The Eye of the Moon (52 page)

Kacy needed one hell of a good reason to drag herself away from Dante’s dead body after so short a time. Special Agent Swann pointing a gun at her provided just that reason. He was staggering and looked more than a little unsteady on his feet, no doubt because he had suffered considerable blood loss from the wounds Kacy had recently inflicted upon him.

His military training and incredibly high threshold of pain meant that he could put the injury to the back of his mind and carry on the pursuit of the young woman whom he both lusted after and wished to kill. He had done a quick bandaging job on his ass and crotch, using the hand towels in the suite’s bathroom. The crude dressings had stemmed most of the bleeding, and this, coupled with the adrenalin released in him by his fury at Kacy, was keeping him going. Mentally, he shut out the pain, and as a result the wound was already becoming little more than a minor irritation to him. So as Kacy fled towards the far end of the hallway, aiming to disappear around the corner to the flight of stairs leading down to the lobby, he had recovered enough of his wits to squeeze off two shots. The first whistled past her ear and embedded itself in the wall ahead. The second was more hurried due to his erratic running as he chased after her. It hit the ceiling and ricocheted off into one of the side walls. Cursing foully, he holstered the pistol and ran on, limping.

As Kacy hurtled down the stairs she could hear him chasing after her, shouting vile names at her as he did his utmost to close on her. She was not exactly moving at her own best speed, either. Her eyes were so full of tears that she was
almost blinded, and her nose was blocked as a consequence. Her heart was pounding like a drum, and deep down she was wondering whether it was really worth fleeing at all. Dante was dead. She had nothing left. If she did escape, what the hell was she going to do? She had nowhere to go, and no one to go anywhere with.

Yet something was making her legs keep moving down those stairs. Maybe it was the thought that Dante’s death would all be for nothing if she didn’t get away. He would have wanted her to escape. And of course, although she kind of wanted to die because it felt like she had nothing left to live for, she didn’t actually want to be mauled and raped by Swann first. If he managed to shoot her in the head and end it all painlessly without her knowing a thing about it, then fine, but the likelihood was that there would be some serious unpleasantness and suffering to go through before she finally joined Dante in the afterworld. So run, and run quickly, was what she did.

When she finally reached the bottom of the staircase and entered the lobby she found a widespread panic under way. To the right of the stairs a headless body lay on the floor outside the elevator. Normally this would have been enough to send Kacy into some kind of fit, but right now it barely registered as a mild shock. There was some nasty shit going down right now, and the decapitated corpse was obviously just another part of it. People in the lobby were screaming, and there appeared to be the beginnings of a mass exodus going on. The only problem was that no one seemed to be going in any particular direction. In all, there were about twenty shrieking individuals – guests and staff – running around like headless chickens. Whoever had beheaded the corpse seemed to be long gone. Maybe he or she had headed out of the front doors? Which might explain why the screaming masses weren’t all piling out that way …

The sound of Swann bounding around the last corner on the stairs, less than half a floor behind her, ensured that she made her decision quickly.
Out into the street. Go, girl!

Once she was out through those doors she wished she had found another way to go. It was teeming down with rain outside and the wind was blowing up a gale. Her attempt to run down the steps at the front of the hotel was greatly hampered by the wind howling through the streets. It was so strong that her forward progress was dramatically slowed. It felt as if the wind was working against her, pushing her back towards the hotel. And right back into the arms of Special Agent Swann, who suddenly burst through the doors behind her. As Kacy struggled to get off the bottom step and onto the sidewalk he lurched forward and caught hold of her, his giant hands reaching round her, each conveniently grabbing one of her breasts.

Rather than spin her round to face him, he took the opportunity to squeeze her tits hard through her already very wet T-shirt as he charged into her from behind, his upper body and groin forcibly pushing her towards a yellow cab parked directly outside the hotel entrance. He slammed her violently into the side of the cab, her face pressed right up against the rear passenger window on the driver’s side.

There were no passersby out in the thunderstorm, so there was no one to come to her aid. Besides, people had more important things to worry about than Swann and his intentions, whatever they might be, towards Kacy. Only the cabdriver took any notice. The electric window in his door buzzed and slid down. ‘Hey, buddy …’ he began.

Swann momentarily released his grip on Kacy’s right breast and pulled his gun from the holster beneath his shoulder.

BANG!

The shot struck the unsuspecting cabbie in the face. Having watched the hapless man’s brains fly out through the back of his head and splatter all over the inside of the front windscreen, Swann calmly tucked the gun back in its shoulder holster. Then he returned to his unpleasant assault on Kacy, who by now was too weak and too exhausted to fight him off. She was merely a weeping mess pressed up against the side of the cab, unable to create any leverage to fight back with.

Swann’s hands moved down from her breasts towards her crotch. His upper body was still pressed hard against her back, pinning her to the cab door as he began to tug at her jeans.

The rain was holding Kacy prisoner every bit as much as Swann’s lecherous grip. Her clothes were heavy with water and her sodden hair was in her face. The only consolation was that the utterly gross amount of saliva dripping from her attacker’s mouth and on to the back of her neck was being washed away as quickly as it was being produced.

As she felt her jeans being forced down a few inches she dimly heard a loud crash, much like the sound of a window being broken. In the midst of the rain that was coming down in sheets she saw something reflected in the cab window against which her face was being pressed. Several huge shards of glass landed on the pavement behind Agent Swann.

And something else.

A dark blur. The size of a man.

Beth stared up at the moon as it appeared through a break in the heavy rain clouds. It seemed to occupy exactly the same place in the sky as it had all those years earlier. The night she had been attacked by Kione was still as fresh in her memory now as it had been then. Standing at the end of the pier, she almost wished that the loathsome vampire would jump out and attack her again, simply because it might bring the return of her saviour that night, JD.

Since her release from prison eight years earlier she had waited at the end of the pier on each subsequent Halloween night for JD to return. Every year she stayed until the witching hour was over, and every year she returned home alone and disappointed. Nevertheless, it was still the best hour of every year. There was a twisted pleasure to be had in convincing herself that he would return as he had promised, and as the crazy – and now deceased – Mystic Lady had predicted.

The dark grey clouds seemed to be circling the blue moon, as though to hide it from her. And as the end of the Halloween witching hour approached once again, as it did so quickly every year, she gazed out across the waves. The storm was slowly subsiding. The clouds had been blown to the city centre, having passed over the harbour area from the ocean whence they had come. The chaos of the previous few hours had left a trail of devastation in its wake. The promenade was covered in rubbish that had been blown around from overturned garbage cans and shattered flowerpots. But at least the rain had slowed to a light drizzle, and the howling wind was now nothing more than a gentle breeze that blew Beth’s
ankle-length blue skirt a little way up her calves. The hooded sweatshirt that Bertram Cromwell had given her was soaked through, yet she felt no chill. The rainwater that was making the clothing on her upper body cling to her was actually quite warm, even comforting, and with a thin mist floating above the waves she felt as if she were in her own giant outdoor steam room.

The build-up to Halloween excited her more than it did any of the local kids. Unfortunately, once she was on the pier it was always a sad letdown as the initial heart-pounding excitement of convincing herself that JD would come gradually faded with the stars. She also invariably found her thoughts returning to the moment when she had killed her stepmother. These images, however, were no more than flashes through her mind. It was JD’s warm, smiling face and calm assurance that filled her thoughts for most of the time. There was always one final rush of excitement and sadness in the last few minutes as she prayed that he would make a late appearance. During those minutes she never allowed herself to look back down the pier. Instead, she would face out to sea, convincing herself that he was sneaking up from behind to surprise her just as the moon vanished. Yet every year was disappointing, and this one was no different. She watched as the clouds began to cover the moon, and the horizon hinted at the early glow of the dawn that would eventually follow.

She had hoped that the silver cross and neck chain that the Professor had given her would have brought her some luck this year. If the cross was meant to ward off evil then it seemed to have succeeded, but it hadn’t brought back JD. She unclasped the chain and took it off, staring out to sea once last time. Then, as the tears began to stream down her cheeks, she threw the silver chain and cross as far as she could into the waves.

If JD had still been alive, he would have come back for her. She had to believe he was dead, because anything else would mean that he hadn’t cared about her as much she cared for him. So now, without the silver cross with its curious blue stone to ward off evil spirits, she secretly hoped that something
evil would come, to end her time on earth and send her off to meet JD in the afterlife, where they could spend eternity together.

She wiped away the tears staining her wind-reddened cheeks and turned back towards the city. The walk down the pier was a long one that she never wanted to end. But end it did, and soon she was back on the promenade and walking home again.