Night Of The Blackbird (34 page)

“No need for that, I'm already scared,” she told him.

She gasped, stunned, as he reached out and grabbed her, twisting her into his arms. She felt the blade of the knife at her throat. A ragged whisper touched her ear as he pulled her close against him.

“Iss binn beal 'na thost!”

Despite the blade at her throat, Moira screamed.

T
he creature shoved her forward. Moira raced through the door and down the hallway, took the wrong turn and burst into the rainbow room again.

The leprechaun turned, grinning evilly.

The right, the right, she had to go to the right to get out. But somehow she found herself in the graveyard again, colliding in the dim light with a man. She screamed.

“Moira, it's me.”

Danny. He gripped her shoulders, shaking her slightly. “Why did you walk off like that? We've all been going in circles, looking for you.”

Lights suddenly came on. The grim reaper—revealed as a tousle-haired college kid with his hood and mask removed—came rushing into the graveyard scene, followed by Dirk. “Moira, I'm so sorry. Are you all right? You rushed on ahead. What on earth frightened you so badly?”

Glaring lights betrayed the fact that the gravestones were nothing more than foam and the flying banshees black-clad figures on strings as the others came rushing in. Michael and Sally came from the revolving floor behind her, Patrick and Josh from the forward doorway.

She stared at the grim reaper. “He threatened me with a knife!”

“Adam?” Dirk said with bewilderment and anger, staring at the kid.

“I didn't threaten anyone with a knife,” the boy protested, and looked at Moira earnestly. “Honestly, I only carry the scythe. And it's rubber—look.” He proceeded to show her how the blade of his weapon moved, bending at his slightest touch.

“Someone threatened me,” she murmured. “With a real knife. And he—”

Sally came over to her, wrapping her arms around her. “Moira, I'm so sorry. We should have all stayed together. But none of the employees ever carry real weapons. Ever.”

Moira realized that they were all staring at her. She was never going to convince them that she hadn't managed to let her imagination get out of control.

Michael came up to her then, putting his arms around her. “Maybe a haunted house wasn't such a great idea right after the death of a friend,” he murmured, smoothing her hair.

She allowed him to hold her and turned in his arms, looking at Sally and the three men before her, Danny, her brother and Josh. She was suddenly certain that none of Dirk's employees had threatened her. And someone here knew she wasn't lying.

Whichever one of them had threatened her.

“Iss binn beal 'na thost,”
she said softly, repeating the Gaelic words the attacker had whispered. “A silent mouth is melodious.”

“A silent mouth is melodious?” Michael asked, frowning as he tightened his arms around her securely. His tone, however, suggested that, despite his longing to have faith in her, he was losing it. “Moira, honey, what is that?”

“An Irish proverb,” Patrick said, watching his sister and looking puzzled. “My grandmother used it often enough when we were kids.”

“When my folks said it, it meant shut the hell up,” Sally said lightly.

“Sweetheart, that's not really a threat,” Michael said softly. “It's rather pretty. An Irish proverb. I like it.”

“Dirk,” Sally said, “I guess we should get out of here.”

“Yes, of course. Adam, it's all right. Take a few minutes. We won't let any more groups through for a while.”

“Thanks,” Adam said, but he still hesitated, approaching Moira but maintaining a safe distance from her. “I'm real sorry if I frightened you.”

“You didn't,” she told him.

He frowned, nodded and passed by. She could just imagine what he would have to say if he was with friends and happened to flick a television to the Leisure Channel and catch her show. “Man, I met that lady once, and let me tell you, she is one pathetic wacko!”

“Come this way,” Dirk said. “I'll get you all out of here.”

They followed him. With the lights on, Moira saw how small the place really was, and how unbelievably
un
realistic. He led them into a gift shop that led to the front porch of the house.

“Look, I'm really sorry. I should have kept you together and stayed right with you,” Dirk said.

Sally put a hand on his arm. “It's all right. Moira doesn't usually overreact like this. She's been under a lot of stress.”

“I haven't been under stress,” she insisted, knowing it was a lie.

“Moira, going home after being away is always stressful. Especially when you're Irish,” Sally murmured. “And then Seamus…Anyway, Dirk, thanks.”

“You're welcome, but I am so, so sorry,” he said again.

Moira walked up to him. “Please, you and Martin have been wonderful. The restaurant is great, and this place is the best in Salem. Really. I look forward to coming back.”

“Thanks.”

“But we've got to get home. My dad will need help tonight, I'm certain,” Moira said.

“Yes, we've got to get back,” Patrick said.

Everyone began saying goodbyes. Moira escaped to the sidewalk with Sally and hugged her friend.

“Honestly, Moira, I'm so—”

“Please, don't you dare tell me you're sorry again. You've been wonderful. Listen, as soon as this Saint Patrick's thing is over, we'll make real plans to get together.” Sally nodded, and Moira glanced at her watch. “It really is getting late.”

“I'll go find the others.”

Moira knew when Danny came up behind her a moment later.

“I thought you didn't speak Gaelic?” he said.

She spun around. “You know, Danny, I can also tell you how to say kiss my ass in Gaelic but that doesn't mean that I speak the language. Yes, I know a few words. I've heard it my whole life. Why? Was that you in there, testing me?”

“What?”

“Did you steal one of the costumes and threaten me, just so you could come out and call me a liar?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Moira, now you're being absurd.”

“Am I?”

The others were coming out behind him. Moira walked past him, linking arms with Sally again. “Walk with me so I can have a few minutes with you before we take off. You know, it's true, since we've both moved away, we hardly see one another anymore.”

“Moira…”

“I'm all right, really. Let's move on ahead.”

When they had gotten out of earshot, she asked Sally, “Where were you all when I went ahead? Still together?”

“Um…wow, I'm not really certain. No, we weren't actually all together. I was talking to Dirk in the Bram Stoker room. He was out of there like a bat out of hell when he heard you scream. Most of the walls in there are false. You can travel the whole place in a matter of minutes if you use the pathways behind the walls. I tried to follow him, and I think I came in by the other door. I don't even remember right now. Why?”

“I just wondered,” Moira said, frustrated, but trying not to let Sally see it.

“Moira, it couldn't have been a real knife. There aren't any in the place.”

“Well, I was definitely fooled.”

“And why would someone threaten you with a knife, then come out with an old saying our grandparents used? I know there's no one saner than you in this universe, but maybe you…maybe you have been working too hard.”

“Maybe,” Moira agreed. She looked back, making sure the others were still a distance away. It was almost five o'clock; the streets were dark. Maybe they were even too far away. She didn't like the darkness anymore. She wasn't sure if she wanted to be with people or if she felt safer alone. She could see Josh and Michael carrying the cameras, with Danny and Patrick behind them. She looked at Sally again. “Please, don't be worried about me. I'm fine. You're sure you weren't with anyone else?”

“Well, yes, I told you, I was with Dirk.”

Sally was perplexed. Moira decided that she wasn't going to say any more—her questions weren't getting her anywhere.

As they crossed the street, Michael caught up with them. “We're parked at the common, so I guess we should split up here.”

“I guess,” Sally said. “Michael, it was so nice to get to meet you. And, Moira, please take it easy, and send your parents my love and sympathy.”

As she spoke, Danny reached them.

“Where are you parked?” he asked Michael.

“At the common.”

“Wait for us to drive around and we'll follow you home.”

“That isn't necessary,” Michael told him.

“I'd like to be behind my sister,” Patrick said, coming up.

“We're all going back to the same place,” Josh said, joining them. He took Sally's hand, thanking her and telling her that it had been great to meet her.

Moira kissed her friend on the cheek one last time. “See you soon,” she promised, and started walking. Michael caught up with her, slipping an arm around her shoulders.

“Hey, are you all right?”

“I'm fine,” she lied.

He didn't try to talk again as they walked to the car. She was grateful. When she slid into the passenger seat, she leaned back, exhausted. She had been afraid. Terrified. It had happened in split seconds. Or had it happened at all? The ghouls in the horror house weren't supposed to touch the customers, but she had been touched. Or was she losing it? The evil leprechaun had made her uneasy. Maybe…

No. Someone had purposely scared her.

But she hadn't been hurt. She'd been frightened, then released. Naturally. The place was small, filled with people. Someone was bound to come quickly once she screamed. Of course, if the blade had crossed her throat…

And here she was, alone with Michael. What if it had been him? What if, for some bizarre reason, he wanted to kill her? She was alone in a car with him. Night had come. He was driving. He could drive anywhere….

Except that he hadn't started the car.

He was looking in the rearview mirror.

“There they are, behind us,” he murmured

“If you lose them on the road, don't worry about it.”

“I won't lose them.”

They drove down the street, turned and headed out of town. Moira looked out the window. They passed the restaurant and the haunted house. She noticed a group of kids on the next street, in front of a gingerbread Victorian. One boy was sitting on a parked car, something in his hand. It glinted in the streetlight. A knife.

She sat up straight, staring at the kid as they passed. He was out of makeup, but she still recognized him as the boy who had played the vampire.

“Stop the car!” she told Michael.

“What?”

“Stop the car. Pull to the curb and stop the car.”

“Moira, are you sick?” he asked, doing as she asked.

She jumped out of the car, ignoring the question. She might have been insane at that moment; she almost hoped so. She wanted to look insane and scary. She strode across the street, dodging traffic heedlessly, aware that Michael was hurrying behind her and not caring. She was dimly aware that Patrick had pulled over, as well.

She reached the group of kids ahead of everyone else and walked up to the car, eyes narrowed, teeth gritted. The kid looked at her with real alarm in his eyes, trying to jump off the car and get away, but she caught him by the lapels of his jacket before he could do so.

“You!”

She
was
insane. He was still holding the knife, and it was real.

“You little two-bit jerk,” she breathed furiously.

He was surrounded by his friends, but his face was white and the other kids were dead silent. “Why did you do that to me? And don't even think about lying, because I know it was you.”

“I didn't hurt you. I was just supposed to scare you!”

He was probably sixteen. And though he might have been a big man at his high school, he suddenly looked like just a sixteen-year-old kid.

“Who told you to scare me?”

“A man…I needed the money. He came by maybe an hour before you did. Lady, he gave me a hundred bucks, and I really needed it.”

“
What
man?”

By then Michael had reached her. He had her by the shoulders. “Moira—”

“Let me go, Michael.” She returned her attention to the boy. “Tell me,
what man?
”

The others had reached them. Danny took the kid by the shoulders, spinning him around. “She asked you a question.”

“I'm going to call my mother.”

“Good. She can come down to the police station with us.”

“Hey, it isn't even a real knife. Okay, it's a knife, but it's a magician's prop. It's steel, but it retracts. Please, man, you can't call the cops on me! Please.”