Under a Ghostly Moon (Jerry Moon Supernatural Thrillers Book 1) (35 page)

"
You guys are beginning to sound like the fucking Mafia," complained Sonia.

Uri paused with his coffee cup near his lips
.  "My dear, this is of great importance to us.  We live in relative comfort now, hiding in plain sight.  It is a long time since we've been forced underground, which is a much less pleasant situation all round.  We want to do what we can to prevent it becoming a necessity."

"
I suppose so.  I'd just be happier if you didn't have this sort of secret society that you've wrapped around yourselves.  It makes it hard to trust your motives."

"
Ah!" replied Uri, a dark hint of laughter in his eyes.  "You think it makes us seem mysterious and sinister?"

"
Well, not so much you - not now I know you - but the idea of such a closely knit family in this day and age… and one that has members in high places who’re all working to keep something secret.  You know..."

"
There are other families out there which are just as secretive and nepotistic, and who are working towards much worse ulterior motives, believe me!" said Roanne earnestly.  "…Most of the upper echelons of society for a start.  At least the Maddocks and the Llewellyns have fairly unselfish goals."

"
I suppose so."

"
So we're agreed that we'll do what we can to avoid drawing attention from this bunch?" Moon attempted to sum up their discussion.  "Sonia and I will do our best to throw them off the scent if they approach us for information and you'll do what you can to get information on them and their goals via your 'family' connections."

"
That is the general idea," agreed Uri.  "Can Ellie be trusted not to betray us, knowingly or unknowingly?"

"
She's a smart girl," replied Sonia reassuringly.  "And I'm taking the first train out tomorrow to visit her and bring her up to score."

"
Well, that seems to be the best we can do about this problem.  You must let us pay for your ticket, Sonia.  Rail prices aren't cheap these days."

Finally c
onfident that they had done all they could to handle this potential threat, the five friends settled down to a relaxed evening of drinks and movies.

"Am I mistaken or is there a distinctly Western theme to tonight's proceedings?"

The weeks passed quickly and soon it was mid August
.  Moon had virtually abandoned his flat to move in with Sonia and to escape the oppressive heat that accumulated in his south-facing bed-sit.  Sonia and Avril's place was more protected from the heat, being situated on the steep slopes where the Avon Gorge started to level off as it wound in the direction of Bristol Centre.  There had been no further sightings of the mysterious S Branch and it was beginning to look like they had been dismissed as innocent victims of the vampire cult.  Which he was sure was all for the best.

Uri
's sources had been able to glean a small amount of information, none of which painted a pretty picture of the S Branch, which had grown exponentially from its humble origins as a small research unit established during the Second World War to investigate the military potential of ESP.  These days their work was based in at least twenty research facilities situated at isolated sites scattered around mainland Britain.  The nearest of these was in South Wales, and it was there that the remnants of Rurik's cult had been taken, without trial, for reasons known only to the leadership of S Branch itself.  Moon shared Uri's concern that Rurik’s remaining fledglings had been ‘disappeared’ in this manner.  He was glad that the vampires' family connections provided them with a way to keep an eye on the activities of the S Branch.  They hoped this meant that they would be forewarned if the men in pinstripe suits decided that they were worthy of additional attention.  But with luck that would never happen - for now they would try to live their lives as normally as possible.

At eight thirty-three pm on Friday twentieth of August Moon walked into the courtyard of the Hangman's Rest.  He was wearing a long black satin frock coat, which had been made for him by one of Sonia's friends who supplemented her online copywriting and proofreading business by tailoring period and fantasy clothing for the Goths, re-enactors and role-players of the Bristol area.  Beneath this he wore a red silk shirt with frills spilling out at the collar and cuffs and black jeans tucked into cuff-topped knee high boots.  His hair was bleached blond and styled in a Manga-like shag cut and a small black dragon holding a red teardrop shaped gem dangled from his left ear.  His white face reflected the yellow of the sodium streetlights - a black crack painted artistically down one cheek made it look like a cracked porcelain mask.  In short, Moon was well and truly 'Gothed-up'.  He saluted George the hangman, who stood near the gates leering at any young women who passed by, and headed for the queue that led up to the door of the function room.  He noticed something a bit odd about the clothing of the people in the queue ahead of him, odder than the normal Goth oddness that was, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.

When he entered Avril was manning the ticket desk with Sonia keeping her company.  They were both in extreme Goth mode.  Avril wore a corseted gown of black taffeta, which was cut low enough to show a dark hint of areola where the neckline touched her breasts and to give her spider tattoo a bit of an outing.  Her hair was piled up on top and bulked out with extensions so a riot of nylon ringlets tumbled out from under what, despite all reasonable expectation, seemed to be a miniature black cow-girl's hat with a dark red ribbon tied round its crown.  She also wore cuffed gloves with silver pentacles at the wrists and Moon noticed as she moved to pick up the wrist stamp that her black velvet sleeves had long fringes dangling from them.  As Sonia stood to greet him he realised with some appreciation that she was wearing a black and red satin corset and very little else.  A wide crushed satin sash hung round her hips and was tied with a large, bustle-like bow at the back, which alternately hid and revealed the fact that she was wearing a tiny thong over her dark red spider-web tights.  Her long black hair was piled up and ringletted like a Victorian showgirl's and two long black ostrich feathers rose from the back of the elaborate silver headdress she wore.  The stiletto heels on her short, black, button-sided boots were long enough to almost bring their eyes level.  As they kissed he felt something heavy bump against his left thigh.  "What's that?" he asked, looking down with surprise.

When Sonia stepped back Moon saw she was wearing a red and
black garter around her right thigh with a tiny silver derringer tucked into it.  "It's okay, it's not real," she said, pulling the dinky gun out and firing it at him with a loud crack.

The sharp, sulphuric smell of percussion caps filled the air
.  "What's going on?" asked Moon.  "Am I mistaken or is there a distinctly Western theme to tonight's proceedings?"

"
Oh, wait and see!" said Avril excitedly.  "We've got something special planned.  It should be hilarious."

Moon looked quizzically at Sonia
.  "My lips are sealed," she said.  "I would have told you but you were working and I don't want it getting to the wrong ears now."

"
I'm intrigued.  But I guess I'll have to wait until whatever it is happens." He held his hand out to Sonia.  "Are you coming in?" Sonia glanced enquiringly at Avril.

"
Go on," Avril waved them away.  "Moz will be taking over from me soon and I can fend for myself 'til then."

Entering the function roo
m was like walking into an old-fashioned London smog.  "I think Bazzer's been overdoing it with the dry ice again!" explained Sonia, wafting her hand in front of her to clear the air slightly.  Bazzer was another part-time barman at the Rest, who also doubled up jobs as roadie-cum-soundman when they had a band night.  Moon could vaguely see his bearded and pony-tailed silhouette on the stage knocking several different kinds of hell out of the dry ice machine with a spanner.  The early crowd and the band were egging him on with helpful comments like "Fire!" and "I don't think it's dead yet, Bazzer!"

With a snort of disgust Bazzer finally disconnected the ageing machine, stood up and aimed a well placed kick at its side
.  "I reckon that's buggered.  If any of the bands on later want atmosphere they'll just have to make it 'emselves."

The first band on was a new group called The Hangmen, which included several of the Rest
's own staff.  The lead singer was Suzy, Moz's girlfriend who loomed in and out of the fake fog like a modern day Valkyrie.  Kate played a mean lead guitar alongside her and with two of the bar staff that Moon didn't know too well ('Bat' and 'Cider' were the two names that came to mind) playing bass and drums respectively, they made quite a respectable rock foursome.  Suzy's firm contralto had a uniquely raw edge that Moon thought was perfect for the Led Zeppelin style music they played.  Most of the songs were originals and he recognised Kate's acerbic wit in many of the lyrics.  "They're good!" Moon yelled over the mournful song of Kate's guitar.  "Is this what you were waiting for?"

"
No, that's later on," replied Sonia.  "Just enjoy the show for the moment."

Stoker's Kiss, who were topping the bill that evening, came on at ten-fifteen after a short bar break.  "Now, wait for my lead and do what I do," said Sonia.

Moon gave a puzzled nod,
"Okay, whatever..."

The band was as good as he remembered from the few times he had heard them play and he and Sonia were soon dancing
happily along with the rest of the audience.  Then Stroggy lifted the mike to his mouth and announced, "The next number is called Carpe Jugulum in tribute to Terry Pratchett's book of the same name.  It's a lively one so join in and dance along!"

Over
the appreciative response of the audience, Sonia yelled, "Now!" as she dragged him into line with Avril and Roger, who had already linked up arms with several others.

Moon vaguely noticed Kate and Mozz organising another
line behind them but he only had time to ask, "What the...?" before he realised that about ninety percent of the audience was performing a Country and Western style line dance to the song and dragging him along with them.

The band managed a few more bars but the music became more and more disjointed as the musicians broke down into fits of
laughter.  Eventually, Stroggy stopped singing and gasped over the mike, tears steaming down his face, "You bastards! Okay, we give in; this
is
a C&W number! Now can we get on with the gig?"

The audience stopped dancing and collapsed with laughter
.  "Well done, Stroggy, we thought you'd never admit it!" yelled Kate, twirling a silver six shooter.

"
It was worth it just to see you lot strutting your stuff!" replied Stroggy.  "Now, guys, reprise in a one-two-three-four!" And, as the band restarted the number, the whole of the Rest, including one or two of its more insubstantial regulars Moon noticed, linked arms and performed a near perfect line dance with the occasional fake firearm being discharged at the old oak ceiling.  This was likely to become a regular highlight when the Kiss played, Moon realised, as he bent to kiss Sonia and pinched her playfully through her spider-web tights.

Later, when the gig was over and Moon and Sonia were outside, he held her against him as they waited for a taxi.  "Tell me there'll be lots more nights like tonight," he said, nuzzling her hair.

"
As many as we can make, Jerry," she replied, turning to kiss him.  "Does this mean we're serious?" she asked, and he could feel the slight edge of trepidation in her voice.

"
As serious as you want us to be," he replied.  "You know I won't push you."

"
Well, I guess that means serious," she shrugged.  "I love you, Jerry Moon."

"
And I love you too.  So what comes next?"

"
We could get a place together." She smiled.

"
I guess so." He looked thoughtful for a second.  "There's only one problem..."

"
What's that?" she looked up sharply, searching his face for signs of lack of commitment.

"
Anna, who's going to look after Anna?"

"
Oh God, Moon! I'm sure we can sort something out.  Some people have trouble with in-laws but me? I have to share my boyfriend with a centenarian four-year-old!" She laughed.  "But I wouldn't have it any other way!"

As they got into the cab that drew up next to the pub
's gateway, Moon caught a vague glimpse of the moustached face of a man sitting in a black Mercedes parked slightly up and across the road from the pub’s entrance.  For some reason this dark-haired stranger, who had a slight military air about him, seemed oddly familiar.  He shrugged and filed the thought away for future contemplation.

Major James Hamilton released a sigh of relief as his two subjects rode away in their cab.  He thought he had been rumbled there for a moment, but it would seem that the male subject hadn't noticed that he had been keeping them under surveillance for several weeks after all.  As he drew away from the kerb to follow at a discreet distance he reached over and blanked the screen of the car's built in computer.  On its surface could briefly be seen the Ministry of Defence logo, which headed a standard report screen on which was displayed a photograph of Moon and the words:

Subject:
                              Jeremy Angus Moon

Age:
                                     28 years

Occupation:
                        Nurse, Bristol Royal Infirmary, Surgical Directorate

Recruitment
potential:       Ethically incompatible with S Branch directives

Status:
                                 Involved in Bristol Downs' Bunker incident

                                            
Potential threat to security or possible valuable

                                            
anomaly

Abilities:
                             Unknown - possible high level

                                            
psychic/psychokinetic

Plan:
                                    Investigate extent of threat and consider options of