coyote,
+1—
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Dark Shadows: Wolf Moon Rising
skinny and ner vous, its eyes burning and its tongue hanging
out. It watched him for a long moment, before it turned and
galloped off , becoming a shadow again.
Th
en deep in the woods a wolf howled with a forlorn and
menacing wail, Th
e lonely sound made the hair stand up on his
neck, and for the fi rst time David thought perhaps he should go
on home. Th
ere were never wolves in the Collinsport woods,
and he had never heard one call.
After he mounted the sled, he pulled up on the throttle and
yanked the cord, and the engine rattled, then throbbed to life.
He eased the sled forward, thinking there were still traces of
Phaethon’s wild ride, the ends of earth covered with ice at the
poles, and volcanoes still trying to spit fi re out of their bellies.
Clearly, the lesson was never to steal your father’s chariot— or
your cousin’s automobile. Still . . . the Bentley was so elegant, so quiet, and black as a thief in the night, sure to go undetected
if he were to take it out after dark.
As he drove the snowmobile, a little more carefully now,
over the tops of drifts and down into dips, David was imagining
the painting, one he had never seen, a portrait of Quentin in
what Jackie had described as an army uniform with medals, in a
gilded frame. David saw it clearly, leaning against a stone, or
possibly a brick wall, in a deserted building.
He decided he would search them all: the pool house, the
stables, the bowling alley, the laundry shed, Rose Cottage, even
the shattered green house, until he found it, and he was certain
he would fi nd it. In exchange, there would be her smile, a grate-
ful hug— both infi nitely desirable— but more than that, a mo-
ment when her melancholy would lift, and to give her that he
would suff er the world.
But Willie had been so adamant, exhorting a promise that
David go only in the daytime, a promise he was breaking at this
very moment as dusk was falling. “Th
ere ain’t anything out there,
Mr. David, and you don’t have no need to go traipsin’ around
—-1
those dilapidated sheds and stuff .”
—0
—+1
81
039-54009_ch01_1P.indd 81
3/15/13 7:44 PM
Lara Parker
Willie had grown more agitated and, in his ner vous, whiny
voice, practically begged him to stay away.
“Th
ose buildings are dangerous, Master David. Th
e ceilings
could fall in at any moment. Remember there was a fi re, and the
fl oors are rotted, no telling what kind of varmints, snakes even
and poisonous spiders, live there.”
David had laughed at such simplistic reasoning but he was
becoming more and more aware of the pall that lay over his
family— a pervading gloom. Secrets hovered in the air, and in the
face of accusations there were only the same averted eyes and the
same denials. Crazy things happened and everyone pretended
not to notice, and if certain subjects were brought up, Roger
would abruptly end the conversation. Someday, if things went as
planned, David would inherit the estate. Would he receive as his
covenant all the misfortunes and indiscretions that plagued the
family?
With its Grecian colonnade and tall casement windows, the
pool house rising out of the snow could have been a small rep-
lica of the Old House, even though the Doric columns were not
so grand. Drifts thickened the portico roof as though it were
thatched with pale white straw.
He wouldn’t have much time. Th
e family would be wonder-
ing where he was and he had homework to do, two pages of
math and an overdue book report on Les Misérables . He wanted to write on the subject of loyalty, and sacrifi ce as a life choice, but he had gotten bogged down in the po liti cal ramifi cations of the
Revolution.
When he could steer the snowmobile no longer through the
drifts, he killed the engine and dug out the fl ashlight he kept in the seat to use as a torch. Th
e rising moon
+1—
80
039-54009_ch01_1P.indd 80
3/15/13 7:44 PM
Dark Shadows: Wolf Moon Rising
skinny and ner vous, its eyes burning and its tongue hanging
out. It watched him for a long moment, before it turned and
galloped off , becoming a shadow again.
Th
en deep in the woods a wolf howled with a forlorn and
menacing wail, Th
e lonely sound made the hair stand up on his
neck, and for the fi rst time David thought perhaps he should go
on home. Th
ere were never wolves in the Collinsport woods,
and he had never heard one call.
After he mounted the sled, he pulled up on the throttle and
yanked the cord, and the engine rattled, then throbbed to life.
He eased the sled forward, thinking there were still traces of
Phaethon’s wild ride, the ends of earth covered with ice at the
poles, and volcanoes still trying to spit fi re out of their bellies.
Clearly, the lesson was never to steal your father’s chariot— or
your cousin’s automobile. Still . . . the Bentley was so elegant, so quiet, and black as a thief in the night, sure to go undetected
if he were to take it out after dark.
As he drove the snowmobile, a little more carefully now,
over the tops of drifts and down into dips, David was imagining
the painting, one he had never seen, a portrait of Quentin in
what Jackie had described as an army uniform with medals, in a
gilded frame. David saw it clearly, leaning against a stone, or
possibly a brick wall, in a deserted building.
He decided he would search them all: the pool house, the
stables, the bowling alley, the laundry shed, Rose Cottage, even
the shattered green house, until he found it, and he was certain
he would fi nd it. In exchange, there would be her smile, a grate-
ful hug— both infi nitely desirable— but more than that, a mo-
ment when her melancholy would lift, and to give her that he
would suff er the world.
But Willie had been so adamant, exhorting a promise that
David go only in the daytime, a promise he was breaking at this
very moment as dusk was falling. “Th
ere ain’t anything out there,
Mr. David, and you don’t have no need to go traipsin’ around
—-1
those dilapidated sheds and stuff .”
—0
—+1
81
039-54009_ch01_1P.indd 81
3/15/13 7:44 PM
Lara Parker
Willie had grown more agitated and, in his ner vous, whiny
voice, practically begged him to stay away.
“Th
ose buildings are dangerous, Master David. Th
e ceilings
could fall in at any moment. Remember there was a fi re, and the
fl oors are rotted, no telling what kind of varmints, snakes even
and poisonous spiders, live there.”
David had laughed at such simplistic reasoning but he was
becoming more and more aware of the pall that lay over his
family— a pervading gloom. Secrets hovered in the air, and in the
face of accusations there were only the same averted eyes and the
same denials. Crazy things happened and everyone pretended
not to notice, and if certain subjects were brought up, Roger
would abruptly end the conversation. Someday, if things went as
planned, David would inherit the estate. Would he receive as his
covenant all the misfortunes and indiscretions that plagued the
family?
With its Grecian colonnade and tall casement windows, the
pool house rising out of the snow could have been a small rep-
lica of the Old House, even though the Doric columns were not
so grand. Drifts thickened the portico roof as though it were
thatched with pale white straw.
He wouldn’t have much time. Th
e family would be wonder-
ing where he was and he had homework to do, two pages of
math and an overdue book report on Les Misérables . He wanted to write on the subject of loyalty, and sacrifi ce as a life choice, but he had gotten bogged down in the po liti cal ramifi cations of the
Revolution.
When he could steer the snowmobile no longer through the
drifts, he killed the engine and dug out the fl ashlight he kept in the seat to use as a torch. Th
e rising moon
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