Bad Moonlight (9 page)
Authors: R.L. Stine
“We'll catch up in a minute!” Kit called after Dee.
He turned to Danielle. “I really wish you'd come,” he told her.
Danielle felt tempted. The light in Kit's eyes was so warm.
But the moonlight was cold.
Cold and evil.
Danielle knew she had to stay out of it.
“Sorry guys,” she insisted, keeping her voice light. “I feel a song coming on. If I don't work on it now, I'll lose it.”
The others grumbled, but they didn't push her anymore. Danielle knew they wouldn't. They knew how hard it was to write songs. If an inspiration hit, you had to go with it.
Danielle grabbed her guitar from the van and waved goodbye. She hurried up to her room. Without bothering to turn on any lights, she flung herself across one of the lumpy beds.
Her entire body trembled.
Maybe she
should
try to write a song. She could use the melody from “Stop Me,” the one she'd written for Dee, and put some new lyric to it.
She had dropped her guitar by the closet door. Danielle pushed herself off the bed and stumbled toward the closet.
She stopped halfway across the dark room when she heard a sound.
A rustling. Then a cough.
I'm not alone, she realized. There's someone else in this room.
Danielle straightened up and started to back away from the closet.
With a loud creak the closet door swung open.
Dee stepped out into the dim light. Her amber eyes glinted with fury. “Don't even try to get away this time,” she whispered.
“D
eeâwhat are you doing here?” Danielle choked out. “I saw you leave for the river.”
“Yeah, right,” Dee muttered. She clicked on the ceiling light. “You've been trying to avoid me, Danielle. But you can'tânot now. Not this time. You and I are going to talk.”
“No!” Danielle cried. Dee's intense stare terrified her. “Get out!”
“Listen to me!” Dee insisted, taking a step closer. “I know the truth about Joey!”
“Huh? What are you saying?” Danielle rushed past Dee and pulled open the door to the hallway. “I don't want to hear any more about it! Get out! Get out!”
“Not until we talk!” Dee insisted in a low voice. Moving swiftly, she advanced on Danielle.
With a gasp Danielle turned to flee.
Kit stood blocking the doorway.
“Kit!” Danielle grabbed his arm. “What are youâ? Never mind! I'm so glad to see you!”
Kit took a step into the room. He turned to Dee. “What's up? You went with the others.”
The fire in Dee's eyes faded. “I changed my mind,” she muttered. “Uh . . . I was just saying good night to Danielle. See you guys. Later.” Avoiding their eyes, Dee stepped past them and out of the room.
“What was that about?” Kit asked Danielle, drawing her into the room. “You look upset.”
“I am!” Danielle exclaimed. “Kit, she was so
furious!
I thought she was going to try to strangle me again. She said she knew the truth about Joey!”
“Excuse me?” Kit's voice came out shrill. “What did she mean by that?”
“I didn't give her a chance to tell me.” Danielle drew a shaky breath. “But you heard what she accused me of in the van!”
“Hey, calm down,” Kit said gently. Taking her hand, he pulled her toward the window. “Dee's been really upset since Joey died, andâ”
“I noticed,” Danielle interrupted.
Kit nodded. “Yeah, I guess I don't have to tell you,” he admitted. “But anyway, I don't think Dee really means what she says.”
“She didn't even like Joey,” Danielle insisted. “At least, she didn't act as if she did.”
“Some people don't show how they feel,” Kit
replied. He put his arm around Danielle again and pulled her close. “I'm not one of them,” he confided.
Danielle smiled. “I'm glad you're not,” she whispered.
Kit bent his head and kissed her.
Danielle kissed him back, enjoying the moment.
A warm breeze blew through the open window, but Danielle shivered. She opened her eyes.
Moonlight streamed in, bathing them both in its icy glow.
Ignore it, she told herself. Enjoy the kiss.
She pressed her hands against the back of Kit's neck.
But pulled away suddenly when she heard the long, mournful howl. So close. Just outside the hotel.
She gasped and stumbled back from the window.
Another terrifying howl.
Danielle covered her ears. “Make it stop!” she cried. “Please, Kit! Make it stop!”
“Huh?” Kit gazed at her with concern. “Danielleâmake
what
stop?”
K
it studied her face. “Do you really hear something?”
“Iâ” Danielle paused. Don't tell him, she thought. Don't let him know. He'll think you're weird. A freak.
“Danielle?”
“No,” Danielle said. “I mean, yes. I heard
some
thing. A truck, I guess. You know, one of those monster trucks, roaring past.”
“I didn't hear it.” Kit shrugged and reached for her again.
“Listen, Kit, maybe you should go to the river with everybody else,” Danielle told him. “I was going to work on a song, but I suddenly feel really wiped.”
She could see the disappointment on Kit's face. “You sure you're okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. I'm okay.” Danielle put her arm around his waist and urged him to the door. “I'm really glad you came back, Kit.”
“Me too.” Kit leaned close and kissed her. “See you tomorrow. And try not to worry too much about Dee.”
Right, Danielle thought as she closed the door behind him. I won't worry
too
much about Dee. After all, I have a good list of other things to worry about.
Like the horrifying fantasies.
My parents' car accident.
The strange animal howls that no one else seems to hear.
The moonlight. The bad moonlight . . .
Danielle lowered the shade on the window to shut out the moonlight. She slid the red dress off and slipped into the faded blue, oversize T-shirt that she liked to sleep in.
The howling had stopped for the moment. Maybe she'd be able to sleep. Then she could forget everything for a while.
Danielle climbed into bed, pulled the sheet up, and closed her eyes.
The howling began again.
Ignore it. It's in your mind, she scolded herself.
No. It's not. It's real.
She buried her head in the pillow, forcing away the frightening wails.
She fell into a fitful, dreamless sleep. Woke fully alert a little after two.
Caroline?
No. Still not back.
Why was Caroline out so late?
Restless and wide awake, Danielle jumped out of bed. I'll get a soda from the machine at the end of the hall, she decided. Then maybe try to work on a song.
She dug some change out of her duffel bag and pulled open the door.
Danielle froze.
Halfway down the hall, sprawled on the worn carpet, lay a body.
Dark blond hair.
Eyes shut tightly. Mouth hanging slackly open.
Not smiling.
Not smiling with the dimple in his cheek.
Not smiling. Not smiling. Not smiling.
No. Billy wasn't smiling.
Billy was dead.
N
ot Billy, Danielle thought.
Please,
not Billy!
It's a fantasy, she told herself, trembling all over. Another horrifying fantasy.
Danielle squeezed her eyes shut.
I'll open my eyes, and he'll be okay.
I'll open my eyes, and the body will have vanished.
She took a deep breath and opened her eyes.
Still there.
The blood throbbing at her temples, Danielle took a step toward Billy. Then another, and another.
Billy's yellow T-shirt rose and fell on his chest. He was breathing!
Gasping with relief, Danielle ran to him and knelt down.
A sharp smell floated up to greet her. The smell of alcohol.
Then she noticed the can in his outstretched hand.
A beer can.
“Billy?” she whispered. She tugged his arm. “Billy!”
He groaned but didn't move.
Billy didn't drink much, she knew. Just a beer once in a while. He never got drunk.
But how much had he drunk tonight? Enough to pass out in the hotel hallway.
Why? Danielle wondered. What would make a responsible guy like Billy suddenly do something like this?
She shook his arm again. “Billy, wake up!”
Billy groaned again. He turned his head, swallowed, and opened his eyes. “Danielle? What . . . what's up? I feel awful.” He choked out in a hoarse voice.
“You fell asleep in the hall,” she told him. “Come on, I'll help you back to your room.” She took his arm and tugged.
With great effort she got Billy on his feet. He squinted around the hall, his expression dazed. The beer can fell from his hand and rolled over the carpet.
“Why'd you drink so much tonight?” Danielle asked. “Partying?”
Billy shook his head. “A lot on my mind.”
“Like what?”
Billy didn't reply. Danielle guided him to his room.
He leaned against the door, still dazed. He stared at
Danielle, struggling to focus. Then he reached out and pulled Danielle close to him in a hug.
Danielle closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of his arms around her and his chin resting on her head. “This isn't like you,” she whispered. “Tell me what's wrong, Billy.”
“I wish I could.”
“Why can't you?” she asked. “It can't be that bad.”
Billy's hands tightened. Then he straightened up and pushed away from her. “You're wrong,” he told her. “It's much worse than you can imagine.”
“So tell me!” Danielle insisted. “Maybe I can help.”
“I want to, butâ” Billy broke off and shook his head. His hazel eyes darkened. “No. You can't help, Danielle. Just forget it, okay?”
“Butâ”
“I said forget it!” Billy snapped.
Danielle stared at him, startled by his sudden anger.
He muttered good night and stumbled into his room. Danielle stood in the hallway, staring at the closed door, thinking about Billy's troubled words.
In the distance the howling started again.
With a shiver Danielle turned and hurried back to her room.
Tomorrow, she thought, slamming the door behind her and carefully locking it. Tomorrow I'll be home with Aunt Margaret.
Tomorrow I'll be safe.
⦠⦠â¦
“You're awfully quiet, Danielle,” Aunt Margaret commented as she sponged off the counter after lunch the next day.
“Yeah, we're lucky!” Cliff snickered and tossed his rolled-up napkin at Danielle.
“Ha, ha, Cliff.” Danielle caught the napkin, jumped up from the table, and stuffed it down the back of her brother's T-shirt.
