Enter, Night (51 page)

Christina and Morgan stopped in front of room 938.

“This is the one, I think,” Christina said, trying the doorknob. It was
locked, of course, and the room was dark as all the others. “Jesus
Christ
!”
she shouted, kicking the door in frustration. Christina thought for a
moment, then said, “Morgan, stay right here. I’m going to break into the
office and get the spare key.”

“Mom, no! Are you
kidding
me? I’m not waiting out here!”

“You’re right. It was a stupid idea. Forget it. Come with me—but
stay close, Morgan, I mean it.”

The office, as it turned out, was not locked. It wasn’t even closed.
The office door banged in the wind. A cold cup of coffee sat atop the front
desk and the floor was littered with shards of broken light bulb glass. Her
foot slipped in a pool of something sticky and dark that she couldn’t see,
but which smelled like dirty pennies. She wondered what had happened
to Darcy Morin, then decided that she couldn’t bear the knowledge right
now anyway.

“Morgan, step back please,” Christina said, blocking the entrance to
the office with her body. “Stay in the doorway here, but don’t come in.
But stay close enough for me to grab you, OK, honey?”

“Mom, what is it,” she asked fearfully. “What’s in there?”

“Nothing, honey, just looking for the key to Billy’s room.” Privately,
she was grateful for the darkness—there was nothing she might stumble
upon here in the office that she had any desire to see in the light. Under
her breath she muttered, “935, 936 . . . aha! Got it!” She took the key to
room 938 down off the peg and stepped outside, taking Morgan by the
arm. “Come on, honey, let’s get warm! Hurry-hurry-hurry!”

Outside, she slipped the key into the lock of room 938.

Blessedly, there was a click. She pushed the door open and stepped
into the warmth of Billy’s room, which smelled of leather and pipe
tobacco and kindness, and when she switched on the light, it revealed
nothing out of the ordinary.

Billy found them
in his motel room an hour later with the doors
barricaded from the inside, a chair wedged up against the handle.

He peered in through his window. Christina was sitting on the bed
with her knees up. Morgan was in her arms, leaning with her head on her
mother’s breast. Morgan’s eyes were closed, but Billy doubted she was
sleeping. Christina’s eyes were trained on the door, wide open and alert.
In her hands was some sort of silver medal on a chain.

Billy could spot a St. Christopher’s medal at thirty paces. All of the
children at St. Rita’s were given one and had been expected to wear it all
the time.

Ironic
, Billy thought.
For the first time in my life, it would have come in
handy.

He looked down at his clothes and wondered what sort of a picture
he would present if he knocked on the door of his own motel room and
asked Christina to let him in. Not a good one, he expected. He stank,
and his clothes were covered with dirt and blood. He looked down at his
hands, which were the colour of coal dust.
I could just leave them in there
and not knock. They’d probably be safe
. Then he shook his head and sighed.
Of course they wouldn’t be safe in there. They’re completely unsafe in there.

He knocked on the motel room door and called out, “Christina?”

From inside, Christina’s muffled voice: “Billy, is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said. “Let me in.”

Christina opened the door
and fell into Billy Lightning’s arms. She
hadn’t intended to fall into his arms, or any man’s arms, especially not
in front of Morgan. But the momentum of her own relief propelled her.

Billy was solid and real and reassuring, and his presence was warm
and strong. Christina was tired of being the strong one, and she was dead
tired of being afraid.

“Billy, what’s that smell?” She pulled away, wrinkling her nose in
distaste. Her eyes widened as she took in his appearance. “Jesus, what
happened? Were you in an accident? Are you all right?”

He stepped back, away from her. “Sorry. I should have warned you
about that. Look,” he said, pointing at her. “I’ve gotten you dirty.” He
reached out to brush the smear of dirt off her pale pink sweater. “Here,
let me.”

Christina’s eyes darted to Morgan on the bed, who was watching
their interaction with wide eyes, silently. Christina shook her head
almost undetectably at Billy, who understood. “No, I’ve got it, thanks,”
she said, brushing the ash off the sweater herself.

“Of course,” he said politely. “Yeah, that’s it. There, you’ve got it.”
She smiled, grateful for his understanding.

“Billy. What happened to you? When you weren’t here, we took the
key from the front office. Mr. Marin wasn’t there—no one was there.
The whole place is empty.”

“Marin is down at the old hockey arena,” he said. “The one on
Brandon Nixon Road. So are Elliot and Sergeant Thomson, and about
thirty other . . . residents of Parr’s Landing.”

Christina was confused. “What do you mean, they’re at the arena?”
She shook her head. “The old arena? The
Takacs
one? Is that even still
standing? Elliot and Jack used to play there. It burned down. It’s a ruin.”

“It’s more than a ruin, Christina,” Billy said. “It’s a grave.”

“Billy, what are you talking about?”

He glanced at Morgan, then back at Christina. “Maybe not here? Outside?”

From the bed, Morgan’s voice was surprisingly strong and clear. “Dr.
Lightning,” she said. “Finn’s dead. Uncle Jeremy’s dead. I saw it happen
with my very own eyes. Please tell my mom what you’re talking about.
I’m never going to forget the things I saw tonight, and
words
aren’t going
to scare me.”

Billy sighed. “OK, fair enough. I found the place they were all . . . uh
. . . sleeping. The . . . uh . . .” He faltered, looking helplessly to Christina
for help, adult to adult.

“The vampires,” Morgan finished impatiently. Her face was pale and
hard, her mouth set in a steely line Christina had never seen before. “Finn
said they were vampires. He knew what they were, but nobody believed
him because we all thought he was just a dumb kid who read
Tomb of
Dracula
comics. And now he’s dead,” she added flatly. “And it’s our fault.
And now we believe him. And now it’s too late.”

“OK, vampires,” Billy said. “I found them there. It was everything
Finn said it would be. Also, I found Richard Weal. I was right. He killed
my father and stole his manuscript. Weal said he came here to wake
someone up, someone who had been sleeping here in the caves. Those ‘voices,’ in 1952? He wasn’t imagining them. They were real. Probably
all
the people who heard them were really hearing them.”

“The priest,” Christina said suddenly. “He looked like a priest. The
one who carried Finn away.”

“What priest? What are you talking about?”

Christina replied, “They killed Jeremy, him and Adeline. When
we found him in Adeline’s room, there was someone else there. An old
man. I’d never seen him before. He was in a long black robe. I remember
thinking he looked like a picture of one of the Jesuit martyrs in the
church here. The ones who came here to settle. The ones who died here
three hundred years ago.”

Billy said, “Figures it would be a goddamn priest.”

Morgan watched Billy carefully.
She said nothing, but every nerve
in her body was stretched as taut as wire. Something about him wasn’t
right. He was different. Maybe not
different
like Adeline was different
. . . afterwards. Not quite, anyway. But she wished he wasn’t standing so
close to her mother.

“We need to get you two someplace safe,” Billy said. “At least until
dawn. Then you have to leave. You have to leave Parr’s Landing. You have
to drive to Toronto and you have to not look back. Never, ever come back
here, Christina. I mean it.”

“I don’t think the car will survive the trip, Billy. Adeline’s chauffeur
has the keys to her car, and he and his wife are missing, too. And Jeremy
said he found some money in Adeline’s room, but he didn’t give it to me
before he . . . well, before what happened.”

Billy fished in his pockets and handed Christina the keys to his
truck. “Take the Ford,” he said. “It’s practically new. It’ll get you home to
Toronto. And there’s about seven hundred dollars in the glove box. Take
it. Just promise me you’ll go. Get Morgan away from here.”

“You mean ‘we,’ don’t you? You don’t mean
without you,
do you,
Billy?”

Billy’s expression was unreadable. “I can’t leave,” he said.

“What do you mean you can’t leave? Are you kidding me?” Hysteria
made Christina’s voice shrill and jagged. “You
can
leave. You
have
to leave!
There’s nothing here for you! Nothing!”

“Weal came here because of my father,” Billy said. “All these people
are dead because of him. We brought Weal here in 1952 and put this all
in motion. The arena was full of those things when I got there tonight.
Who knows how many of them there are here, or what they’ll do. I can’t
leave. I have to fix this. I have to find the one who did this and make it
right. For my father’s sake, at the very least. But I won’t be able to do it
unless I know that you and Morgan are safe, and a long way from here.”

When she started to protest, Billy put up his hand. “No more talk,”
he said. “Get Morgan ready. I’ll bring the truck right to the entrance here.
I’m taking you to the church. When the sun comes up, leave. Don’t look
back.”

“Dr. Lightning,” Morgan said. “May I ask you a question?”

“What is it, honey?”

“You said that they were in the arena when you got there. How did
you get away?”

“I burned them,” Billy said. “I burned their bodies. Just like Finn
said, fire hurts them.”

Morgan sounded dubious. “You don’t smell like smoke. And . . . they
just
let
you?”

“They weren’t awake yet,” he said vaguely. “Not all of them, anyway.
I guess the sun wasn’t all the way down. Don’t worry, I took care of it.
Now,” he said. “No more talking. We need to get you two to the church.”
He held up his hand again. “I mean it, no more questions,” he said gruffly.
“It’s time to go, ladies.”

He’s lying,
Morgan thought, but Christina was already pushing her
out the door of the motel, and Billy had sprinted ahead and was standing
by the door of the truck.

Billy drove the short distance
between the Gold Nugget and the
church in complete silence, looking neither left nor right. The beams
of the truck’s headlights carved a tunnel through the shadows and the
snow, which had grown thick and heavy in the hours since they’d arrived
at the motel. On either side of the road, houses like empty husks took
momentary shape, then vanished back into the night and the falling
snow.

Billy parked the truck in front St. Barthélemy and the Martyrs. The
steps leading to the front door and the sanctuary were packed in wet
snow. Gusts of it capered in the yellow light above the entrance to the
church.

“End of the line,” he joked. “This is where everyone gets off.”

“Billy—?”

“Mom, come on,” Morgan’s voice was urgent. She didn’t look at Billy. She opened the side door of the truck and jumped out. She grabbed at her
mother’s arm and practically pulled her out. “I want to be in the church.
Right
now
. Please.”

“Morgan, you go on inside,” Christina said, shaking off Morgan’s
hand on her arm. “Wait for me. I want to talk to Billy for a minute.”

“Mom,
no! Now!
” Morgan shouted. “I’m
not
going in without you!
Don’t talk to him!
We don’t have time!” Morgan stared defiantly at Billy.
He looked back at her. Wordless communication passed between them.
Then Billy looked away.

“She’s right, Christina,” Billy said finally. “Go inside where you’ll be
safe. It’s open. Get some sleep. Then, tomorrow, take my truck and go.”

Christina pleaded. “Stay with us. Come inside and wait until sunrise.
Then leave with us in the morning. There’s nothing for you here.”

“Mom,
please
!”

“Goodbye, Christina,” Billy said. “I have to go back.” He stepped away
from the church, out of the ring of light, and walked into the shadows
beyond it.

A trick of the lamplight,
Christina thought.
I can still see his eyes
. Then
Billy Lightning was swallowed wholly by the darkness.

Morgan woke to the sound
of rocks falling on the stained glass
windows.

The sound startled her and she sat up. Then she remembered.
Oh
yes,
she thought.
We’re in the church. They can’t get us here. That’s why we’re
here.
She looked at her watch. It was four o’clock in the morning. Dawn
was still three hours away.

Beside her, Christina moaned softly in her sleep and turned over.
She’s dreaming,
Morgan realized. She reached out and gently touched
Christina’s blonde hair. Her mother’s eyes were ringed with blue-black
circles, and the skin on either side of her nose was dull red and raw in
the dim overhead lights of the church. Christina looked exhausted.
Morgan wondered why she hadn’t noticed it before. Then she realized
why—Christina hadn’t
wanted
her to see it. Her mother had been trying
to protect her in every possible way since they’d arrived in Parr’s Landing.
But in sleep, the lie failed and her face told the truth.

The scattershot of stones on glass came again.

Morgan reached over and shook her mother’s arm. “Mom? Mom,
wake up. There’s someone outside. I’m scared.”

But Christina slept on, oblivious. Morgan held the St. Christopher’s
medal tightly in her hands. The silver was warm, and comforting
somehow.