Under a Ghostly Moon (Jerry Moon Supernatural Thrillers Book 1) (15 page)

The side room they used for their breaks was a doctor
's examination room.  Moon sat himself at the desk, fished out his mobile phone from his back pocket and looked up Uri's number.

Moon
used the desk phone to call out.  They were close to both the Cardiology and Emergency departments and he would rather not risk causing interference on any of the nearby vital signs monitors.  A female voice answered the phone.  "Hello, the Maddock residence." She sounded irritated but not tired and the slight Welsh lilt to her voice made Moon suspect it was Roanne.

"
Hi, it's Moon, could I speak to Uri please."

“Oh, hi Moon.  I’ll get him for you.”

There was a pause then Uri came on the line.  "Moon, it's nearly three-thirty in the morning, my ladies and I may not be sleeping but the household is.  I hope you have a good reason for calling me at this time."

"
Sorry, Uri, this is the only number I have for you.  I've had a bit of a scare and I need your help." Moon described his recent visitation and the ultimatum he had been given.

"
So, I suppose that you would like me to help you develop your powers of spiritual self defence, is that it?"

"
Yes, if I have any, that is."

"
I'm sure you do, Moon.  Anyone who has the ability to interact with the spirit world the way you do should also possess a powerful enough aura to be able inflict damage on the denizens of that plane of existence.  What nights are you not working? We should arrange a time and place for your first lesson as soon as possible."

"
Well, I'm off duty from Friday to Monday but I don't think Sonia will take too kindly to our not being together over the whole weekend." He had been looking forward to spending some very active nights with Sonia that weekend.

"
Far be it from me to stand in the way of true love, Moon, but this could save your life.  It should not only help you to protect yourself from this ghost taker but also these
domovoi
- these goblins that are threatening you."

"
Okay, let's say Monday night for definite and I'll ask Sonia if she's happy for me to meet with you over the weekend.  Erm, there's just one thing, you realise that she's likely to want to come along."

There was a slight pause as Uri considered this
.  "Well, I suppose there's no harm in her coming with you.  You've already let her into our little secret.  I have sensed, also, that perhaps she has some hidden psychic 'talent' as well."

"
It wouldn't surprise me.  She definitely has some borderline psychic ability.  You know.  She senses atmospheres and that sort of thing."

"
Hmm, in which case she may be able to provide you with some… what is the term? ... some back-up.  Why don't you ring me once you have had a chance to discuss this with Sonia, then you can both come over to our place and I will give the two of you a crash course in psychic self-defence? How does that sound?"

"
Great," replied Moon guardedly, unsure that he fancied taking Sonia into the vampires' lair.  Did he trust Uri that much? Strangely… now he thought about it, it seemed he did.

Uri gave him the address of the house that he and the girls shared with the Maddocks, along with directions and a mobile phone number
.  "If we are to meet late at night please call me on the phone and don't ring the bell.  I would rather not disturb the family. I do not want them drawn into this business at all if we can help it.  Part of our commitment to them is to keep them safe and that includes not letting them fall into danger.  Although, I think perhaps that many of them would willingly do so out of loyalty to my ladies and myself."

"
You really think it's that dangerous? This thing hasn't harmed any humans so far as I know."

"
I'm not sure, Moon.  If it is dangerous enough to frighten the Dark Ones… well, one can't be too cautious when dealing with an entity that powerful."

"
Okay, Uri, I'll call you once I've had a chance to talk to Sonia."

He got back off break at about four-thirty.  Claire, sitting huddled at the nurse station, looked ill at ease.  "What's up?" asked Moon quietly, so as not to disturb the patients.

"
Oh, thank God you're back, Moon.  You know, I'm sure I saw a ghost when I came back onto the ward earlier.  I've been scared witless the last hour worrying that it might come back." Her eyes were wide and liquid with fear as she turned to look at him.

"
What did it look like?" asked Moon.

"
Well, I didn't get a clear look because it vanished just as I arrived, but it looked a bit like a woman... only really horrible – like she had been dead for days.  Are you sure you didn't see her? She was looking right at you."

"
No, I didn't see anything." Moon hated lying but he couldn't think what else to say.  "Are you sure you weren't still partly asleep? Your mind can play tricks on you when you're very tired."

"
Well… this
is
my eighth shift in a row – maybe that did have something to do with it.  Perhaps you're right Moon - it wouldn't be the first time I've come back off break a bit disorientated." Claire worked eight nights on and eight nights off, which she claimed suited her.  Moon could see the attraction of the long breaks but thought the physical impact of regularly working eight consecutive nights must be pretty unhealthy.

Moon smiled
.  "That's why I don't sleep on my breaks; I feel worse if I do." Their conversation quickly devolved into to one of the ghost story sharing sessions that hospital staff members occasionally indulge in during their night shifts.  Claire had enough personal anecdotes of that sort to convince Moon that she could be quite psychic herself.  However, any gift she had seemed to be suppressed by her fear of the ghosts themselves.

It
began to get light around five o'clock and shortly afterwards the patients were stirring so Moon and Claire were quickly caught up in taking vital sign observations and the other minor preparations that needed to be done in preparation for the arrival of the day staff.  With so few patients in the unit, the handover to the day staff was short and Moon was finished and on his way home by twenty past seven.  During his walk back through Cotham he replayed his encounter with the Jenny Greenteeth in his head.  It seemed unbelievable that such creatures out of folk-lore actually existed.  But then, if someone had asked him if he believed in vampires a few days ago he would probably have laughed at them.  The spirit world was turning out to be a much more interesting' place than he was certain he could handle.

Moon needed to buy some essentials so he decided to go out that afternoon and wander up to one of the several rather tatty looking supermarkets that were randomly scattered along the Gloucester Road.  Later, he stopped for lunch at one of the cafés that were situated alongside a boulevard-like stretch of the road where the pavement widened sufficiently to allow tables to be set outside without impeding the flow of pedestrians.  The locals called this part of Gloucester Road 'The Prom' for no particularly obvious reason that Moon could see.  It had probably been a more picturesque place to walk in the past, but now it was like just any other part of the busy city street.

He
purchased his meal at the café’s small bar and carried it to a pavement-side table, where he sat down and started to tuck into his burger and chips.  As he watched the pedestrians browsing the shop windows or hurrying on to whatever urgent destination called them, he spotted something that stirred in him a mild sense of alarm.  For some reason Bristol seemed to attract more than its fair share of eccentrics, several of whom frequented the Gloucester Road.  Among the more extreme of these unfortunates was a petite, ageing Afro-Caribbean lady who swathed herself in white and wore a veritable Fort Knox's worth of gold chains around her neck and arms.  From each of these chains dangled at least one gold crucifix.  She would habitually stop people in the street and then subject them to a fire and brimstone sermon for as long as they would put up with her.  Moon realised with panic that this fiery harridan was currently storming straight towards his table.

"
What you gonna do when the Master comes a' callin'?" She asked, pointing dramatically at Moon.

"
I think I’ll probably just ask him for some form of identification. Then, once I’m certain he’s who he claims to be, I’ll lodge a complaint about the shoddy way he's been running things for the last fifty million years," replied Moon, hoping that this would throw her off balance enough to allow him to give her the slip.  He looked around desperately for an escape route.

This would be prophetess wasn
't going to be fobbed off with sarcasm, however.  "You may mock! You may mock..."

"
Thank you," replied Moon.  "I will."

She
didn't even pause in her flow, "But retribution is comin'.  Comin', I tell you!"

"
Yeah, well it's about time because the service has been terrible, we're long overdue for a change of management and a refund if you ask me... Look is there any point to this? Because my lunch is getting cold and I'd rather like to finish it before this so called

'
Master' gets here."

"
But He is here! He is here!" Her eyes opened wide enough for Moon to see the whites all around.

"
What on earth do you mean? We've apparently been waiting two thousand years for his return. Surely something as important as that would be on the news?"

"
Ah, but now He come 'like a T'ief in the Night'.  Now he come to us after dark has fallen… wit’ His awful fiery eyes to terrify the unbeliever… he instruct the faithful in how to punish the infidel.  Already He gather his army of strong and righteous warriors and when we number are complete then Armageddon it will fall."

Something about
'like a thief in the night' and 'fiery eyes' had a familiar ring to Moon.  He frowned and looked up at her quizzically.  "You've seen Him?  You’ve seen these things"

She nodded fiercely
.  "Yes.  Yes! The Master, He come to me, wreathed in shadows with eyes of fire.  He say the time is soon when the unbelievers will fall before the Judgement for now he has placed His winnowing sword in the hands of the faithful."

There it was again
- an allusion to a figure cloaked in shadows with burning eyes.  The woman was clearly barking mad and it could just be coincidence but the description bore a striking similarity to the vision the ghost-globes had shared with him of the 'Ghost Eater'.  "Are you saying that he encourages his followers to cause violence? I thought he was supposed to be all sweetness and light."

"
That was then, this is now!" she replied sharply.  "The Lord say He would come with a sword to set fathers against children and husbands against wives.  His sword, it is in my hand,
unbeliever
!"

The woman threw back a long fold of white cloth over her right shoulder and Moo
n realised abruptly that in that hand she held a rusty, twelve-inch kitchen knife. Suddenly, everything became tinged with a sense of unreality.  Time slowed down to a fraction of its normal rate of passing as his adrenalin kicked in.  Without thinking he leapt to his feet, knocking over his chair and spilling the remains of his meal to the floor as he did so.  Moving with a speed he didn’t know he possessed, he grabbed the wrist of the hand in which she held the knife before she was able to complete her attack. Passers by and the other café clientele watched in astonishment as he wrestled her to the floor and knocked her hand against the cobbled paving until she released her grip on the weapon.  The woman screamed with frustrated rage as he pinned her against the ground and yelled, "Someone call the police!" Then after what seemed like an aeon of waiting in the stunned silence he added an urgent "Call the police… please!"

The police arrived on the scene a few minutes later.  Moon and the woman were both sitting in the café manager's office when they arrived.  The latter was guarded by two not-so-burly kitchen porters.  She had calmed down somewhat but was still muttering under her breath about the 'Master' and staring at Moon with unveiled hostility.  Moon hoped desperately that this wasn't going to drag on too long.  There were a few important things he needed to do before he went to work for the night.

Luckily for Moon enough people had seen what had happened to back up his
claim that this was an unprovoked attack.  The woman, whose name was Benjamina Jones, continued to rave on about the 'Master' and his winnowing sword, which served to add further credence to Moon's account of the event.  "Do you intend to press charges, Mr Moon?" the older of the two police officers asked.

"
Of course I do," replied Moon.  "This poor woman needs psychiatric help.  We can't let her back out on the streets in this state. Her next victim might not be as lucky as I was."

"
Then I'll have to ask you to accompany us back to the station so we can complete the appropriate documents."

For the second time in a week, Moon found himself taken by police car to Bridewell Police Station.  He was sitting in one of the interview rooms making his statement to the same police officer when Detective Inspector Whatley entered quietly.  The Inspector sat on a chair beside the door and waited patiently until Moon and the constable had finished. 

"
Afternoon, Mr Moon,” he said jovially after the constable had left the room, “we seem to be seeing quite a bit of each other recently, don’t we?  I wonder why."

"
Pure coincidence, I assure you, Inspector.  I've no intention of making a habit of frequenting police stations.  Did you just pop in to say hello or can I help you with something?"

Whatley attempted to straighten his tie
.  It was the same one he had been wearing the last two times Moon had met him and the tortured knot refused to budge.  He was wearing a dark blue suit today but it was just as creased as the grey crumpled rag he had worn on the last two occasions.  Moon wondered if the inspector actually slept in his suits because it was the only reasonable explanation for their state of extreme wrinkledness.  "Well, I was hoping you might be able to help shed some light on our current situation.  You see, the attack on you this afternoon wasn't an isolated incident. Every single nutcase in Bristol seems to have suddenly gone more doolally than usual and we've got a string of minor and not so minor assaults to show for it.  It's just pure luck that no-one's been killed so far." He paused to stretch some kinks out of his shoulders, "Bloody deskwork! I swear I spend more time these days filling out forms than solving crimes.  Anyway, did your assailant say anything unusual, perhaps to justify attacking you?"

"
Inspector, nothing that Benjamina Jones said to me could be considered 'usual' in any way… But one thing that did stand out was when she told me that the 'Master' had come to her and ordered her to do it."

"
The 'Master', eh? Did she describe this person to you at all?"

"
Well… yes but what she described sounded like something from a horror film - shadowy black cloak, red glowing eyes, that kind of thing."

Whatley regarded him sharply
and then nodded.  "Really? That's very interesting, Mr Moon, very interesting indeed.  You see all the suspects so far have claimed that they were either coerced or bullied into acts of violence by an individual of a similar description to the one you've just given me.

“
I have to confess I'm a bit flummoxed by this business.  At the moment the only theory that comes close to fitting the facts is that some lunatic is using stage make-up and special effects - possibly combined with a hallucinogenic drug - to incite the less sane element of our community to commit random acts of violence.  Even as a theory, you have to agree, that this is a far from satisfying conclusion.  There are too many unexplained variables - how did this individual gain access to his accomplices' homes, for instance?"

Moon wondered how to respond to this and must have been lost in thought long enough for Whatley to be concerned
.  "Mr Moon?"

"
Oh, sorry Inspector, I was thinking that I might be able to give you a better answer but you'd probably think I was barmy."

Whatley
mulled over Moon’s words for a second – then a connection seemed to click into place behind his eyes.  "Is this something to do with your friend Mr Kievitch's suggestion that you may have what he referred to as 'special talents'?"

"
Why? What has Uri been saying about me?" What had Uri told Whatley about him? Had he made a mistake in trusting the vampire?

"
I interviewed Mr Kievitch at his home on Tuesday and it turns out he is, as you suggested, a rather eccentric but harmless musical entertainer.  However, before I left he made a point of saying that you might be able to help me further with the case.  It was his opinion that you are a very gifted psychic medium."

Great! Thanks a bundle Uri!
  The vampire's anachronistic lack of understanding of what one could safely mention to the authorities in this age of scientific discovery, had probably just landed Moon in a pile of trouble.  "Did he, Inspector?  I wonder what might have given him that idea."

Whatley must
have seen the panic building in Moon's eyes.  "Don't worry, Mr Moon, I'm not about to write you off as a loony.  The 'Sight' is in my family as well, you might say.  My maternal grandmother was like you.  She used to talk to the spirits and that sort of thing.  My Dad used to call her 'that crazy old bat' but;’ we kids knew that Granny Huddlestone was as sharp as a knife... enough inexplicable things used to happen when she was around for us to be sure she wasn't kidding about her powers.  For instance, she’d know when we were up to no good even when we were out of her sight.  Every now and then she'd tell one of us off for something we'd done when she hadn't been around to see it and we'd say: 'How did you know, Nan?' and she'd reply: 'Because Granddad Jack told me'.  Granddad Jack was her father, Jack Huddlestone, who died ten years before even Tom, my older brother, was born.  She told us that Granddad Jack had stayed around so he could watch over his children and grandchildren and make sure we kept out of trouble.  Some people might say I have a touch of it myself; I certainly have a good gut when it comes to solving crimes.  But that's the problem with this case we're working on at the moment… something about it doesn't sit right with my gut."

Moon eyed the organ in question
. 
It certainly looks well developed
, he thought.  "Well, Inspector, if you're willing to entertain the possibility that I am actually in touch with the 'Other Side', I'll tell you what I know…" Moon explained what he had discovered about Dominic's murder and his suspicions regarding today's attack on himself - without going too deeply into how he had gained the information.

When Moon had finished, Whatley regarded him levelly
.  "So you think that Andrew Gibbons is the most likely suspect, as an accomplice at least?"

"
I suppose so but what about 'Animal'?"

"
You mean Francis Walters, the lad who's supposed to be in Glasgow?”  Whatley shook his head. “We have nothing so far to indicate that he even went to Scotland.  His parents knew nothing about the move and haven't heard from him since before Christmas.  We're just waiting for the results from the Glasgow Met's enquiries with the various software companies in their area before we decide that he's officially missing." Whatley thought for a moment then seemed to come to a decision, with a small nod he said, "I'll let you in on a little secret, Mr Moon, seeing as you've been so helpful.  Since we last met there’s been another murder victim found in the same vicinity - a young woman called Lorraine Newton.  I think your girlfriend mentioned her to us when she called us with the information about her missing acquaintances."