Shadow Moon, page 10
All around us, people wiped away tears. Carmel, biting her lip in concentration, only shook her tambourine a couple of times, mostly off the beat. When the song ended, the crowd rose, whistling, clapping and cheering. Brother Jessie agreed to an encore.
Sammie grinned and said, “Okay, people, here’s what I want you to do.” She slipped off the stool to demonstrate. Stomp, stomp, clap. Stomp, stomp, clap.
We all stood and joined in. After a couple of opening chords, Sammie picked up the pace and totally rocked out to an upbeat Christian song. I could hardly believe what I was hearing. Gone was the sweet, lilting tone she’d used in the first song. This Sammie sang in a husky voice, hitting the notes hard in a bluesy rasp, better than famous singers I’d seen on TV.
We stomped, we clapped and we all sang along when she repeated the chorus. “The wondrous magic of his love. Holy powers from above.” Carmel even got into it, shaking her booty and tambourine in time to the music.
I wanted to run to the stage and high-five Sammie when she finished. She’d picked a song with the words magic and holy powers—almost the same words used by Jessie in his fanatic rant—and twisted them slightly, transforming them into something uplifting and good. How genius was that?
After Sammie and Carmel left the stage, things got pretty weird. Pete Prather stepped to the microphone to begin his “testimonial.”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, in a voice so soft people fell silent and leaned forward in their seats, eagerly awaiting his next word.
I tried to puzzle out the why of it. Why were people so interested in what Pete Prather had to say? Was it because he was rich and influential? Or, were they hoping he’d dish the dirt about his daughter? Kizzy said the girl had taken off with a Mexican boy. Maybe this would turn into a lecture on illegal immigration.
But Prather had another agenda. “Do you know what the word supernatural means?” He spat the word like it had a bad taste. His gaze swept over the audience. “Supernatural refers to an existence outside the natural world. It’s not in accordance with the laws of science, societal norms, or, in my opinion, the ability to live a Christian life. You’re probably wondering what this has to do with my daughter, Emily.”
He paused for a moment to let his words sink in. “Emily was a sweet, loving child. Brilliant, really. Always reading well above her age level. We denied her nothing in the way of books. My wife’s idea.”
His voice grew stronger. “The trouble began after she read books about a boy wizard. My wife believed they were harmless. After all, my daughter’s teacher had recommended them.”
Whoa, was this guy a book burner?
“When Emily turned fifteen—” His voice broke. He removed his glasses and swiped at his eyes. “She got caught up in vampire books. You know the ones. The author depicts these creatures as beautiful young men, the very type teenage girls find so appealing. Emily couldn’t get enough of them.”
Okay, she liked to read. So what?
Prather’s pale eyes glittered behind his glasses. When he spoke, his voice was pitched low. “Listen carefully. I have a very important question to ask you.”
The audience leaned forward
“Do you believe supernatural beings are a work of fiction?”
Silence from the audience.
“If that’s what you believe, folks, you are dead wrong.”
Nicole stiffened at his words. Would Prather be pointing at us next?
Prather’s conclusion was a doozy. “Unfortunately, Emily did not understand the difference between fiction and real life. The truth is, supernatural entities do exist in our world. Not the beautiful creatures depicted in books and film, but evil beings attempting to lure our family members to the dark side. Emily met a young man and fell under his spell. She began to slip away from us. Now, she’s gone. Deep in my heart, I know she would still be here, safe in the loving arms of her family, if only we’d understood the danger.”
This was getting weirder by the minute. Granted, Prather was a total nut job, but did he really believe his daughter was shacked up with a vampire? Or was he trying to rationalize his failings as a parent? Maybe I was wrong earlier. Maybe this was Salem Witch Hunt Part Two, the Vista Valley version.
Prather handed the microphone to Krieger and left the stage. The crowd sat in stunned silence. Jessie spoke in an eerie whisper. “Yes, it’s true. Dark spirits dwell among us.” He paused and looked around the room. “And, it’s not just teenage girls who are seduced by them.”
He stepped off the stage and walked slowly down the center aisle, scanning each row. I felt the hair on my arms stand on end. Was he looking for people avoiding his eyes? Those with guilty expressions? A bunch of people squirmed in their seats.
Nicole leaned in close. I could feel her trembling. She whispered, “Um, this guy’s scary. Maybe we should get outta here.”
Without taking my eyes off Jessie, I said, “No way. I hope he comes back here. I’m up for it.”
I glanced over at Nicole. Her face was pasty white, her eyes wide with panic. She whispered, “Why aren’t you scared? What if he outs us to the entire crowd?”
I said, “He won’t. I won’t let him.”
It’s true, Jessie knew my secret, but I knew his too. That simple fact banished my remaining fear. That and the fact I was fed up with being scared. I focused on the power rising within me and felt it surge in response. If it came to a battle of wills, I would win. I was never more certain of an outcome in my life. Don’t mess with me, Jessie.
Nicole hovered over her chair ready to bolt for the door. I wrapped my fingers around her expensive leather belt and held on tight. If she took off, she’d be dragging me behind her.
“Let go,” she said.
“No way.”
We used our eyes to shoot daggers at each other. Nicole caved first. She bit her lip, rolled her eyes and slid back in her chair.
Krieger continued his slow stroll down the center aisle, presumably looking for those who were trafficking with the supernatural or, in our case, the actual creatures.
He said, “If you’re not aware of the danger, it can happen to anyone. Is one of your family members lusting after the devil’s own? Wallowing in cultural depravity?”
Nobody’s more depraved than you are, you phony jerk.
He was almost to the back row, his gaze darting back and forth.
Here I am, Jessie, the only one in the crowd who’s not scared to look you in the eyes.
I placed one hand over the moonstone. Jessie’s head whipped around. He spotted me and smirked. I was so ready for him. In my mind, I practiced my opening remarks, in case he decided to take me on. Ladies and gentleman, you are looking at a complete fake. He knows all about dark spirits because he that’s what he is. Look closely, and you’ll see what’s behind the mask.
I narrowed my eyes, daring him to challenge me. Power surged from the moonstone, joined with mine and became a living thing . . . strong . . . fierce . . . unbending. I knew the very second it slammed into Krieger. His smirk vanished, and the color drained from his face. He spun away from me and walked swiftly to the stage.
Nicole sucked in air and blew out a huge sigh of relief. “Now can we go?”
Before I could answer, Jessie said, “If you believe in our ministry, we would appreciate your financial support.”
Four people popped out of the front row holding collection plates, Cory Philpott and Malcolm “MC” Morris among them. Leaving wasn’t an option unless we wanted to look like total jerks. Frankly, I didn’t want to contribute one penny to Jessie’s ministry. But maybe Sammie would get part of the offering. I dug around in my purse and came up with exactly seventeen cents.
Naturally, Malcolm ended up on our side of the room, working his way down the rows. I knew the instant he spotted me. His anger and resentment simmered in the air between us.
I poked Nicole with an elbow. “FYI, this guy has a problem with me.”
Nicole, back to her usual spunky self, said, “Want me to trip him and accidentally step on his neck?”
Horrified because I knew she was capable of doing just that, I said, “No! It was just FYI. No action required.”
When Malcolm reached our aisle, the collection plate was overflowing with money. Nicole set her dollar on top of the bills and passed the plate to me. I slipped my hand underneath the folding money and deposited my seventeen cents.
Malcolm leaned over Nicole and got in my face. “I’m watching you, freak.”
“Back off, Malcolm. You don’t want to mess with me tonight.” Actually, I was out of juice after my confrontation with Krieger, but Malcolm didn’t need to know that.
“You’re supposed to put money in, not take it out.”
I didn’t have to do a thing. Nicole shot out of her chair, grabbed Malcolm by the ear and twisted. Her voice was pitched low but the menace was unmistakable. “Apologize to Allie.”
Malcolm gasped, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
I grabbed Nicole’s belt and tugged. “Let it go. He’s not worth it.”
Nicole didn’t budge.
A security guard appeared. “Is there a problem here?”
I thought Malcolm would say he stopped me from stealing out of the collection plate, but after a fearful look at Nicole, he said, “No sir. Everything is fine.”
After Jessie prayed over the money, Prather took the microphone and invited everyone to stay for hot dogs, chips and soft drinks. By this time, Nicole was practically dancing up and down in her eagerness to hit the road. She grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the door. Nicole is super strong. It’s that dang demon blood. I felt like my arm was clamped in a vice.
“Hold up a sec, Wonder Woman,” I squawked, stumbling along behind her. “I need to talk to that girl. Sammie. It’ll just take a minute.”
“Uh uh, no way.” Nicole dragged me outside into the crisp night air.
I slammed on the brakes. “Hey, look. Isn’t that Beau Shandley? Oh my God, I can’t believe the hottest guy in Peacock Flats is here.”
Magic words. Nicole’s head swiveled around so fast I’m surprised she didn’t get whiplash. She released my arm, dug a mirror out of her handbag and checked her hair and lipstick. “Well, if you absolutely have to talk to that girl, I’ll wait for you here.”
I beat feet back into the civic center. A line had formed for the free food, laid out buffet style on long tables. I saw my buddy, Jed, standing behind the hot dog table, probably checking to make sure nobody took more than one hot dog.
Carmel had joined Jessie on the stage. They were surrounded by a cluster of people, mostly anxious-looking females. Pete Prather was front and center, deep in conversation with a couple and their teenage daughters. I spied Sammie behind the stage, stowing her guitar in a black case, and skirted around the stage to avoid the dark presence of Jessie Krieger.
As I approached Sammie, I felt the heavy weight of a hostile gaze.
Malcolm. Watching me like he couldn’t wait to narc me out to Pete Prather. Corey stood next to the stage, surrounded by a cluster of girls, obviously enjoying his new studly status. He caught my eye and grinned. I smiled and waved.
Go figure. Former bully, Cory, had morphed into Mr. Sweet Cheeks and a babe magnet. No problem, though. His buddy, Malcolm, was more than willing to jump in and fill the void. One bully reformed, another created. I guess my teacher, Mrs. Burke, is right. Nature abhors a vacuum.
Chapter Sixteen
I cut through the crowd and made my way toward Sammie.
There was nothing normal about our situation. Sammie was a complete stranger, yet I’d known what she was feeling and thinking while on stage—except for why she was performing for Jessie Krieger. She was really ticked off at him. I knew that much. And his words had made her feel ashamed and embarrassed. So, why was she here, doing his bidding? Did she know his real identity? Was he using her to reel me in? I didn’t have an answer to either question. Nor did I know what I should do first. Shake her hand? Give her a hug? Or run the other way?
I stopped when we were face to face and we studied each other without speaking. Finally, Sammie reached out and waved her hand as if tracing the outline of my face. “I can’t believe it,” she said. “Your aura looks like a rainbow.”
I was so surprised, I snorted, which probably ruined the whole rainbow aura thing. “You can see my aura?”
She folded her arms across her chest and stared at me. “Yeah, and I’ve never seen one like it. So many colors.”
I shook my head. A rainbow? “So what does Krieger’s aura look like?”
“Black and stinky, like the gunk you find in the sink drain.”
My lips curved into a smile. “Stinky? You mean you can smell it as well as see it?”
“Nah,” she said. “I made that part up.”
She grinned, her eyes squinting in amusement. The smile totally changed her appearance. With her spiky hair and squinty eyes, she reminded me of the pixies I’d met in Boundless. Hmm, was I looking at another fae creature?
I extended a hand for her to shake. “I’m Allie Emerson. Carmel’s mother, Kizzy, is a good friend of mine.”
She gave my hand a brief shake and shot an anxious glance at Krieger. “Let’s find someplace to talk away from him.”
She picked up her guitar and took off toward the back of the building, pausing long enough to snag an oversized parka off the back of a chair. As soon as we stepped outside, she rummaged around in her coat pocket and pulled out a tin of aspirin. She popped a couple in her mouth and swallowed them dry.
“That dude gives me a headache,” she said.
“Why are you with him then?”
She shook her head. “It’s a long story.” Offering me the aspirin, she added, “Want one?”
I shook my head. “I’m good.”
She set down her guitar, leaned back against the wall and folded her arms across her chest. “So, Allie Emerson, what’s going on with us?”
We were standing under a security light fastened to the back wall of the civic center. The beam of light illuminated the pentagram tattoo on her neck, but her face was cast in shadow. I couldn’t see her eyes. She’d slid right past my question about Jessie, and though I wondered why, I decided to let it go for the moment.
I shrugged. “Beats the heck outta me.”
She tilted her head to the right and looked me over again. “Two weirdoes connecting?”
I laughed. “Could be.”
Now that she’d shifted position, the light picked up the dirty shoestring around her neck. Something—maybe a piece of jewelry—was hanging from the shoestring. It was tucked inside her shirt. Hidden from view. I fiddled with the zipper of my jacket and peeked at the moonstone to see if was behaving itself. It was.
Sammie blurted, “I could feel your heartbeat.”
Whoa, had the pulsations coming from the moonstone caused our connection?
I wasn’t ready to whip it out for a test run. Just because we had some kind of weird connection didn’t mean I could trust her. “No way.”
“Way. It felt like I had a second heart beating inside my chest. Could you feel my heartbeat?”
“No, but I could tell you were mad at Krieger.” I really needed to know why she was hanging with Jessie. “How come? I thought you were one of God’s Chosen.”
She hesitated before answering, like she was trying to decide whether or not to trust me. “I was in Pioneer Square in Seattle when Carmel and Jessie found me. Do you know Pioneer Square?”
“No.”
“All kinds of homeless people hang out there. I was playing my guitar and singing, you know, so I could get money to eat.”
“What about your parents?”
“My mom died when I was little. It was just my stepdad and me. I ran away a while back. It’s better this way.” She choked up and shut down. I tried not to feel sorry for her, at least until I knew she was for real.
She drew a shaky breath and continued. “I’d been doing that for a while. Singing for money, I mean, and sleeping in homeless shelters.” She shuddered. “They’re awful.”
“I thought living in a travel trailer was bad, but at least it’s just my mom and me.”
Sammie looked at me with new interest. “You live in a travel trailer?”
“Yep.”
“Anyway, Jessie started yelling at me about the tattoo and how I’d burn in hell.” She paused, looking embarrassed.
I thought about telling her she didn’t have to go on, but I dismissed that thought immediately. I needed to know. “So what then?”
“Carmel convinced Jessie they needed me in their ministry. After all, every good revival has music” She rolled her eyes. “And here I was, according to Carmel, with a voice like an angel and a pentagram on my neck. The perfect combination. Had to be a sign from heaven. Right?”
I snorted.
“So,” Sammie continued, “in exchange for food and roof over my head, I sing Christian songs and Jessie gets to talk about how he saved me.”
“Did he? Save you?”
The pixie grin appeared again. “No way! Do you think I actually believe his bullshit? I just don’t want to screw up a good thing.”
“You think this is a good thing? Brother Jessie’s a big phony. So is Carmel.” I slammed my mouth shut before I could say something better left unspoken.
She looked at her feet and muttered, “Yeah, well . . . ”
Okay, so that explained how she ended up singing for Jessie. That is, if she was telling the truth. “So, are you a witch?” I asked, switching back to our odd connection. “Is that how you sent me your thoughts?”
“I sent you mine.” She smiled. “And you sent me yours. Wouldn’t that make you a witch too?”
“Good point.”
“To answer your question, no, I’m not a witch. You’re probably wondering what I am.” She sighed, looking sad. “I’ve spent my life looking for an answer to that question. All I know is, I see things like auras.” She lifted her hands. “I’m different from other people. I got so sick of my stepdad calling me a witch, I got the tattoo to piss him off.”
