Shadow Moon, page 9
After the last few stragglers wandered in and leaned against the back wall, one of the security guys shut the doors. My stomach clenched in response. The room warmed up rapidly. Along with heat came a mixture of odors created by too many bodies pressed together. Wet wool . . . stale sweat . . . onion breath . . . too much perfume. All of which made my stomach clench even more. Why did I feel trapped? I unzipped my jacket.
I glanced over at Nicole, hoping she wasn’t picking up on my tension. No problem. She was busy scanning the crowd, no doubt making sure none of her friends were present to see her with uncool me.
She pointed to an unassuming looking guy talking to one of the security guards. “That’s Pete Prather, the guy who bankrolled this deal.”
I stood so I could get a better look. In my mind, I’d pictured Prather as a big, strapping guy, befitting his role as Brother Jessie’s rich and powerful benefactor. I was wrong. Small in stature, Prather wore a drab, brown suit and white dress shirt. A beige tie was knotted around his pencil neck. With his wispy gray-brown hair and large square-rimmed glasses, he looked more like an accountant than a big time power broker.
“Are you sure that’s him?”
“Well, duh, I saw him on TV this morning.” Nicole continued to survey the crowd. “Hey, isn’t that your aunt?” She pointed toward the front of the room.
Sure enough, Aunt Sandra and Tiffany were in the front row along with some of Aunt Sandra’s friends, surprising, since they were all like charter members of the Peacock Flats Baptist Church. Gazing around the cavernous room, I spotted Cory Philpott and his buddy, Malcolm, aka MC.
Malcolm still hated me because of the bus incident. In his mind, the jet propelled blast leading to his embarrassing sidewalk splat was my fault. And, since Teagan was working on my behalf, maybe it was. Recalling Malcolm’s comment that day—Weird stuff happens when you’re around—I plopped down in my chair before he turned around and saw me. His presence made me even more uneasy. Oh great. Now there were two people here who hated me. Brother Jessie and good old Malcolm.
My heart thudded painfully against my chest. At least, I thought it was my heart. I found out I was wrong when Nicole turned to me, and the color drained out of her face.
She grabbed my arm and hissed, “Zip up your jacket . . . now!”
Chapter Fourteen
Frankly, I was a little sick of Nicole Bradford and her bossy attitude. Also, I had a major issue with people ordering me around. I jerked free and snapped, “Why?”
“Just do it.”
I glanced down and immediately saw the problem. Under my heavy jacket, I wore a pink cotton shirt. As usual, the moonstone and silver cross were tucked away inside the shirt. Hidden from view. Make that usually hidden from view. To my amazement, the moonstone was pulsating with a flashing white light and clearly visible through the thin material.
To be perfectly clear, I’d seen the moonstone glow. I’d seen a rainbow dancing on its surface. I’d felt its warmth against my skin. A flashing white light was not in its repertoire. Until now. I’d become the equivalent of a human lighthouse. Not only was the pulsing light visible, it was keeping perfect time with my heartbeat. I knew this because, when I spotted the problem, my heart began beating triple-time.
I gasped and clapped a hand over the flashing neon sign that was my chest.
“Zip it!” Nicole ordered again through clenched teeth.
“Oh, yeah,” I whispered, fumbling with the zipper on my jacket. My hands were shaking so badly, I couldn’t fit the zipper into its slot.
With a snort of impatience, Nicole batted my hands away and grabbed hold of the zipper.
“Hey, Nicole! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” Lexie, Nicole’s BFF, stood in the aisle, gazing curiously down at us.
Nicole abandoned my zipper and jumped to her feet, screening me from Lexie. “Oh, hi, Lexie. Allie dropped by and asked me to go.” She shrugged. “Nothin’ else to do, ya know?”
While Nicole schmoozed with her best friend, I pulled the two sides of my jacket together and stood. Ducking past the two, I said, “I need to hit the ladies room before the program starts.”
Just then, the lights dimmed, and the crowd fell silent. I scurried toward the bathroom. When I reached out for the door handle, a large hand encircled my upper arm and pulled me back. I squawked in alarm, my gaze travelling upward to the nametag pinned on the navy blue shirt of a beefy security guard. It said, “Hi, my name is Jed.”
Still clutching my jacket, I pulled away from him and huffed, “What’s the problem, Jed? Am I not allowed to use the restroom?”
His fleshy lips stretched into a grim smile, revealing large yellow teeth. “Make it quick. The program is starting. With the lights down, you might not be able to find your seat.”
I barely managed to restrain the hysterical laughter bubbling up in my chest.
Darkness is not a problem for me, Jed. I am a walking beacon of light.
I sobered quickly. “I’ll be fine. I’m sitting in the back row.”
Once inside the ladies room, I stepped into a stall, locked the door and unbuttoned my blouse. The silver cross Nicole’s mother, Melissa, had given me was upside down and not in contact with the moonstone. The moonstone setting was at twelve o’clock. Strange. Very strange. Before I left home, I’d checked to make sure the moonstone was at six o’clock and adjacent to the cross in order to set the force field which kept anyone but me from touching the moonstone. I hadn’t adjusted it since.
Bewildered, I perched on the edge of the toilet seat and thought about the situation. The moonstone hadn’t come with an instruction manual. I was learning its functions through trial and error. Could it spontaneously change its own settings? Nothing else made sense. And if so, why? My first guess didn’t make me happy. Maybe the moonstone could sense something bad coming. Maybe this was an early warning system. I’d felt out of sorts the moment I’d stepped into the building. Maybe that was the moonstone’s way of alerting me to danger.
Even though I was inside the ladies restroom with the door shut, I clearly heard a loud drumroll followed by, “And now, ladies and gentleman, please rise and welcome Brother Jessie Krieger of God’s Chosen.”
Thunderous applause followed. A feeling of escalating dread swept over me, stealing the breath from my body. Assailed by waves of dizziness, I hung my head between my knees and gasped for air. The moonstone flashed its alarm, pulsating in time with my heartbeats.
The word “alarm” was no longer a stretch of logic. I knew right then that the stone was working its magic. Think about it. I am the maid whose palm bears the sign of the star. The prophecy passed down through Kizzy’s family clearly said I was meant to have the moonstone. If the moonstone was tuned to me, then surely one of its functions was to warn me of danger. And Jessie Krieger most certainly represented danger with a capital D.
I should probably grab Nicole and run for the hills. But that was so not me. Moonstone warning or not, I had to see what Jessie and Carmel were up to. I stood on shaky legs and reset the moonstone, weaving its chain around and through the cross’s chain. That killed the glow. No way could they come apart unless I untangled them. In case that didn’t work, I zipped up my coat, even though I was already overheated.
I stepped out of the restroom into shadowy darkness and stopped, momentarily blind. When my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I saw Jed waiting for me. He flicked on a small penlight, and, once again, took my arm, guiding me through the foyer and to the open archway leading to the main room.
I didn’t appreciate being towed along like a dog on a leash, so I gave him my best shot. “Hey, Jed. There’s supposed to be enough light so people can see where they’re going. It’s the law. You guys could get a big fine.”
He gripped my arm harder than necessary. “I just follow Prather’s orders, little girl. You need to be quiet. Brother Jessie is giving the invocation.”
I resented the “little girl” remark, but chose to ignore it. The back row came into view. I whispered, “I know where I’m going. You can leave now.”
Jed grunted and released my arm. I slipped by Nicole and sat. She glanced over at me, checked out my chest and nodded her approval.
The crowd sat silently. All heads were bowed. Except mine. I was busy checking out Jessie Krieger. He was alone on the stage under a single beam of light, his image magnified a thousand times on the gigantic screen behind him. Dressed in a snowy white robe, he stood with his arms held high, head tipped back and his gaze fixed on heaven. He was clean shaven. His hair had been styled and gelled, except for one stray lock tumbling across his forehead, giving him a contrived boyish look. Bathed in white light, Brother Jessie looked like he had a direct hotline to God.
I breathed a little easier. Even though I knew what lurked beneath his public face, I’d rather not see it. I tuned in to his words.
“Grant us the power, oh Lord, to seek out those who would lead us away from your divine goodness.”
Seek out?
His voice deepened, and he boomed, “I feel their presence. Evil ones with evil ways. They may hide in human form, but they dwell among us. Demons. Witches. Those with unholy powers who practice the black arts. They must be eradicated before they corrupt the innocence of our youth. ”
The whole scene was so paradoxical and ridiculous I had to stifle a groan. Krieger had the perfect gig. Hiding in human form, he had an inside track in his quest for evil ones with evil ways. Takes one to know one.
Nicole reacted to the word “demon” with a hitch in her breath. I reached over and squeezed her hand. She leaned close and whispered, “Maybe we should leave.”
“No way. Bad timing.”
“It’s dark. Nobody will see us.”
Just then, Jessie said, “Amen,” and the lights came on.
Whew! Thank God Nicole and I were not in the process of tiptoeing guiltily out of the room.
Jessie remained silent. I suppose he was waiting for his words to sink in. It must have worked because people shifted uneasily in their chairs and started glancing around suspiciously at their neighbors.
Finally, Jessie held up a hand. “There are two people with us tonight who have been saved from the evil ones. One with the face of an angel. One with the voice of an angel. Both had fallen victim to the dark side, but are now among God’s Chosen. Would you like to meet them?”
The crowd applauded enthusiastically.
Carmel walked onto the stage holding a tambourine. She popped up on the screen, and I got a good look at her black pants, boots and a form-fitting, sequined pink tunic, cut low in the front. A silver cross, much like my own, nestled between her perky, pushed-up boobs. Her shiny blond hair fell in soft curls across one shoulder.
A young girl carrying an acoustical guitar trailed behind Carmel. Baggy jeans and a plain white tee hung loosely from her slender body. The girl’s face was ghostly pale. Her eyes were huge, dark and unblinking. Spiky black, purple and pink hair sprouted from her head like the Statue of Liberty’s crown. The camera panned in on the pentagram tattoo covering the side of her neck.
A guy with a stool scurried on stage. The girl climbed aboard and waited while Jessie pulled Carmel forward. Carmel tried to look angelic, but her smile looked more like a smirk. She needed one of those halos on a stick, like little kids wear in Christmas pageants.
Krieger said, “Meet Carmel Lovell. This beautiful young lady has overcome great hardship in her life.”
I looked at Nicole and whispered, “That’s crap.”
“She was raised in a home filled with pagan symbols . . . ”
Carmel lost the smirk. The corners of her mouth turned downward in a parody of distress. She brushed away a tear.
Jessie continued, “By parents who shirked their responsibility. As a result, this beautiful child of God became confused and wandered down the wrong path. Alcohol. Drugs. Unsavory companions. She was living a life of degradation.”
Carmel’s hand flew to her throat, and she bowed her head in shame, playing her role perfectly. If I hadn’t been so furious about the lies spewing out of Jessie’s mouth, I’d have laughed. After a few more jabs at Carmel’s “godless upbringing,” he got to the point. “Through the power bestowed upon me from heaven above, I was able to bring her into the fold. She is now one of God’s Chosen.”
With a radiant smile, Carmel clasped her hands together like a small child at prayer. The crowd went wild.
Nicole and I looked at each other, rolling our eyes in disbelief.
Carmel stepped back.
Jessie held out a hand to the girl on the stool. “Come forward, child,” he ordered.
Obediently, she stood, still holding her guitar. As she approached Jessie, she looked out over the crowd as if searching for someone. Her dark gaze scanned each row and stopped when it came to rest on me.
Uh uh. No way. I’d never seen this girl before. We had no connection. Why would she seek me out? Was she one of Krieger’s creatures?
Calm down, Allie. Your head’s messed up because you’re seeing two images. The real girl on the stage and the giant version of her on the screen.
Krieger’s words interrupted my thoughts. He pointed out the pentagram tattoo on the girl’s neck. “Ladies and gentlemen, meet Sammie Sullivan. Do you understand the significance of her tattoo?”
People around me muttered “Black Magic” and “Satanism.”
The color rose in Sammie’s face. A sudden flare of heat warmed my cheeks in response. A nanosecond later, my mind was swamped with a tsunami of emotions. Embarrassment. Simmering rage. Frustration. Shame. Each emotion cycled through my consciousness long enough for me to feel its full effect before giving way to the next. It brought back memories of a kindergarten incident. I’d been screwing around and the teacher made me stand in the corner. I was alternately ashamed and embarrassed while the whole class stared at me. It felt exactly like that.
I pressed my lips together to keep from crying out. What was happening? Fighting for control, I placed my hand over the moonstone. Even without looking, I knew it was doing its thing again. I could feel the pulsations keeping time with my heartbeat.
Was Nicole feeling what I was feeling? I glanced over at her. Obviously not. Slumped in her chair, she was gazing at the stage with a mildly interested expression.
A girl’s voice. Inside my head. He’s such a fake. I hate him!
Startled by the clarity of the words, I bit back a yip of surprise and gazed, wide-eyed, at the screen and into the big dark eyes of the girl called Sammie Sullivan. Was I feeling what Sammie was feeling? Hearing her thoughts? And, above all, why?
Chapter Fifteen
Shocked and confused, I stared at Sammie, all the while listening to Brother Jessie blab on about her conversion. He was on a roll, describing how he and Carmel met poor homeless, godless, starving, inked-up Sammie.
Actually, I could barely hear him. What I assumed to be Sammie’s thoughts were screaming in my head, the basic theme being, “Liar! Liar! Liar!”
Geez, I never imagined a person’s thoughts could be so loud. Her emotions were no longer scattered. Behind her frozen mask of a smile, she was just plain mad, and so was I. I took a couple of deep breaths, trying to quench the anger boiling through both of us.
Then I had an idea. I was picking up everything Sammie was broadcasting. Did it work both ways, like sending and receiving email? Could she pick up my thoughts and emotions as well? Worth a try.
I tapped into the power of my mind and focused on the words, It’s okay, Sammie. You know the truth. Let Brother Jessie’s words roll off your body like swift water flowing over stones. Stay calm. I hit the imaginary send button in my brain and willed the message to reach her.
Immediately, her shoulders slumped, and relief poured through both our bodies.
I had no idea what caused the psychic connection between us, but it was an exhilarating experience, right up there with TKP and stopping the world. I wanted to jump out of my chair, pump a fist in the air and holler, “Yes!”
Instead, when her eyes began to search the crowd, I sent a frantic new message. Do not let him know! Do not look for me!
Sorry! Her eyes swept right past me as if she was encouraging the whole crowd to connect to her. Gotta get ready to sing now.
Jessie concluded his story with a vivid description of his battle with Sammie’s demons, all of whom he’d dispatched to Hell before he’d welcomed her into the ranks of God’s Chosen.
Did I just hear Sammie snort in disbelief?
“And now, ladies and gentlemen,” Jessie said, “the newest member of God’s Chosen will sing for you.”
Sammie stepped to the microphone accompanied by Carmel holding the tambourine. Since this was a church service—even though it was fake—I sent up a little prayer.
Please God, don’t let Carmel screw up Sammie’s song.
I was expecting Sammie to sing one of the contemporary Christian songs popular with teens, but she surprised me. After a few opening chords, she sang an oldie but goodie. “Welcome sweet dawn, a gift from above. The sun’s golden rays bring His message of love.” I knew the song well, because it was one of Kizzy’s favorites. Ironic, since Jessie had implied Kizzy was a soulless witch.
Sammie’s voice swelled and filled the room with sound as pure as a mountain stream. Like wind sweeping through the pines. Like a liquid rainbow of sound. I wanted to lose myself in the experience, let it surround and lift me out of this place with its ugly accusations and suspicions. I couldn’t stop smiling as I experienced the joy pouring out of Sammie.
The singular beauty of Sammy’s voice and the song’s simple, uplifting lyrics swept away the oppressive darkness caused by Jessie Krieger’s message of intolerance. The contrast between the two was never more apparent than at that moment. Sammie was a beam of shimmering light. Jessie, with his predictions of doom and gloom, was all dark shadows.
