Wolf Moon Rising (46 page)

journey to visit my sister, but I have returned.”

Julia was poised on the landing, one hand on the banister,

and David blinked in amazement. He had always thought of

her as rather old- maidish- looking, but today she seemed almost

radiant. She was wearing her tweed suit, which complemented

her eyes, and her auburn hair was pulled back severely in a tidy

bun. She tipped her head in her superior manner.

“What seems to be the problem, David?”

“It’s Antoinette, Jackie’s mom. Th

ere’s something the mat-

ter with her. She’s dizzy and weak, and she just fainted.”

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“I’d be more than happy to go over and take a look at her.

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Let me get my bag.”

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She turned to climb the stair but stopped where a sharp ray

of sunlight pierced the stained glass window, casting a multicol-

ored rainbow on the balcony. She hesitated, and at that moment

Blair crossed the fl oor and held out his hand.

“Excuse me, Dr. Hoff man, before you go, may I introduce

myself? Dr. Nathanial Blair. I was here earlier, but we failed to

connect. I wonder if I might ask you something before you

leave. As a fellow physician and scientist.”

She turned slowly and looked down on Blair. Her eyes were

copper colored. “Why yes, of course. What is it?”

“Th

ere’s been an unfortunate murder in the basement—”

“Oh no . . .”

“And I believe it to be the work of a vampire.”

Julia made a hissing sound and pursed her lips as she jerked

her chin upward. “Th

ere are no such things.”

“But that is where you are wrong. Th

ere are vampires. And

I believe there is one living here, in this house.”

Julia fi xed Blair with a stony stare, as though she were mea-

sur ing his capabilities. “And what makes you so sure?”

“We have found the coffi

n and inside it was a dead body,

obviously an old victim, and this.” He held up a triangle of dark

cloth.

“What is it?”

“I believe it is part of the vampire’s clothing.”

Julia stared, her face impassive. “I really fail to see—”

“And then there is the new victim, the exterminator’s son.

First of all the head was—”

Roger interrupted. “Excuse me, Dr. Blair, but the details

are not necessary.”

“Alright. I’m simply relating the facts. And the proof.”

“Yes, and what is the proof?” Julia was becoming haughty.

“Th

e body was completely drained of blood.”

Julia waited, then said, “And this is the basis upon which

you make this ridiculous claim?” before turning her back.

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“Could it have been coyotes, Dr. Blair?” asked Elizabeth.

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Lara Parker

“Th

ere have been reports of a large and unusual band in the

forest around the graveyard.”

Carolyn looked up, her face stricken. “Several nights ago I

could swear I heard a wolf howling.”

“Well actually, Miss Collins, that’s the report I plan to

make,” off ered the sheriff . “Th

at it was a wolf. Wandered down

from the Canadian border.”

“How could it have gotten in?”

“Th

ere’s a window at the back of the basement—”

Blair broke in. “I simply want to say, to the sheriff and to

you all, that I mean to get to the bottom of this. And if any of

you know anything and are not telling me, when I do fi nd the

vampire— and I will fi nd it, be certain of that— I will report

that you are harboring a fugitive.”

“I resent your threats,” said David in sudden anger. “What

are you doing here? In our house.”

“I was invited—”

“Yes, I asked him to come,” said Quentin, “to . . . conduct

a— that is, another, séance.”

“And now he’s calling the shots? How does he get to do

that?” David’s outburst caused uncomfortable murmurs among

the family members, but Blair was calm.

“David, I’m here to help—”

“Don’t try to pull that on me. Nobody just
helps
. Everybody wants something and you’re no exception. You want to
use
us.”

He walked over and stood face- to- face with Blair. “Th

is is a

private family with problems that are ours alone. Do you under-

stand?
Ours alone.
You need to leave us in peace.”

Julia reappeared in a long coat, scarf, and gloves. “David?”

“Yes, sorry, Julia.” David turned to Roger. “Father, I don’t

understand why you put up with this kind of intrusion. All this

silly talk about vampires. Honestly. Tell him to go away and

write his book somewhere else.”

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Julia slipped into Jackie’s bedroom where the girl was asleep

next to her mother and removed the coat, gloves, and scarf

she had worn to protect herself from the cold, and the sun. She

looked over at Jackie questioningly.

“She took her medication,” off ered David. “It always puts

her out.”

“I see.”

Antoinette moaned and opened her eyes. “Dr. Hoff man?”

Julia leaned in and took Antoinette’s wrist in her hand.

“Yes,” she said. “How are you feeling?” She looked at her watch.

Antoinette jerked her arm away. “No. I don’t want you to do

that.”

But Julia was already leaning in with her stethoscope. “Just

relax. I’m here to help you,” she said. “How long have you been

feeling dizzy?”

Antoinette raised herself up and tried to get out of bed. But

she fell back again and groaned. “You are very pale,” said Julia

as she inserted the thermometer. “Have you been eating well?”

But again Antoinette had lost consciousness.

Julia looked at the thermometer and turned to David.

“I think it may be an infection. She has a high fever. Does

she have a wound anywhere? Or a cut?”

David hesitated, afraid of what he might reveal. “Uh . . . on

her neck.”

Julia drew back Antoinette’s hair and exposed the two

puncture wounds, well used and enfl amed. Almost inaudibly,

she caught her breath.

“I think,” she said evenly, “it may be sepsis. Possibly life

threatening. I should take her to the hospital.”

“We can call an ambulance.”

“No. I’m going in today already and I can check her into

Emergency. Since I am a physician registered there, it will be

quicker.”

Jackie slept peaceably, her eyelashes fl uttering in a dream.

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“Do you want me to come with you?” asked David, a little

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Lara Parker

reluctantly since he did not want to leave Jackie. She looked so

innocent and vulnerable, her migraine fi nally tamed.

“You really are a fi ne young man,” said Julia, replacing her

instruments in her bag. “Your father must be proud. Everyone

in the family should be. You will be the one who inherits the

estate and I believe you will serve it well. Unless of course you

jeopardize your future in an inappropriate marriage.” She looked

meaningfully toward Jackie; then, after gathering up her medi-

cal case and pulling on her heavy coat, she placed a hand on

Antoinette’s shoulder.

“Can you help me take her to my car?”

There was no road, but a vague snowy path through the

woods beneath the dark trees. As Julia drove she felt she

was entering a tunnel and then a cave. Th

ere was no sun, only a

pale orb in a sky grayed over with clouds, and when she stepped

from the car, it would have no power to burn her.

Th

ere was a stream here, but it was long buried, not even

the sound of trickling beneath the ice. Th

ere was a lake, but it

was a burnished gray sheet, wisps of fi ne ice dust whirling

across it. A mallard with a green head, separated from his fl ock,

chased his shadow across the frozen ice, caught it, and let it go.

And then the snow began to fall again.

Julia sat behind the wheel and watched fl urries spinning in

the trees. Her mind was a vortex of pain. She looked over at the

woman dying beside her on the seat of the car. Bitterly, she

stared as long as she was able at the emaciated, but still beauti-

ful face, the heavy blond hair, the closed eyes deep in their

sockets. She saw the resemblance to Angelique, the high brow

and the small chin. Th

en she convulsed and, her body heaving

with sobs, she wept but shed no tears.

When she opened the door to the passenger side, Antoi-

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nette fell out, her arms and shoulders fl opping onto the snow,

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her legs still in the car. Her head fell back and revealed her

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neck, the orifi ces gleaming crimson. She was still breathing but

Julia could see she would die soon. She could save her in only

one way— share her own blood— and that she would not do.

Another vampire? Never.

Reaching up under Antoinette’s arms, she pulled her from

the car until she lay sprawled in the snow. Her green dress and

scarlet coat were riotous against the white earth. Her yellow

hair spread like a stain. She moved one leg cramped beneath her

and her eyes fl uttered as she groaned, then opened them just in

time to see Julia descend, incisors fl ashing.

But she was a fi ghter and did not go easily. Finding some last

resource of strength, she cried out, scrambled from beneath Julia’s embrace, and lurched to her feet. She ran like a wounded doe,

crazily lunging and limping, thrashing through underbrush,

clawing her way in the drifts. Once she turned and throwing up

her hands pleaded, “No, please . . . Oh, God,” before spinning

and leaping again just out of Julia’s grasp. When Julia fi nally

brought her down she still would not give over, but fought for

her life with what little she had left, fi nally sinking her own

teeth into Julia’s hand over her mouth that was pushing back her

head and exposing her wounds. When helplessness came, she

heard words she did not understand,
You will never have him!

Never!
And then darkness closed in.

Barnabas managed to fl y, jerkily, tree, to tree until he reached

the cemetery. He opened the wooden door to the small

snowbound crypt and plunged his hands into the dark interior.

Frantically he felt over the stones and scratched his palms

across the dirt fl oor.

Impossible! Th

e painting was not there. With clumsy

thrusts, he scooped the leaves from the fl oor and cursed the rats

that scrambled over his fi ngers. Th

e crypt was empty! He had

seen the painting less than three weeks ago. He had uncovered it

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and held it in his hands, trembling under its power. He had

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witnessed its dev ilish transformations, and out of anger and

disgust he had ripped it in half against the stone.

He sat back, bewildered and panicked. Who had taken it

away? Who even knew it had been hidden in this insignifi cant

vault? He remembered hearing boys in the woods. Had they

been out robbing graves? Not likely in this weather. Perhaps

Quentin had been drawn to it since there was every reason to

imagine that it would call to him. If it were now in Quentin’s

possession, then he had no more need to worry. Th

at could be

the only explanation.

He was disappointed, robbed of closure. Nights of torture

had led to this uncertainty, not knowing if the werewolf would

come again to attack on the full moon. He rose and stood in the

graveyard, wondering what to do next. A fi ne snow was falling

so lightly, every fl ake hung in the air. Th

e woods were fi lled with

mist, the ground was powdered, and every tree was feathered. In

the dazzling haze it was hard to make out familiar shapes. Th

e

air was fi lled with tiny points of light and all was lost in a glittering fog.

He heard an automobile moving slowly along the road be-

side the graveyard, and at the thought of someone alone in the

twilight, his hunger returned. Wrapping himself in his cloak,

he hung back and watched as the car stopped and sat for many

moments while the snow fell upon it like sugar from a sifter. Th

en

a shadow of a woman emerged slowly and clumsily and dragged

something from the passenger’s seat before she disappeared. Th

e

snow whispered its own silence, as ominous as death.

He waited, breathing in fl akes, wondering what had be-

come of her. Th

e car stood darkly, barely visible.

“Good eve ning, Barnabas.”

He wheeled at the voice. So familiar. His heart plunged.

“Julia! My God!”