Swallow the Moon Read online

  "You are a mind reader." June gave her a hug. "His name is Eric."

  "Oh! Tall, dark, oh-so handsome and very well spoken." Iris chuckled. "Lucky girl."

  "You know him?"

  "I'm all knowing." Iris teased. "Have some tea?"

  They drank tea and chatted about mutual friends and family for a time. They got the baskets displayed, then more customers came in. June regretfully said goodbye.

  She walked out to her car, looking full into the open bay of Van Man Go's shop. She had to talk to him. Maybe there was some way to free Jake and Eric from Cora's clutches. Even if she couldn't help both of them, surely she could get one of them free?

  June recalled Eric's kisses; they set her completely on fire. She reminded herself that Eric was just another unemployed biker looking for a place to crash. Too many men like him had skimmed through her life – taking everything they could get. He was just passing through town.

  Still, she had to try to talk to Van Man Go. She crossed the parking lot. She could smell paint, just as she had in the dream, when Cora came to get her motorcycle painted. There was movement in the back of the shop. Her shoes clicked on the paint splattered pavement. The artist stepped from the shadows.

  "Well, it's the little witch girl." Van Man Go wore a ragged flannel shirt over his stained t-shirt. "I thought you'd make an appearance sooner or later."

  "I came to see your work." She would try flattery. "I'm told that you’re the best."

  His brown eyes assessed her. He smiled, showing teeth filed into fangs.

  "Come in, come in; I don't get many pure and righteous visitors." He waved her to the office. "Most of my customers have other things on their minds."

  She followed him, nervous, but determined. The large office was surprisingly clean and furnished sparsely. Awards adorned the walls – trophies filled a tall case, framed magazine covers featured photos of his work. Van gave her a few moments to take it all in before he ushered her to a chair.

  "Have a seat." He gestured to a table and chairs that were decorated with painted zebra stripes. He settled in the chair across from her, a pleasant expression on his crafty face.

  "What's on your mind?"

  What to say? Where to start?

  "I'm here concerning a motorcycle you painted."

  "Which one?" He gestured at the photos. "I've done hundreds of bikes over the years."

  "Cora Cobra's Hayabusa."

  "Aha! That bike. Um – yes." Amusement brought a quirk to his lips. "What about it?"

  "There's something…" June fell silent as the absurdity of the situation struck her. He knew. He was going to make her spell it out.

  "Odd?" Van prompted, his hand in front of his mouth to hide his smirk. It was in his eyes.

  "How about I just lay my cards on the table?" Years of secrets and hiding her religion were useless here. He'd already called her 'the little witch girl' to her face.

  "By all means." He gestured to her to go ahead; a curiously regal gesture that was at odds with his shrunken frame. Cool, polite to a fault, with the mannerisms of a gentleman – Van Man Go was not what she expected him to be.

  "There's – ah – a spirit – two spirits attached to the motorcycle." She had the sinking feeling that she was in way over her head. "Cora and Jake are both – haunting Eric and his bike."

  For a moment she thought he was going to deny everything, make her look like an idiot. It was in his eyes, a deep amusement under the facade of polite interest.

  "Go on."

  "It all leads back to you."

  "It does?" Van shrugged. "Well, it might – but why should I care?"

  "Surely you know what's going on?"

  "Don't be a fool, girl. Once Cora gets her fangs in a man – it's over."

  "I don't believe you."

  "You'll see." He smiled.

  "Are you saying that she doesn't owe you?"

  "She owes me, big time," Van smirked. "But she's dead. I wrote her off as a business loss. I moved on. Business is business."

  June bit her lip and thought fast. She looked around the old building, the skin on her neck prickling with the feeling of being watched. Was it Jake, Cora or some other lost soul? She didn't want to know, not really.

  "I think you have more influence over her than you admit."

  "I'm flattered." Van leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. An un-lit filtered cigarette appeared in his hand. He took a deep drag; the end smoldered, then burst into flame. "So tell me, if I had the power to have Cora do her – thing – elsewhere, what, exactly, would you have me do?"

  The smoke he exhaled had a green tint to it and smelled more like pot than tobacco. The smell made her eyes burn. The thumping bass outside settled in the back of her head. This was a bad time to get a headache – she needed a clear mind.

  "Have you asked how she got her hooks into your boyfriend?" His eyes looked right through her. "The answer might be enlightening."

  "He's just a friend." June blushed, thinking of Eric and his hot kisses.

  "R-r-right, my mistake." Van flashed his fangs in a smile, cutting it short with a drag on the cigarette. "So, you've come to plead for the souls of the damned?"

  He scratched his nose with his paint-splattered middle finger.

  "How noble of you."

  "Hardly noble," June retorted. "This is damn inconvenient."

  "I suppose I could help you." He tilted his head, watching her, his mouth hidden behind his hand. "If you make it worth the effort."

  "Oh?"

  "I'm a businessman; I make deals all the time. Some are on my own behalf, for some I'm merely a proxy." He took a deep drag, leisurely exhaling smoke rings as he watched her face. "What have you got to trade?"

  "Trade?"

  "Yeah, trade – business at its most basic. What you are asking for is – tarnished and well used. What have you got of higher value to trade?"

  June could feel the blood drain from her face – surely he didn't mean that the way it sounded? Was he talking about her soul?

  "Of course – I suppose – under the circumstances it would be fair to trade, say two for one?" His lips lifted into a smile that showed his fangs. "I think we understand each other. Don't we?"

  June froze. Maybe she understood, all too well.

  "I don't usually give advice." Van took a long leisurely drag off the cigarette, the yellow of the filter nearly matched the yellow on his fingers. "But since you're so – young – I'll make an exception." He blew out more smoke rings.

  "Ever wondered why a man's childhood sweetheart would want to leave him?" His mocking eyes pinned her. "No? I'll give you a hint. He didn't spend his time drinking beer and playing strip poker with the local girls on that tour." He flicked ashes onto the floor.

  June struggled to keep eye contact. What did she know about Eric? Or Jake? Which one did he mean?

  "Maybe you ought to get to know your boyfriend better? Before you give your soul to save him."

  "I – I'm afraid I've wasted your time." June gathered her battered self-esteem, rising to her feet. He was talking about her soul! How was that possible? Why?

  "Oh no, don't go stomping off in a hissy." Van chuckled, a throaty sound. "This was just getting interesting."

  "You're not human enough to reason with," she snapped.

  "Oh, little fairy princess has her tights in a twist." Van held out his hands, making them tremble. "I'm shaking in fear."

  Anger made June aware of the white light inside her. Would it have any effect on Van Man Go? She breathed deep to touch the light inside her – ready to let it pour out.

  "Open that door, I dare you." Van leaned across the table, close enough she could smell the reek of pot on his breath. His eyes bored into hers, leaving the impression of something black, vile and flaming that reached for her from across the abyss. "You've backed the wrong horse in this race, princess. Better run home before the big bad demon eats you for a snack."

  June recoiled – the image was branded in he
r mind. She could smell the sulfur stench, feel its breath on her face as it crossed time and space to grab her. She fled, tears stinging her eyes and blinding her. She ran for her car, blind and deaf with fear. She fumbled for her keys, started the car and pulled out into traffic. She didn't care about cops or cars or the pedestrians on the street. She fled from the horror that inhabited the soul of Van Man Go.

  She had to outrun it or die.

  ~^~

  Eric was in the Iroquois parking lot, replacing the front wheel of his bike. As he tightened the last bolt, his breath frosted. The cold washed over him, as if someone had just opened a door into a blizzard. He swore under his breath as he gripped the wrench tighter.

  A wavering outline appeared on the other side of the bike, dark leathers and long hair.

  "Jake." Eric sat back to see him better.

  Jake leaned over the bike - bringing the stinging cold with him. The wrench in Eric's hand became cold enough to burn his fingers.

  "June." Jake pointed outside.

  Eric heard frantic footsteps. June ran out to the street and jumped into her car.

  "Stop her – at the ravine."

  "No!" Cora growled. "She dies!"

  The wrench slid from Eric's hand to hit his shin, doubling him over. He stayed down for a few seconds before he could get to his feet.

  "June!" Eric bolted for the door.

  She was already driving away.

  Eric grabbed the frost-coated handlebars and heaved the bike off the makeshift jack of bricks. For a second, it resisted him, as if frozen to the ground. The air was cold, sharp and painful to breathe, his hands burned.

  "Come on, you bitch!" He heaved again. "God damn you!" The bricks chimed as they shattered. The bike groaned as it settled to the pavement.

  Next door he heard cackling. Van Man Go was laughing like something out of a Batman movie.

  "You son of a bitch!" Eric shouted as he swung into the saddle and fired up the engine. "I'm gonna break you in half!"

  "I'm shaking in my boots, boy." Van showed Eric his full set of fangs, then spat fire on the sidewalk.

  Eric flipped him the bird.

  Eric racked the bike out, hitting the throttle hard enough to make her front wheel pop in the air. Bridge Street was the usual maze of slow moving traffic. Eric hit the centerline and second gear at the same time. Still on the centerline, over the bridge and around the curve, he caught a glimpse of June's white Toyota as she went up the hill, heading for Route 11. A semi's air horn blasted a warning; Eric twitched the bike back on the inside lane, stuck behind somebody's granddad in an old gold Nova.

  He was raging now, terrified of what Van did to send June into panicked flight. He shouted at the old man in the Nova as he swung the bike back on to the centerline to take the hill at 75 miles an hour.

  The ravine, he thought, June would lose it at the ravine. Somehow, they would make her miss the bridge.

  The light at the top of the hill was red. Eric glanced right, figured he could make it before the oncoming SUV, so he hit it hard. The SUV locked up its brakes; the driver hit the horn, shouting curses.

  Eric laughed, as he shifted again. Barely a quarter-mile later, he down-shifted to take the on-ramp tight at 85. Fuming at the delay, he wound his way through two semis.

  June had vanished in traffic. Maybe she'd hit the gas? The Toyota could do 90 to 100, if she had the guts to push it that hard.

  Eric swung the bike back on to the centerline and let her fly. Finally, June was in sight. She had the Toyota at top speed, like all the devils from hell were on her tail.

  Eric was barely gaining on her at 90. He dropped one gear, shot forward until he hit 100, then up-shifted.

  He came up on the driver's side, should have been visible in June's rear view mirror. She was staring straight ahead, not glancing in her mirrors.

  He shouted at her as he pulled up even. No response. He would have to let go of the throttle to pound on the car; tempting but not practical at a hundred miles an hour.

  The ravine was just a few miles ahead; he had to stop June before she got to the bridge. June's car was slowly drifting to the center of the road. By the time she got there, she would be over the median.

  The bike was sluggish as he racked out the throttle for the final time. He cursed her for a faithless bitch as he down-shifted. He was going to do this; she wouldn't stop him. He swept around June's car at 135. The bike screamed down the straight-away until just before the bridge over the big ravine.

  Then he locked up the back brakes, coming to a full stop, broadside in the center of the freeway.

  Eric waited.

  The white car came straight at him.

  He waited.

  There was no sign that June saw him.

  He waited.

  The bike's engine whined, the pitch rising in a scream of protest. But Eric held the clutch in, held the brakes on as June's car barreled closer.

  Don't do it, lover.

  Eric locked his eyes on June's face.

  She doesn't see us.

  The Toyota kept coming.

  "Please, God. Let her see me." Eric's hand trembled on the clutch.

  GO! GO!

  Three deer darted across the freeway in panicked flight. Eric burned rubber, spooking them into a 180 turn. June's eyes widened. She saw the deer, the smoke and Eric. She threw her head back, screaming as she stamped on her brakes. The white Toyota skidded right, then straightened as the anti-lock brakes snapped on and off.

  "Thank you, God." Eric breathed as the car came to a stop ten feet from him.

  June was aware, looking bewildered. Eric motioned her to pull off the road, before the rest of the traffic caught up. He dismounted the bike, pulling off his helmet.

  "You okay?" he asked.

  June shook her head, frightened beyond speech. He opened the car door, reached inside to help her out.

  "Come here." He held out his hands. She came to him like a terrified child, shivering and clinging. Eric held her against his heart, saddened and enraged that they would try to kill her when he knew it was him they were after.

  "Every time I decide that you are a complete jerk, you prove me wrong."

  Eric laughed.

  "I - I - almost hit you."

  "Nah, baby, not even close," Eric assured her with a smile.

  "What was behind me?"

  "Nothing." Eric held her a little closer. "Hey, can you drive?"

  "I don't know." June rubbed her face. "I guess."

  "I'll follow you, okay?" Eric walked back to the bike.

  He looked at the motorcycle. For a second, Cora flashed before his mind's eye, leggy, leather-clad and lush.

  You're still mine, lover.

  Not anymore.

  Eric pulled his helmet on. He waved June past him, following her at a less reckless pace. His nerves still thrummed with adrenaline. If he hadn't been there to turn the deer, June would have swerved left, missing the bridge and crashing 200 feet to the river, no chance of survival.

  Whose side was Jake on?

  They pulled into her driveway. Eric parked the bike to the side of the garage, out of the way. June was still pale and shaken as she got out of the car. He hugged her. She seemed barely able to hold her own weight. He could carry her to the house if needed. For now he could hold her up.

  "Why did you go see Van?"

  "I thought I could talk him into helping you."

  "No, baby, he won't help anybody." Ah, God – she was so freaking innocent. She had no idea what she was up against. Eric contained the burn of anger so he wouldn't scare her.

  No, lover, she can't save you.

  "Nobody is going to help me." He was certain of that. There was a hell of a difference between being dragged into a ditch and dragged from the grasp of Cora Cobra.

  "I can," June said, pulling out of his arms. "I know I can." There was something bleak and frightened in her eyes. "There has to be another way, a ritual of some kind. I'll find a way to free you from Cora
– cleanse the bike of her, lay Jake to rest."

  Magic, rituals, ghosts and the lovely witch in his arms; Eric smiled with the irony of it. She was determined – misguided, but determined. He gathered her back to his chest, rested his face against her hair.

  Why waste time arguing when he could hold her?

  ~^~

  Chapter Thirteen

  June's hands trembled, she felt sick to her stomach. She kept reminding herself that she was safe. She went upstairs to change her clothes, wash the sharp smell of fear off so she wouldn't stink of it. When she came downstairs, the living room was ice cold; a shadowy man stood by the fireplace.

  Are you all right? Jake's voice was deeper, raspier than Eric's.

  "Yes." June's eyes burned. This was so hopeless – but what could they do? "Find the light – for your own sake."

  I can't get free of Cora, you have to help me.

  "I'll do my best."

  I would do anything to stay with you. Jake brought her hand to his lips. Anything.

  "Please, you have to go." June's heart contracted.

  I won't leave you, I can't. We have to find a way. He touched her lips with icy fingers as he faded.

  June trembled, unable to reconcile Jake and Eric in her mind or her heart. Long, lonely years she'd searched for her soul mate – Jake was dead – Eric was alive.

  Who did she love?

  Then, as quick as a striking snake – a band tightened around her throat. June pulled away; she gasped for air, clawing at her throat. A picture rattled on the wall. A cold wind lifted the drapes. A fire flared in the dead fireplace.

  The room went gray as June fought for air. Her heart labored. June sank to her knees, calling the light, but her strength failed. Pillows flew from the couch and books off the shelves. A lamp flew into the fireplace, an explosion of shattering glass. A door slammed, a voice shouted curses, but June slid into darkness.

  "Breathe, baby, breathe for me." Someone forced air into her lungs.

  June gasped, coughed, clutching her raw throat. Air was life. She gasped again. Something cold burned her hand. She rolled over on her side, coughing.

  "That's my girl." Eric rubbed her back. "Take deep, steady breaths."

  She didn't try to speak.