" she called. She couldn't see far into the gloom,
but she figured she must be in the long, low-ceiling basement.

"Sara?" The voice was muted, but close by.

"Keep talking, Mark. I'm on my way."

She followed his voice to a heavy door, her heart sinking
when she saw the padlock securing it.

"Mark, I can't unlock the door, but I'm going to get your
father. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Okay," he called, his voice betraying disappointment.

Overhead, a door opened.
Please don't talk, Mark!
Sara fled
into a shadowed comer and crouched behind some mildewed
wooden crates.

Footsteps clicked down the stairs and across the floor to her
prison. She heard a gasp, an oath, and then the footsteps, rapid
now, approaching. From behind the crates she watched as Sister
Regina knocked on Mark's door.

''Boy, are you in there?"

"Let me out," Mark called. "My dad's coming and he's
going to arrest you if you don't let me out
now!"

Sara cringed, wishing Mark hadn't said anything. Regina
crossed to the stairs. Her hand on the rail, she turned.

"Sara, I know you're here, and I'll be back in a few minutes
with Mother Lucy and Dr. Dashwood. Show yourself now, or
you'll be severely punished."

Sara waited until the footsteps went upstairs and the door
opened and closed. She knew she had to get out before Regina
alerted the others, and she didn't have time to be picky.
Af
ter
counting to a hundred, she sprinted across the room and tiptoed
up the stairs.

She found a blank wall where a door should be. Frantically
she felt for a latch, and finally her fingers found one. The wall
slid slowly and silently away, and she found herself in Richard
Dashwood's bedroom. She could hear voices in the living room,
Richard's and Lucy's and Regina's.

"The boy is still there, but Sara Hawthorne managed to get
away," Regina said quickly. "She's still down there. There's
no way out except through this apartment."

Sara crossed to the bed, laid down, and worked her way
underneath it.

"I told you, Richard," Lucy stormed. "I told you to put her
in with the boy for safekeeping, but no, you had to do it your
way."

"Let's go g
et her," Dashwood said in a stern
, angry tone.

Sara saw their feet as
they entered the bedroom. Dash
wood's
came right up to the bed, then she heard a drawer open. He
took something out, then closed it again. "Dart gun," he said to
the women. ''It'll put her out at two hundred feet, if necessary."

Lucy made an irritated noise, then the entrance slid open
and the trio disappeared. As soon as the door shut, Sara crawled
out from under the bed. She started to pick up Dashwood's
phone, but realized it was too dangerous to stay here.

She left the apartment, trying to keep to the shadows. Classes
would be in session right now, so her best bet was to make it
to a safe phone, in case she got caught leaving the abbey.

She could
h
ear voices in the infirmary waiting room, so she
passed it by and went up to the first floor, emerging near Lucy's
office. She sprinted through the empty hallway, made the office,
and entered.

It was empty, thank heaven. She crossed to the inner office
door and made short work of the locking knob with the metal
rod she still carried. She picked up the phone.

"What are you doing in here?"

Sara whirled, saw Sister Elizabeth blocking the exit, her
hands on her hips, her pale face set and hard. Her tongue flicked
out and she licked her lips. "Answer me."

She was out of options. Raising the metal rod, she charged
the nun, swinging at the side of her head, and, to her surprise,
connecting
.
The sister went down, her eyes rolling back in her
head.

Quickly, Sara stripped off Elizabeth's habit and cowl, pausing
only an instant when she saw the nun's lingerie-
red bra,
panties, and
garter belt
and black fishnet stockings. Opening the
closet, she dragged the nun inside and closed the door, then
quickly donned the habit and draped the rosary around her
waist. She wiped the dirt from her face with a handful of tissues
from a box on Lucy's desk after dipping them in a pitcher of
water, also on the desk, then placed the cowl on her head.
Again, she turned to pick up the phone, but she heard the door
to the outer office open. Sara grabbed the rod and plastered
herself against the wall by the door.

"What the-" came a female voice.

Sara brought the rod down on the back of the nun's head as
she came through the door. It was Margaret, and she went
down like a sack of potatoes.

There wasn't room for two nuns in the closet and classes
were about to let out. Not sure where she was going, Sara
stepped over Sister Margaret and walked boldly into the halls
and out the front door.

Two nuns were on the walk, coming up from the gate, and
she figured they couldn't recognize her since she wasn't sure
of their identities. Mentally cursing, Sara nodded hello at them,
then turned and briskly walked toward the dormitory. Passing
them was too risky.