Daughters of the Moon, Books 1 - 3 by Lynne Ewing
“I’ve come to help you get Catty back.”
“How?”
“Next Saturday, during the dark of the moon, I’ll take you to her.”
“If you know where she is, why can’t we go now?” she demanded.
“It must be during the dark of the moon,” he explained.
“Why?”
He looked at her, then his hand gripped the back of her neck and forced her to look into his blue eyes. A black emptiness seemed to be voraciously trying to drag her in. His thoughts touched hers and then she knew. She pulled away. Everything Maggie had told her was true.
“Because my power is weakest then,” she whispered in disbelief and wonder. “And you . . .”
“Yes.” He nodded. “I am a Follower.”
“You have Catty?”
“If you want her back, you’ll go with me and surrender your power to the Atrox.”
“My what?”
“Do you want me to say it?” he breathed into her ear. “Your invisibility.”
She nodded.
“I’ll be waiting around the corner from your house at the lost soul’s hour.”
“Which is . . . ?”
“Goddess, don’t tell me you don’t know?” He said goddess as if it were her rightful name.
Her hands started trembling. “I don’t.”
“The deepest part of night, two hours before it dawns.”
She watched him walk away. The shadows closed around him. Disbelief mingled with her fear. This was crazy. What Maggie had told her couldn’t be true, and yet it was.
She started up the hill. She hadn’t gone far when she heard whimpering. At first she thought she was mistaken but the sound came again, a definite human lament. She pushed through gluey cobwebs and tripped over something large and soft.
“Morgan?” she whispered.
“Vanessa?” Morgan flicked on a flashlight hooked to her key chain. A tiny beam of light circled them. The air around Morgan felt thick with sadness. She looked as if she was about to cry, and then she grabbed Vanessa’s arm and did. The tears fell warm on Vanessa’s skin.
“Something’s wrong,” Morgan finally said when she stopped crying. “I feel . . . so . . . empty.”
“It’s all right,” Vanessa soothed, her own voice as thin as a ghost.
“I’m cold, so cold.”
Vanessa took off her jacket and wrapped it around Morgan. Her skin felt rough with goose bumps.
“Did Stanton do something to you?” Vanessa asked when Morgan had finished crying again.
“Stanton?” Morgan echoed. She brushed her hand through her hair. Bits of leaves and dirt clung to her forehead. She didn’t wipe them away.
“His friends—did they do something?”
“Who?”
Vanessa sat down beside her and put an arm around her. “Can you walk?”
“Maybe,” Morgan said, but she didn’t move. Even the smallest task seemed to require too much effort.
Vanessa stood, took her hand, and helped her to her feet. Dry grass and dirt covered her boots and thighs. “I’ll take you home.”
She and Morgan struggled up the steep slope. The wind had shifted and Vanessa could smell the salt spray on the damp air rolling in from the beach. She had a strange feeling that something had cut through the air and ripped a curtain between reality and another plane. And she had entered a shadow universe that few people see.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
AN HOUR LATER, Morgan sat at the table in her mother’s blue kitchen, a yellow afghan wrapped around her shoulders. Vanessa warmed a cup of milk in the microwave and set it on the oak table in front of her.
Morgan’s housekeeper, Barushe, sat in a rumpled green robe at the opposite end of the table, staring at the wide plank flooring. Her round face said she was still trying to cast off the last remnants of a dream. Then she looked at Morgan and her kind eyes filled with understanding. She kissed the gold crucifix hanging around her neck.
“Can you call her parents and tell them they need to come home?” Vanessa asked.
“I’ll call them.” Barushe nodded and went to the phone.
Morgan sipped the milk. She held the cup with two hands like a small child and looked at Vanessa with a strange faraway stare.
Vanessa left through the back door. She followed the gray stone slabs around the swimming pool. The water echoed the moon’s glow, adding gentle ripples to the reflection. She walked through the pool house. The scents of chlorine and wet bathing suits held the night until she opened the iron gate and stepped into the alley.
By the time she turned the corner to Maggie’s apartment a line of deep gray pushed against the horizon, lifting the night. Men and women in bathrobes walked their dogs and sipped steaming cups of coffee.
She pushed the security button at the door to Maggie’s apartment.
“Yes?” A voice came over the speaker.
“It’s Vanessa.”
The magnetic lock buzzed. Vanessa opened the door and hurried inside.
Maggie was waiting for her on the fourth-floor landing when the elevator doors slid open. She wasn’t disguised as a retired schoolteacher this time. Her pale moon-blond hair curled around her head like a halo. She was more beautiful than Vanessa remembered.
Maggie smiled. “I knew you’d be back. Now, tell me what has happened that made you believe.”
Vanessa told her about meeting Stanton and finding Morgan as they walked down the balcony to the apartment.
“Does that mean Morgan will become one of them now?”
“No, she can’t become one simply by having hope taken from her,” Maggie explained as she opened the door. “The Atrox doesn’t come as a vampire does. Its victims must choose to be Followers.”
Maggie and Vanessa entered the apartment.
“Unfortunately,” Maggie continued, “evil is an easy choice once hope is gone. Without hope, people become desperate to escape the pain. They seldom see the rhythms in their own lives, how dark phases come before new beginnings. The victims seek the evil of the Atrox because anything feels better than the absolute nothing with which they are left. Violence confirms their existence and evil becomes their way of life. They can become very powerful and very dangerous. And, of course, the Atrox rewards their evil doings. Immortality is one gift it bestows. Now, sit down while I get us some chamomile tea.”
Maggie came back from the kitchen, carrying a tray with a steaming teakettle and two cups. She poured hot water over yellow flowers in a strainer. “The dark of the moon is a time too dangerous for you to meet any of the Followers. I absolutely forbid it.”
“I have to do something.” Vanessa had thought Maggie would tell her all the secrets and send her charging back to rescue Catty.
“I know you’re concerned for Catty. So am I. But you must take great care. These creatures of the Atrox are strongest during the dark of the moon when your power is weakest.” She handed Vanessa a cup of tea. “They have power to steal your thoughts, your dreams, your hope, and they can imprison you in their most evil memories. During the dark of the moon you won’t be strong enough to resist their mind control.”
Maggie sipped her tea, then added, “I must caution you—if they can stop one Daughter . . . eliminate her, then the power of all the Daughters is greatly weakened.”
“But they already have Catty,” Vanessa insisted.
“Yes, so there must be a reason the Atrox needs you,” Maggie reasoned. “The Followers are probably holding Catty as a way to capture you. Perhaps, the Atrox has seen something in your future.”
Maggie was thoughtful. “I had always thought it would be Serena because her power is so similar to that of the Followers. She can penetrate minds and see things people keep hidden even from themselves. But maybe . . . maybe it is you, Vanessa. Maybe you are the key, the one who will find the way to wipe out darkness permanently.”
“Then why didn’t they kill me before?”
“Kill you? No, my dear, the key can turn bo
Vanessa felt a chill pass through her. “How do I defeat it?”
“Simply by being on the side of good. It’s water on a flame, when someone laughs or loves or sings with joy.”
Vanessa wanted a simple answer. A silver bullet, a stake through the heart, something definite and precise, but could she do that? Kill? She hesitated a moment, then spoke. “I could never kill anything.”
“No, of course not, we never use the tools of the Atrox. Violence only feeds the Atrox. The Followers grow stronger when people use the tools of the Atrox to fight. They become utterly invincible then, because you have unwittingly chosen evil as your defense. You are a force of good. You must always remember that.”
“But how can I defeat something if I can’t fight it?”
“With the power inside you. As a Daughter of the Moon, you will know intuitively when the moon is full. So take heart, be brave. It will come naturally to you.”
“Then I’m dead for sure,” Vanessa mumbled. “Nothing has ever come easy for me.”
“This month has a Blue Moon, a fairy night. We’ll bring Catty back then. I promise. Now run along home and be safe. Take no chances while I make plans.”
“But what will happen to Catty if I wait?”
“If they keep her long enough, I suppose she could willingly turn. But you must promise me that you won’t do anything.”
“I thought I was supposed to save the world from the Atrox?”
“Yes, but you are too vulnerable during the dark of the moon. And this Dark moon is especially bad coming in the tenth month of the New Millennium It is the Blood Moon. Very risky. Promise me!”
Vanessa hesitated. “I swear.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
BY THURSDAY VANESSA was seriously worried about Morgan. She hadn’t come to school, and today was the day they were supposed to sign up to decorate for homecoming.
After school, Vanessa stopped at a newsstand on Fairfax. She bought Morgan’s favorite magazines and then caught the bus to her house.
Barushe answered the door. She had a strained look of fear on her face. “I’m glad you’re here. Her parents can’t come home until next week.” She glanced up as if she expected Morgan to suddenly appear at the top of the stairs.
“How is she?”
“I’ll show you,” Barushe said. “Let me get her tea first.”
Vanessa followed Barushe to the kitchen. She had fixed a tray with lemon tea and cookies.
“We’ll use the back stairs.” Barushe motioned with her head as she picked up the tray.
Vanessa followed her up the narrow winding staircase that led upstairs from the pantry next to the kitchen.
At the end of the hallway Barushe pushed a door open with her foot and led Vanessa into Morgan’s bedroom. The first thing she noticed was the odd smell. Barushe had placed bouquets of wild mountain thyme in glass jars and strung garlic across the windows and around the iron bedpost. Barushe came from Romania. Maybe she thought Morgan had fallen prey to a younger evil, one for which garlic and thyme were charms.
Morgan lay in bed, a pink quilt wrapped around her in spite of the heat. Her hair was swept up in a knot on the top of her head, and without makeup she looked pale and childlike.
Barushe set the tray on the bed. “A friend has come to see you.” Barushe glanced worriedly at Vanessa, then left the room quickly and closed the door behind her.
“Hi, Morgan,” Vanessa said, her voice overly cheerful.
Morgan stared at her, eyes flat. “Hi.” She turned her head and a strand of hair fell in front of her eyes. She didn’t brush it away.
“I brought you some magazines.” Vanessa placed them next to the telephone on the night-stand. The red digital light flashed thirty-two messages. That explained why Morgan hadn’t called her back.
“You’ve got calls,” Vanessa pointed out. “Don’t you want to hear them?”
Morgan shrugged. “Whatever.”
A reflection of sunlight caught Vanessa’s eye. She looked down. A razor blade sat in the ring holder next to the telephone. She glanced back at Morgan. The covers were too tightly wrapped around her to see if she had tried to cut herself.
Vanessa sat on the edge of the bed.
“We missed you at school,” Vanessa tried again.
Morgan didn’t answer.
“Do you remember anything that happened?”
“I,” she started, and then looked out the window before she continued. “I was dancing and . . .”
“And?”
“I think.” She sighed. “I don’t know what to think. What does it matter anyway?”
“I want to help you.”
Morgan looked at her. Her dull eyes seemed unable to focus. Her hand reached out from the covers for the tea. Thin brownish-red scabs sliced down her wrist.
She saw Vanessa looking at the cuts as she sipped the tea.
“I can’t cry anymore,” she whispered, as if that explained the marks on her arm. She set the cup down and studied the ragged lines on her skin.
“Has Barushe seen the cuts?” Vanessa’s uneasiness was rising. What had Morgan tried to do? Her concern quickly turned to self-blame; she should have come over sooner.
Morgan looked confused for a moment, then a slow smile crept over her face. “Barushe keeps looking at my throat for puncture wounds.” She tried to laugh but the sound came out wrong. “You think that’s what she told my parents?” Morgan said. “Is that why they haven’t come home? They think Barushe is being hysterical?”
“Why don’t you call them?”
“Maybe later.” Morgan sighed. “What’s the use?”
Vanessa took Morgan’s hand. The skin was wet and cold. “Remember when you talked to me about Catty over at Urth?”
Morgan shook her head.
“You said you’d want everyone to keep trying to find you if you were missing.”
“So?”
“So I’m going to keep trying to find you until I get you back. I have a friend who might be able to help.”
Morgan’s eyes shined with tears and her chin quivered, but then her face hardened. Her lip raised in a show of contempt. “No one can help me.”
“She can,” Vanessa insisted. “Let me help you get dressed and we’ll go visit her. She opened the closet door, turned on the light and walked in. The clothes were arranged by colors. Long shelves held shoes, sweaters, and purses. She grabbed a gray hooded sweatshirt and black flared pants and brought them back to the bed.
“Put these on,” Vanessa instructed. “I’ll go talk to Barushe.”
Morgan looked at the clothes as if she didn’t understand.
“Dress,” Vanessa explained.
“Get my five-pocket carpenter’s,” Morgan ordered.
“You got it,” Vanessa said, and smiled with confidence. If Morgan could think about clothes, she wasn’t completely lost. She hurried into the closet pulled the denim pants from a hanger and brought them back.
Morgan took the pants and stared at the brass button, zipper, and tie as if she were trying to recall how to work them.
Vanessa hurried back downstairs. Barushe was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs.
“I am so grateful you came to see her,” Barushe said. “Her other friends—”
“Other friends? Who?” Vanessa was suddenly alert. Morgan was popular. She had lots of friends, but they weren’t close friends who would worry about her absence at school.
“Tymmie and Cassandra,” Barushe said. “I think the other one’s name is Karyl.” She made a face like she was tasting something sour. “I don’t like them.”
The doorbell rang.
Vanessa grabbed Barushe’s hand. “Is that them?”
Barushe looked at her oddly. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Barushe.” Vanessa was forming a plan
Barushe was silent.
“I’m going to take Morgan with me.”
“She can’t leave.”
“She shouldn’t see them,” Vanessa said again, and lifted her eyes toward the door. “I’ll take her down the back stairs and over to a friend’s house.”
Barushe looked uncertain.
“Can you tell them she’s sleeping? Please. Give me enough time to get Morgan away.”
Barushe nodded but her eyes looked nervous.
Vanessa hurried back to Morgan’s bedroom. She took Morgan’s hand. “We’re leaving.”
Morgan looked at her blankly.
Vanessa tugged. “Come on.”
Morgan followed reluctantly down the hallway to the back stairs. Vanessa could hear Barushe talking to Tymmie.
“No, she’s sleeping.” Barushe spoke with a slight tremor in her voice.
“We’ll wake her up then,” Tymmie replied.
“Like Sleeping Beauty,” Karyl snickered.
“I better go see my friends,” Morgan said in a dazed kind of way.
Vanessa pushed her out the back door. “Not now.”
It was after seven when she finally had Morgan in Maggie’s apartment. Maggie didn’t seem surprised by Morgan’s condition.
She sat Morgan in a chair and stood behind her. “They have stolen some of her thoughts, maybe, but at least she’s not imprisoned in their memories. Her soul needs to visit the spirit-world for healing.” Maggie gently touched Morgan’s hair.
“Can you do that?”
Maggie smiled as if Vanessa had asked a silly question. “People do it every day in prayer. You go on now. I’ll make sure she gets home.”
Vanessa started for the door.
“Vanessa,” Maggie called as she opened the door. “Remember your promise.”
Vanessa nodded and left.
On the way home, she looked at her hands. They were trembling. Fear was a mild word compared to what she was feeling. She realized then that she had made her decision. She knew now what she had to do.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
SATURDAY NIGHT, Vanessa lay curled in her covers, waiting for her mother to fall asleep. She was going to meet Stanton. She didn’t see that she had a choice. She had to defy Maggie. What if she waited and something happened to Catty? She couldn’t let them do to Catty what they had already done to Morgan. And if they had already? That was even more reason to go now and rescue her. She threw back the blankets and crept down the hallway to the third bedroom where her mother stored the clothing she designed for movies.