Dark Moon (Nightmare Hall) (11 page)

Her final thought before her eyes closed was: But if I
were
that other Eve, maybe no one would be smashing mirrors in my face and taunting me in the dark and leaving ugly messages under my pillow.

She fell asleep with her head tilted on the pillow, her face upturned toward the window and the silvery rays of the moon.

E
VERYONE’S ASLEEP NOW.
I’m out here all alone, just me, so I can talk to you in private. I love being out here alone at night, with nothing but your bright light leading the way. It’s so peaceful, so quiet, so private. I’d stay out here all night, but someone might catch me here and start asking questions.

Wasn’t the book cover a stroke of genius? I hope Eve understood my message. It’s hard, with narrow, closed minds like hers. Sometimes you just have to hammer them over the head to slip anything inside. Maybe my clever artwork was too subtle for her.

She can try to pass it off as a joke. But she can’t fool me. The power sees right through her. I know she’s really scared.

She’ll tell the others. She’ll show them the cover. She’ll laugh and try to make fun of it, but I’ll know what she’s really feeling. And they’re not as skeptical as she is. They’ll see the warning for what it is. That will take care of any remaining doubt she might have about whether it’s a serious message or not. They’ll convince her.

I can’t wait to see the terror in her eyes then.

There isn’t another soul out here. Everyone’s asleep. I think I’ll just crawl into one of the Ferris wheel cars and sit there and think about what I’m going to do next. How best to use the power.

I’ll have to try something else soon. Wouldn’t want her, or any of the rest of them, to relax.

I love Ferris wheels. So big, so high off the ground, so dangerous, the way the cars swing and sway, especially at the very top. My mother hated them, would never go near one, and wouldn’t let me, either. But I sneaked away from her and rode them, anyway. And after I used the power on her, I could ride anything I wanted, any time, any place.

Should have used it on her sooner.

Now, what shall I do next? Let me think …

A
NDIE WASN’T IN THE
room when Eve awoke to a gloomy Tuesday morning. The campus radio station announced that rain was expected later that day, and Eve thought grimly, Great! Perfect! Just what we need, a nice, drenching downpour, soaking the seats on the rides and turning the carnival grounds into a mucky mire. Perfect! If I believed in curses …

But she didn’t, of course. Still, if she
did
believe in them, she would have been convinced that someone on campus was sticking pins into a doll that looked suspiciously like Eve Elizabeth Forsythe.

The book placed underneath her pillow the night before was still lying on the floor. Eve bent to pick it up. She should show it to someone. But who? The police wouldn’t take it seriously. The committee? Maybe. Alfred wouldn’t laugh. He wouldn’t think it was funny, or harmless. He was already worried about her, wanted to protect her, keep her safe.

Well, she would keep
herself safe,
thank you very much. Alfred wasn’t going to become her self-appointed bodyguard.

She had just tossed the book into the waste-basket when Andie arrived, saying grimly, “Get dressed. Fast. The dean wants to see you. Us. The committee. I think it’s about Boomer. What are we going to tell her? I mean, we don’t know
where
that dart came from.”

Eve’s stomach had already been queasy because of the book cover. Now, it somersaulted. What were they going to say to the dean? She would have questions. She would want answers. A popular Salem University athlete was in the hospital, and no one on the committee had any idea how that had happened.

There was no time to confer with the rest of the committee, so, when they were all standing, nervous and uncertain, in the dean’s office, Eve told the simple truth. “We don’t know how that dart got there,” she admitted. “And we don’t know who threw it, or why.” There. She had just confessed that she didn’t know what was going on at the carnival she was supposed to be in charge of. Maybe now the dean would fire her. Relieve her of her duties. Assign someone more capable and trustworthy to take over.

But when they left the office a few minutes later, Eve was still cochairperson of the Founders’ Day celebration committee.

“The police believe that what happened yesterday was an accident,” the dean had said. “It looks like that one dart became mixed in with the others during packing. The company will be held responsible for Boomer’s medical bills, and his parents seem satisfied with that. Just to be on the safe side, however, we have employed additional security personnel for the duration of the festivities. All I ask on your part is that you check everything out very carefully before the carnival opens each day. There cannot possibly be a repeat of yesterday’s disaster at any of the game booths.”

At no time had she said, “And Eve, since you haven’t been doing a very good job, I’ve decided to replace you. I’m sure you can understand why.”

Eve’s emotions were so mixed when she left the office that she couldn’t be sure which feeling was stronger: disappointment or relief. Besides, one question hadn’t been answered. Even if the metal-tipped dart had accidentally been packed in their box,
who
had thrown it? Tony hadn’t. Wasn’t that the most important question of all?

“The dean is really behind us,” Serena commented as they left the building, emerging into a chilly, gray day. “I mean, she could have canceled the whole thing. I’ll bet the board was pressuring her to.”

“Nah,” Alfred disagreed. “It was probably the other way around. The board wants the money we’re going to bring in. They’ll keep this thing going as long as they can, no matter what happens.”

Eve didn’t like the sound of that. “You make it sound as if you expect more trouble. Please don’t even hint at that, Alfred. Things are bad enough already.”

Alfred looked up at the dismally gray sky. “Well, sorry, Eve, but I think our problem
du jour
is going to be nasty weather. I think the only sound we’re going to hear coming from the cash registers tonight is the plink-plink of rain hitting the keys.”

He was right. The skies opened before noon and by the time Eve left her last class, shortly after one o’clock, and went to the carnival site to check things out, the ground was a sloppy mess, the seats on every ride were thoroughly sodden, the canvas tent, shielding the food, sagging around its tent poles. The rain showed no sign of letting up. The sky was a thick, depressing slate-gray all the way to the horizon.

Eve conferred with every member of the committee by telephone, and they all agreed. There would be no carnival that day.

Eve notified the campus and local radio stations. She enlisted Andie’s and Serena’s aid in driving along the highway to post CLOSED DUE TO WEATHER signs on top of the original carnival signs. They hung another, larger one on the entrance to the site.

“What a drag!” Serena complained as they drove to Nightmare Hall to drop her off. “Now what are we going to do tonight?”

“Study for finals!” Andie answered without hesitation. “That’s why I wanted the carnival held earlier in the month. We’re doing double-duty here, getting ready for finals and handling the Founders’ Day stuff. I’m behind in two term papers and haven’t even opened a book for my chem final. As far as I’m concerned, this rain is a gift from heaven.”

“I didn’t know you wanted the carnival held earlier,” Eve said as Serena climbed out of the car. Nightmare Hall looked gloomier than ever, black sky behind it, a thick curtain of rain surrounding it. “You never said anything.”

Andie shrugged. “Everyone else was pushing for this week, especially Kevin. Alfred and Serena were, too. Kevin being cochairperson, I figured he’d get what he wanted. Anyway, I was outvoted, so why make a fuss?”

Serena waved and ran through the rain to the front porch, where she waved again before going inside.

“Whew,” Andie said as Eve drove down the gravel driveway, “how’d you like to go home to that place on such a gloomy day?”

Eve laughed. “I wouldn’t want to go home to that place even on a sunny day. Although it’s not as bad inside as I thought it would be.” And, she thought to herself, it’s not as if I feel so incredibly safe at Lester right now, not after I found that book under my pillow.

When they got back to their room, they went downstairs to the dining hall for a quick meal. Then Andie, books piled high on her bed, settled in for a long evening of studying.

“I’m going to do that, too,” Eve said, slipping into a red sucker with a matching, floppy-brimmed hat, and pulling on an old pair of sneakers. “But first, I want to check things out at the site.”

Andie lifted her head. “You’re going over to the carnival? Now? In this weather?”

Eve frowned. “You sound like my mother. Well, not
my
mother. Weather never stopped her from doing anything. But you sound like someone’s mother. I’m just going to check things out, make sure the food tent didn’t collapse under all that water, stuff like that. I’ll be right back.” The truth was, she had a funny feeling. She couldn’t have explained it to Andie, wasn’t even going to try. But every time she thought about the site, her spine crawled, and she had a creepy feeling that meant something. There could be something wrong over there.

There was doubt in Andie’s face. She hesitated for a second, then said, “Eve? Do you really think you should go alone? If you really have to go over there, why don’t you call Alfred, or that guy, Garth, see if one of them will go with you.”

Pretending she wasn’t worried, Eve said testily, “Now you really
do
sound like someone’s mother. No one is even going to be at that site, Andie. Who besides me is dumb enough to go out in this? The place will be totally deserted. I’ll be as safe as I would be in my own bed.”

Andie’s head bent over her books. “Yeah,” she muttered, “but just remember someone
put
something in that bed last night. I rest my case.”

Good point. “Well, you’ll be happy to know I’m taking a flashlight, Mom. See you.”

Andie didn’t answer as Eve left the room.

It’s all an act, Eve thought as she hurried down the hall, her sneakers making a whispering sound on the hardwood floor. The dorm was quiet with the hush of people studying. I really don’t want to go anywhere near the carnival. It’ll be dark, and filthy with mud, and it’s raining so hard, I won’t be able to see anything. If there really is something wrong, can’t it wait until morning? What am I trying to prove, anyway?

That you’re not afraid, her brain answered.

Then why am I examining the elevator so carefully before I step inside? Eve argued half-seriously.

The carnival site was even more depressing than she’d expected. Without the lights from the Ferris wheel and the other rides, and the moon completely hidden somewhere in the charcoal sky, only the narrow beam of Eve’s flashlight broke the darkness. She was forced to keep the light aimed downward to trace the safest path through deep puddles and treacherous mud. Even so, she slipped and slid as if she were walking across a glassy frozen pond.

She had never heard such quiet. No music, no laughter, no chatter, no balloons popping, no crack of air rifles targeting marching ducks, no shrieks and screams coming from the rides. Occasionally, a car high at the top of the Ferris wheel would creak as a sudden gust of wind caught it and sent it swinging. But there were no other sounds.

She missed the smells, too, of popcorn and hot dogs and the sugary-sweet smell of cotton candy. The food booths were draped completely with black, heavy canvas. The silent, dripping boxlike shapes loomed up out of the darkness on both sides of Eve, as if they were watching, waiting to see what she would do, why she was there.

Why
am
I here? she wondered as a gust of wind slapped her in the face with a sheet of rain so cold, it took her breath away. Andie was right. This is stupid. No one else is dumb enough to come out in this kind of weather. I haven’t proved a single thing to anyone except that, at least, the carnival site is still intact. Soaked and dismal, but intact. No one blew it up or set fire to it.

Maybe now that clammy feeling in her spine would disappear and she could concentrate on studying for finals.

Keeping her flashlight aimed on the muddy ground ahead of her, Eve turned and was about to head back to the dorm, when the total silence was broken by the sound of a voice.

“Ee-vie! Oh, Ee-vie, where you going? Leaving so soon? But you just got here!”

A
T THE SOUND OF
the sickeningly familiar whisper, Eve froze. The mud in which she was standing ankle-deep might as well have been quick-drying cement. After several minutes of silence broken only by the creaking of the Ferris wheel and the slapping of rain onto canvas, she lifted her head away from the path drawn by her flashlight. Her eyes darted from side to side, but her legs remained immobile.

“Ee-vie? Nice weather, huh? So how come you’re out here? I wouldn’t have figured you for one of those too-dumb-to-come-in-out-of-the-rain people. I thought you were smarter than that. I can’t believe they put someone so stupid in charge of the Founders’ Day committee.”

Mute and miserable, with water dripping steadily from the brim of her hat, Eve remained rooted to the spot. Andie’s earlier question sprang into her mind. “Shouldn’t you take someone with you?” The answer to that question was yes. A big, fat, rotten yes.

Too late now.

What was it she was supposed to be proving out here? Oh, yes, that she wasn’t afraid.

“Where are you?” she called, peering anxiously through the rain curtain. When no answer came, she cleared her throat and repeated the question, louder this time. “Where
are
you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know? Maybe I’m not anywhere. Maybe I’m everywhere.”

Eve wouldn’t argue that. It certainly seemed that way to her.