Under a Ghostly Moon (Jerry Moon Supernatural Thrillers Book 1) by William Moore, Beverley Moore
Authors: William Moore, Beverley Moore
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folklore has transformed them from the bloated living corpses that terrified mediaeval peasants into chic, guiltless, beautiful predators who slide through the ocean of humanity like tiger sharks. Of course some people are going to want to look like them."
" But they're just fantasy," observed Moon.
A dark thought passed behind Kate 's eyes. "Perhaps…" she replied.
Something in Kate 's reaction reminded him of the missing Goths. "I hear that a few of your clients have disappeared recently. Have you any idea where they may have gone?"
Kate gave him a searching look and then shook her head. "Not really, some of our guests are pretty transient you know, especially the eighteen to twenties crowd. They get better jobs; go off to college, that sort of thing. It's just the fucked up ones who hang around forever, eh Tez?" This last was addressed to a character sitting at a nearby table, whose straggly beard and long, slightly greying hair made it hard to determine his age, which could have been anywhere from thirty-five to fifty. He wore a black leather waistcoat covered in badges over a worn looking denim shirt, above dirty patched and faded jeans and down-at-heel cowboy boots. He seemed to have been listening in on their conversation and was obviously not at all bothered by being caught out.
" Takes one to know one, Kate," he grinned roguishly, showing off several missing teeth.
" I work here, you old bugger, what's your excuse?"
" I've been enslaved by your stunning beauty and maidenly charms," Terry replied, winking at Moon.
" Well, I never knew," Kate fluttered her mascara-thick eyelashes. "Not that I think you're man enough, but thanks for the thought. Moon, this is Mad Terry, he's been causing trouble here longer than I've been manager, so he may be able to help you with your article. I'm afraid I'm long overdue back at the bar."
"'Mad' Terry?" queried Moon, examining his new acquaintance dubiously.
Terry took the chair recently vacated by Kate. "Yes, well..." he replied, "I was a lot younger when I earned that particular monicker. I tend to drink less and piss more nowadays, if you get my meaning. The real name's Terry Doyle. Glad to make your acquaintance."
Moon shook the proffered hand, trying not to wince as Terry 's work-calloused digits ground his knuckles together. "You seemed to be interested in what Kate and I were discussing, Terry. The missing Goth kids - have you any idea what may have happened to them?"
Terry gave Moon a sidelong glance along his thin, aquiline nose . "Nothing that wouldn't have you thinking that I deserve my old nickname, but then, you seem to be an open-minded feller, so perhaps you won't think me so mad after all."
Moon nodded in encouragement and Terry, with a deep frown of concentration, started his tale . "I was drinking in here one evening and they had a few of the Goth types in - chatting around the bar mostly - including a couple of gorgeous young things who caught old Tez’s eye. They were both hanging onto a lad that looked... well, like a modern day Viking god to put it poetically. Tall, blue-eyed, blond hair down to his arse, you know what I mean?"
" I think I've seen them," answered Moon thoughtfully. "There were three stunning looking Goths that I noticed at the band-fest on Friday that match your description."
" Yeah, well they hang around here a fair bit. Seem to be well in with the rest of the crowd. Anyway, I had to take a piss so I went through to the gents. There's a little narrow window that looks out into the car park, which was partly open, so as I was shaking myself off I glanced out the window and who should I see but Viking Goth boy and his two lovelies looking like they were about to head off home. So I think: 'I wonder what sort of wheels he has'."
" As you do..." encouraged Moon.
" But he hasn't got any wheels." Terry looked sideways at Moon as if to gauge his reaction.
" He hasn't?"
"
" But they're just fantasy," observed Moon.
A dark thought passed behind Kate 's eyes. "Perhaps…" she replied.
Something in Kate 's reaction reminded him of the missing Goths. "I hear that a few of your clients have disappeared recently. Have you any idea where they may have gone?"
Kate gave him a searching look and then shook her head. "Not really, some of our guests are pretty transient you know, especially the eighteen to twenties crowd. They get better jobs; go off to college, that sort of thing. It's just the fucked up ones who hang around forever, eh Tez?" This last was addressed to a character sitting at a nearby table, whose straggly beard and long, slightly greying hair made it hard to determine his age, which could have been anywhere from thirty-five to fifty. He wore a black leather waistcoat covered in badges over a worn looking denim shirt, above dirty patched and faded jeans and down-at-heel cowboy boots. He seemed to have been listening in on their conversation and was obviously not at all bothered by being caught out.
" Takes one to know one, Kate," he grinned roguishly, showing off several missing teeth.
" I work here, you old bugger, what's your excuse?"
" I've been enslaved by your stunning beauty and maidenly charms," Terry replied, winking at Moon.
" Well, I never knew," Kate fluttered her mascara-thick eyelashes. "Not that I think you're man enough, but thanks for the thought. Moon, this is Mad Terry, he's been causing trouble here longer than I've been manager, so he may be able to help you with your article. I'm afraid I'm long overdue back at the bar."
"'Mad' Terry?" queried Moon, examining his new acquaintance dubiously.
Terry took the chair recently vacated by Kate. "Yes, well..." he replied, "I was a lot younger when I earned that particular monicker. I tend to drink less and piss more nowadays, if you get my meaning. The real name's Terry Doyle. Glad to make your acquaintance."
Moon shook the proffered hand, trying not to wince as Terry 's work-calloused digits ground his knuckles together. "You seemed to be interested in what Kate and I were discussing, Terry. The missing Goth kids - have you any idea what may have happened to them?"
Terry gave Moon a sidelong glance along his thin, aquiline nose . "Nothing that wouldn't have you thinking that I deserve my old nickname, but then, you seem to be an open-minded feller, so perhaps you won't think me so mad after all."
Moon nodded in encouragement and Terry, with a deep frown of concentration, started his tale . "I was drinking in here one evening and they had a few of the Goth types in - chatting around the bar mostly - including a couple of gorgeous young things who caught old Tez’s eye. They were both hanging onto a lad that looked... well, like a modern day Viking god to put it poetically. Tall, blue-eyed, blond hair down to his arse, you know what I mean?"
" I think I've seen them," answered Moon thoughtfully. "There were three stunning looking Goths that I noticed at the band-fest on Friday that match your description."
" Yeah, well they hang around here a fair bit. Seem to be well in with the rest of the crowd. Anyway, I had to take a piss so I went through to the gents. There's a little narrow window that looks out into the car park, which was partly open, so as I was shaking myself off I glanced out the window and who should I see but Viking Goth boy and his two lovelies looking like they were about to head off home. So I think: 'I wonder what sort of wheels he has'."
" As you do..." encouraged Moon.
" But he hasn't got any wheels." Terry looked sideways at Moon as if to gauge his reaction.
" He hasn't?"
"
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