Wolf Moon Rising (48 page)

“Where has everyone disappeared to? I tried to call on An-

toinette Harpignies and she is also out of town, I believe. A

young girl is living in her house . . .”

David was suddenly livid. “Listen, Dr. Blair. Th

is is a situa-

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tion for the sheriff . You are completely out of your territory.”

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“Th

ere is a vampire, David, living here on the grounds

of Collinwood or somewhere close by.

Doesn’t that bother

you? And if it does not, may I ask why? What is everyone

hiding?”

“We are hiding nothing, and even if we were, it is no busi-

ness of yours. You seem to see vampires everywhere you look!

We refuse to be subjects of a sordid pseudo- scientifi c publica-

tion written for your own fi nancial gain. You are the grubbiest

sort of Peeping Tom, sneaking around other people’s lives. Why

don’t you investigate your own?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, let’s see. I seemed to remember some pretty distaste-

ful stories about your brother, Nicholas. Is there anything more

depraved than a pact with the dev il?” ’

Blair bristled but held his ground. “If you refuse to cooper-

ate, then I will make my own investigation. I will start by hav-

ing this man arrested.”

Willie’s eyes widened in panic.

“I’m sure Willie meant well,” said Roger. “He is devoted to

this family.”

“He is an accomplice—”

“Very well, Blair. Have it your way,” said Roger, losing

patience. “Take your case and your corpse to the police. I’m sure

the Collins family will weather any storm and withstand any

inquisition. We always have.”

But David had already jumped on the snowmobile and was

headed for the Old House.

As he gunned furiously down the sea road, David made him-

self a promise. He would protect her, no matter what. Even

if he did not feel her equal in magic, he would keep her safe,

love her, stand in the way of anyone who might harm her. He

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would not leave her alone in the same house any longer with

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Barnabas now that her mother had deserted her. Barnabas was

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the vampire! One of their family, but still a threat. He shuddered at the thought of Jackie living so close to a monster.

He and Jackie should fi nd a way to leave Collinsport, make

a life together that was separate from his family’s legacy of mis-

fortune. He understood from his time in the past that his ances-

tors had always been involved in illegal activities. A greedy

strain ran though the blood of the long line of Collinses, and it

was in his blood as well. Th

ey had come to America from En-

gland fi rst as Puritans grabbing land that was not theirs and

then as shipbuilders in the slave trade. Th

ey had been bootleg-

gers in the Twenties, ruthlessly cooperating with the Mafi a, and

were members of the KKK. Th

ey had cheated and even mur-

dered others for personal gain.

How could he hope to be any diff erent? He believed his fa-

ther was a good man— taciturn and critical, but not dishonest.

Perhaps he could be convinced to give David a part of his in-

heritance so that he and Jackie could leave. No, that was not

likely. What about Aunt Elizabeth? She was kindhearted and

seemed to hold inside of her some sadness he did not under-

stand. But something told him she might help.

First he must convince Jackie to go with him. He be-

lieved that she loved him and he knew he loved her more than

life itself. He jammed the throttle and leaned back, the track

grinding into the snow.

Two fi gures were up ahead on the road, the larger one wear-

ing a red- and- black plaid lumberjack coat and a cap with earfl aps, the smaller one in a dark jacket and a stocking cap, his head

bowed and his hands in his pockets. As he drew nearer, David

saw that they were boys about his age, probably come out here

from town since he had never seen them around Collinwood.

He decided to drive around them, but the taller boy called

out to him. “Hey, you!”

David braked and turned back to see the boys walking to-

ward him.

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“Yeah?”

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Th

e larger boy spoke. “We wanna ask you something.”

David shrugged. “Okay.” He shut off the engine.

Th

e two boys looked at each other and then the larger one

spoke.

“We got a buddy, Ernie. Something happened to him when

he did a job at that house down there, and we thought we’d

come over here to see if anybody knew anything.”

David shook his head and gripped his handlebars, keeping

one foot on the ground. “I don’t know Ernie,” he said. Th

e boy

in the plaid jacket was the size of a football player. A tackle. Th e

smaller boy had pale green eyes and a mouth full of crooked

teeth when he spoke.

“Th

ey said it was a wolf, but we don’t think so.”

“I’m sorry,” said David, “but I don’t know your friend.”

“He was all torn up. In the basement of that fancy house.

Ain’t that where you live?”

David nodded, anxious to get away.

“And you ain’t heard about no murder?” Th

e boy’s posture

grew menacing and there was a scowl on his face as he moved

closer to David. Th

e smaller boy stayed behind him, grinning,

and then he spat on the ground and wiped his mouth with his

sleeve. “We fi gured someone here would know somethin’,” he

said.

“I did hear the son of the exterminator was unfortunately

killed by a wolf down in the basement where he was searching

for a wild animal trapped in there.”

“Th

at’s bullshit and you know it. And he ain’t the only one.

Th

ree weeks ago another friend o’ ours got lost in these woods,

and we ain’t seen him again, either.”

“Well, this is private property. You guys shouldn’t be around

here.”

“How come the cops don’t do nothin’? Th

at’s what we want

to know. Th

is here Collins family. Th

e cops never come after

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you people, do they?”

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“No one said anything about a murder,” David said, lifting

his foot back on the running board.

“Th

at so?” Th

e boy in the red jacket stepped between the

two skis and put his fat fi sts around David’s handlebars. “What

about that spooky witch girl,” he said, leaning in. “Don’t she

live back there in that old house with the columns?”

David seized up inside. He jerked back on the snowmobile.

“Stay away from her,” he said, then immediately regretted it.

“Why? She your girlfriend?”

David began to feel threatened. It was so quiet and empty

in the woods. “Wait a minute. I don’t want any trouble,” he

said, pulling the start cord. Th

e engine came to life and David

shouted over the noise, “I’m sorry about your buddy.”

He moved the sled forward but the boy stood his

ground and leaned over and hit the kill switch. Th

e engine

coughed and died. David leaned back.

“I’m just askin’. Is Jackie your bitch?”

Th

en the boy in the green jacket came out from behind the

larger boy. “You done her yet?” he said.

“Get out of my way,” said David. He lifted up on his sled

and reached for the handle, but the boy in the red coat

grabbed the handlebars and twisted them hard, turning the

skis, and David lost his balance, and caught himself with his

other foot stretched out on the ground. Th

en the boy in the green

coat stuck his boot under David’s ankle and tugged. David fell,

bringing the sled down on top of him as he crashed into the

snow. “Hey!” he yelled, “What the hell are you doin’!”

Th

e larger boy fell on him and rammed his shoulders against

the ground. Furious, and hauling back his fi st, David smacked

him in the face. When the boy backed up, he scrambled to his

feet and reached for his sled, but he felt two hands grab him by

his jacket and pull him. He spun around.

“Cut it out, asshole!”

He hit the boy as hard as he could in the stomach.

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David heard a click and there was a silver fl ash in the smaller

boy’s hand. He backed away, but saw the larger boy bend over

and pick up something out of the snow. It was the velvet box. He

opened it and took out the locket.

“Oh wow!” he said in mock admiration. “Now ain’t that

pretty. Th

at for your little bitchie witchie?” And he tossed it in

his grubby fi ngers.

“Give me that!” David leapt for him, but the boy stuck out

the fl at of his hand and slammed David so hard in the chest it

knocked the air out of him. Even though the boy with the knife

was scared— David could see that— he still waved it in his di-

rection. David was breathing hard, sidestepping; which one

should he go for? Th

e sled was still on its side.

Th

en the big boy turned his back and leaned his head over,

fumbling with the locket. When he got it open, he turned

around and twisted it. “Watch this,” he said, snapping the

hinge. Th

en he swung the chain and pitched the locket over his

head into the woods.

“Goddamn you!” David jumped him again, blasting him

with his fi sts, socking haphazardly, his brain white with rage.

He hardly felt the blows that came at him, but when the knife

cut his forehead, he reached for it and it sliced his hand. He

howled in pain, the world spinning, and he could tell they were

not about to quit. He backed away heaving, blood fl owing into

his eyes.

Squinting, he took aim and landed a well- placed blow to

the chin that sent the larger boy crashing. David staggered over

and with a huge eff ort, righted the sled. Th

e boy in the green

jacket still had the knife and was dancing around brandishing it

in front of him, making a mewling sound.

Panting, his mind a blur, David leaned in, keeping an eye on

him, then jerked the start cord, leapt aboard, and revved the

engine. Standing up on the back he gunned it, pulled up on the

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skis, throwing all his weight into the charge; shifted his butt;

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turned; and rammed the smaller kid in the chest. Th

e boy folded

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up for a second, and before he could stand back up, David

jammed on the throttle and busted off down the road. Th

ey

chased him for a while, but they gave up when he was twenty

yards ahead and gaining speed.

Pumped up with fury, David drove like a maniac, fl ying

over the snow, taking to the air after every bump in the road

and landing in fl umes of powder. He was afraid to go to the Old

House, afraid they would follow him there. If they were still

after him, he needed a diversion, and he couldn’t go home with-

out going back by them. Th

en there was the sound of his sled

that gave him away. Up ahead was the cemetery.

He stashed the snowmobile behind a large drift, and then

took off his jacket and swept his footsteps behind him as he ap-

proached the small crypt where he and Jackie had found the

painting. After chasing out the rats, he crawled inside and

curled up in the dark. He was shaking violently and his hand

was bleeding. Feeling dizzy, he tore a piece from the bottom of

his shirt and wrapped it around his palm. Th

e cut was deep, but

he couldn’t tell how bad it was. Th

en he felt tentatively for the

wound on his forehead. Th

ere was a big knot crusted over and

sore. He fought the urge to pass out.

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N i n e t e e n

Wiping the blood from his mouth, Barnabas came out of

the wood and crossed the snowy terrain behind the Old

House. He opened the door to a numbing silence. He was still

surprised that a house without Antoinette somewhere about

could feel so empty. Somehow her presence had always been

palpable, even when she was nowhere in sight. He felt like a very

old man.

Even though it had not been satisfying, the kill had sapped

his strength. He would have liked to search for another victim;

however, weakness overwhelmed him and he was obliged to re-

turn to the Old House. Th

e rooms he passed through were as