Hungry Moon by Ramsey Campbell

with Mann, smiling uncertainly, even beaming.
    'Let us give thanks now,' Mann said eventually. 'We thank You, God, for giving us Your word to show us how to live our lives, to make everything clear to us. . .' The choir joined in, the townsfolk following raggedly. As the prayer came to an end, Mann glanced at the sun. 'Soon it will be the longest day of the year,' he said, 'and I really think by then your town may be God's, a truly Christian community. But I believe God would ask one more thing first. A truly Christian community can't keep a pagan tradition alive.'
    The plump woman beside Nick peered sharply at Mann. 'I know you may think it's just a charming old custom,' the evangelist said, 'but that's where Christianity went wrong, trying to swallow paganism instead of stamping it out once and for all. I want to ask you a favour on God's behalf. Will you think about leaving this cave as it is this year, not decorating it for once? No need to answer now, but can anyone here say that the picture you make out of flowers is worth offending God for?'
    'I'll speak up if nobody else will.' The plump woman supported herself on Nick's shoulder and heaved herself to her feet. 'I'm Phoebe Wainwright and I organize the cave-dressing. I think you're making things too black and white. The tradition's part of what we are, and I'm sure I'm not the only person here who thinks so. Why, even some of the children I've delivered help me dress the cave.'
    Somewhere in the crowd Nick heard a murmur: 'She doesn't even go to church on Sundays.' Otherwise the townsfolk seemed embarrassed, resentful that she'd spoken up.
    'I don't ask you to decide now,' Mann said to them. 'Next time we meet here you can let God know what you've decided. I only ask you to remember that paganism was always Christ's enemy. But a town where God has been invited into every home is a great defence against evil, and so I'll ask you one more thing: next time we meet, I'd like those of you who stood up here for God to bring anyone who hasn't asked God into their lives.'
    Some of the choir had slipped away to their tents for handfuls of silver balloons. They let the balloons, which were printed with the words 'God Loves You,' flock into the sky, blotting out the sunlight for a few moments. The meeting was breaking up. Nick limped toward the front of the crowd, taking out his pocket tape recorder; there were several questions he wanted to ask Mann. But he wasn't out of the crowd, quite a few of whom were converging on the evangelist, when someone grabbed his arm.

    SEVEN
     
    The young woman who'd stopped Nick had a tapering face, wide greenish eyes, long black hair that the wind was tossing. He was rather pleased to have been halted by her, until she spoke. 'Could you tell me what you're doing?'
    She was a New Yorker - one of Mann's followers, obviously. 'Just going for a word,' Nick said, indicating Mann.
    'About what? Exactly what have you been doing? I think we're entitled to know.'
    'So far I've just been watching.' If Mann's followers were all as paranoid as this, what had they to hide? She was staring at his tape recorder. 'I haven't been using this,' he said, 'if that's what you were thinking.'
    'Then why did you bring it at all?'
    'I always carry it, it comes with the job. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like a word with your leader. He may want to talk to me even if you don't think so.'
    She grabbed his arm again. 'Aren't you with his congregation?'
    'Only by accident. I happened to be passing. Take it easy with the arm, would you mind? I'd like to be able to use it when you've finished with it.'
    'Sorry. Here, please, put it somewhere safe.' She was peering at his tape recorder and stifling a giggle. 'That's not a field telephone at all, is it? I thought you'd been using it to organize the response.'
    'I thought that was what you were doing to me on behalf of the god squad.'
    'Looks as if we're on the same side after all. Maybe we should start again. I'm Diana Kramer,