Authors: Tamara Thorne
Mark Lawson awoke to darkness and a throbbing headache.
He was shivering from the cold and had no idea where he was.
The last thing he remembered was listening to his dad's message
on the answering machine
-
and that was it. There was nothing.
No, not nothing.
His mind cleared and he remembered smelling
chloroform. Someone had drugged him.
''Hello?" he said to the dank darkness.
There was no reply.
He realized he was sitting on damp, smooth stones and got
to his feet, slightly dizzy, and leaned against the wall, also of
dank, wet stone. "Hello?" he asked again.
He felt his way around the room, jumping when he heard
the squeak of a rodent.
Great, just great. A rat'll bite me and
I'll end up getting rabies shots, after all.
He kept moving and finally came to a door of heavy unfinished
planking that filled his hands with splinters. Gingerly he
felt for a doorknob, and his fingers came to rest on a cold metal
handle. He pulled with all his might, but the door wouldn't
budge.
"Help!" he yelled, pounding on the door. "Let me out of
here!"
He yelled and pounded until his hands and throat were raw,
but no one came.
"Quite a set of lungs on the Lawson boy,"
Dashwood
said,
as he turned off the microphone switch in his office.
Lucy's lip curled. ''I'll be glad to be rid of him. And his
disgusting father, too. But first we must get Sara Hawthorne
back here."
''Yes. That should be fairly easy. Why don't we just have
the sisters take care of that?"
"A compulsion spell?"
"Yes. That should work fine. You and I have better things
to do. Preparations to make for the black mass."
Lucy nodded. "I'll have them do it during the lunch hour."
"What if Lawson comes with her?" Dashwood asked. "By
now, he's discovered his son is missing. I took the backpack
so that he'll think the boy ran away, and I reset the answering
machine, but there's no guarantee he'll fall for it. I wish I knew
who he's already talked to."
"No matter. If he shows up today, we'll be pleasant, and if
he persists, Richard, we'll cloud his mind."
"Do you still want to kill him?"
Lucy rubbed her rosaries thoughtfully. ''Yes, but we might
want to wait a while so that no one suspects that we know he's
at least spoken to Cutter about his suspicions. For now, we'll
kill his son, and perhaps drive him mad with our friendly ghost.
Won't that be fun, Richard, darling?"
"I can hardly wait." He smiled. "I trust Kelly Reed is well
in hand?"
"The sisters and our novices are keeping an eye on her.
She's attending classes as usual and doesn't suspect a thing."
"Lucy, you're an amazing woman. I don't know how you
do it all. Spells, t
orture, administration, bondage
and discipline.
I'm in awe." He took her hand. ''Perhaps we should focus and
combine our energy again to replenish one another, since the
ceremony is so close."
"Richard," she said coyly, "you read my mind. I'll call
Sister Agatha and have her gather the sisters. Then you and I
can indulge ourselves." She smirked at him. "I'll meet you in
your apartment in twenty minutes. Make sure you have some
matches. I want to get hot."
They had been watching her all morning, but when the lunch
hour arrived, Kelly Reed was overjoyed to see that the nuns
had disappeared. Of course, Marcia Crowley and her gang of
twits had their eyes on her
-
no doubt under the sisters' orders
but
they would be easy to lo
s
e.
She went through the lunch line and sat down at the far end
of a table by herself to wolf down the tasteless food: macaroni
and cheese, lime Jell-O
, and puke-colored canned green beans.
She was hurrying because Sara Hawthorne hadn't been in class
today and she wanted to find out why. Finishing her milk, she
got up and turned in her tray, then walked toward the cafeteria's
back door.
"Hey, Ghost Girl," Marcia called in a singsong voice.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Kelly turned and glared at her. ''I have to clean the third
floor
bathroom. Do you want to help?"
"Gross," Buffy Bullock whined.
"We're supposed to go with her." Marcia didn't sound too
enthusiastic.
"Then
you
go," Buffy sniped back.
"Yeah, Marcia,
you
go," echoed a couple of the other girls.
Her face set in an ugly sneer, Marcia stared at Kelly. "I'm
going to come and check up on you in a few minutes, so you'd
better be there."
"I'll clean a toilet just for you," Kelly called, as she headed
for the door.
"Use your tongue," Marybeth Tingler called after her.
Kelly didn't respond. A moment later she reached the dorm
and went straight to Sara's third-floor room. She knocked.
"Miss Hawthorne? Sara? Are you okay?"
She waited a moment, then opened the door and walked
inside. The bed was unmade and Sara's robe and nightgown
were tossed across it. Her purse was on the table. Kelly thought
she must be on the grounds someplace.
She left the room and hurried downstairs. If anyone saw her
running around, she'd end up in solitary again, and she didn't
want that. She stepped outside and flattened herself against the
wall as Buffy and Marybeth passed by.
Kelly held her breath until they were out of sight, then
glanced at her surroundings. The big kitchen building was
nearby, and since the nuns weren't around, it would be the
perfect route out to the garage to see if Sara's car was there.
She knew it was more likely that Sara might be in the infirmary,
but she didn't want to risk looking there
-
at least, not yet. It
was too dangerous.
She sprinted the fifty yards to the old stone kitchen, then
around to the back. She'd never been inside; this wasn't the
cafeteria kitchen, but the monstrous antique one used by the
nuns to bake the pies and make jams, jellies, and candies to
sell at Apple Heaven.
Moving to a window, she peered inside and saw wooden
tables just under the window and ovens lining the far wall. A
long central counter was piled with large chunks of meat, and
the grinders
-
huge, old-fashioned ones with hand cranks
had
meat oozing out of them.
Gross.
But no one was around. Wherever the nuns had gone, they'd
left everything in a hurry. She moved to a door and tried it,
breathing relief as it opened. She slipped inside, crouching low
and listening, ready to bolt if anyone came along.
No one did. She crossed the huge kitchen and saw large pots
simmering on the stoves on the far walls. The place stank of
simmering meat, a cloying scent she had smelled on the wind
before. She despised it.
Flies buzzed around the top of an open garbage can and she
glanced into it as she passed. Kelly stopped in her tracks as
she saw a pair of eyes staring up at her. Dead eyes in a dead
'
face. The severed head of a man, one of the gardeners, gazed
blindly up at her. She caught sight of fingertips poking out
from beneath the bloody neck. Her stomach roiled, and she
couldn't move, couldn't think.
The slam of a door startled Kelly out of her paralysis. She
crouched and moved quickly toward the far door, which she
thought would bring her out fairly close to the garage. Behind
her, women's voices chattered. Someone laughed, high-pitched
and witchy.
Trying to push the grisly image from her mind, she reached
the door and turned the knob. It opened silently. She glanced
around, saw no one, and sprinted toward the small garage door.
She made it in a few seconds, and breathing hard, let herself
inside.
Dim
light bulbs
illuminated the long, gloomy building. At
the far end, sunlight shone through the open double doors. She
waited a moment, but heard nothing except a lawn mower
somewhere in the distance.
Keeping to the shadows, she walked through the building
until she saw Sara's car.
Okay, she's still here, for sure.
Kelly
shivered, thinking of what she'd seen in the garbage can, knowing
that the chunks of flesh on the counter and oozing out of
the grinders probably belonged to the dead man.
God, that's
the secret ingredient in their mincemeat pies
-
people!
Might
they have done the same thing to Sara? She had to find her,
and
fast.
She continued on toward the other end of the building, knowing
it was less likely someone would notice her if she went
back that way. Near the end of the building, she saw Dashwood's
black Beamer, noticed something bright red poking up above
the seat. She peered in the window. It was a backpack, with a
Hoot
ie and the Blowfish patch on it.
Mark's!
What was happening? Whatever it was, she knew she'd better
get help fast. Cautiously, she peered out the garage doors,
waited forever for a pair of nuns to walk from the chapel to
the school building. Finally they disappeared inside and Kelly
sprinted across the lawn, then raced past the chapel.
"Hey!" someone called. She glanced back and saw Marcia
running after her. Kelly increased her speed, racing through
the cemetery, and broke through the bushes, onto the road.
Marcia's voice was more distant now. Kelly crossed the road
and entered the woods, zigzagging through the trees until she
was deep in the forest. Marcia wouldn't find her now. She
probably wouldn't even follow her.
After resting a few minutes, she started walking. She'd check
Minerva's cottage first, since it was closest. If the house was
deserted, she'd go to the Gingerbread House, knowing Minerva
would let her call the police from there. Overhead, above the
trees, a nightflyer screeched. Another replied and a shadow
momentarily blotted out what little sunlight filtered through
the trees.
They're hunting for me.
The creatures circled, their
screams hurting her ears, and she crawled under a giant conifer
and waited until their calls receded into the distance before
moving on.
Sara Hawthorne had told John that Minerva was sure Mark
was at St. Gertrude's. He had thanked her, then asked her to
go back to his house and wait.
She'd been irritated as hell-
he was worse than Minerva.
He'd promised to take her with him to the abbey, but he'd gone
back on his word, saying instead that he would pick up her
property and tu
rn
in the letter of resignation for her. She'd
paced his living room for an hour and a half, wanting,
needing,
to do something.
Like pick up my own property and formally
resign. Right in Lucy's face!
Now she was in John's blue mini-truck again, driving up the
road to St. Gertrude's
.
She'd finally given in to the need to go
there, to pack up her things, grab Kelly, and get the hell out.
John would be furious if he found out, so she pulled the Nissan
around to the back of the abbey and parked in the first stall in
the garage, just in case he showed up while she was here.
She stepped out of the truck and locked the door, then turned
and found herself face to face with Richard Dashwood.
"Hello, Sara," he said, beaming at her. "I missed you."