Her own breakfast in the wood burning stove's warmer, Mona laid a linen napkin over the pewter tray's food filled plates. Steve pushed his yolk-smeared plate away. Crushing an empty beer can in his massive hands, he threw the can into the sink, and opened a second can.
Steve looked at Mona with icy blue eyes. "Be careful with that old bitch," he warned.
Mona picked up the tray. "Does she gotta be locked up all the time? She's an old woman. What harm can she do?"
"That hag will do plenty if she gets out, and don't you forget it."
Mona shrugged. "She's strange, and her garden's straight out of the Addams Family."
Steve grunted, fingering the griffin amulet around his neck.
"But," Mona continued, "she seems harmless. Sits up there with her needlepoint, books, and lookin' out on her garden." A mischievous look on her elfin face Mona set down the tray and leaned over the table. In a coy, teasing tone she said, "But you're scared. Scared of an old lady half your size." She reached over to push a strand of his long blond hair from his face. "Even I'm bigger than her."
Steve slapped Mona's slender hand away, his face flushed with fury. "What in hell would a chronic loser like you know?" he yelled, violently shoving himself up and away from the table. The half-full beer can tipped over. Beer spread across the wooden table and ran down the sides to the stone slab floor. Mona cringed as Steve towered over her. He snorted in disgust and turned away. "You do as you're damn well told." Steve slammed the kitchen door and clomped down the hall's bare wood floor. The front door banged. Moments later Mona heard Steve's '52 Ford truck's asthmatic grumbling. She shuddered.
Close, she thought. Start feelin' solid with a man and forget not to say what I think. If it'd been Bob I'd been beat for sure. Carefully Mona picked up the tray. The Victorian staircase creaked as Mona picked her way up in the dim morning light to the second floor. At the hallway's far end stood a heavy, ornately carved door. Mona stood momentarily, admiring the door's intricate high relief. A large dragon, chained to a pentagram, glared at her. Gently Mona knocked on the door.
"Yes. I'm up," faintly called an ancient voice. Taking an antique housekeeper's key ring from her pocket, Mona unlocked the door and went in. "Hi there, Mrs. Zimmerman. Hope you like poached eggs and toast with hot chocolate. Sorry I'm not much of a cook."
Mrs. Zimmerman sat in a straight backed chair next to the window. She laid the book she'd been reading onto the window sill and took off her narrow glasses. She smiled saying, "My dear girl, it has been so many years since I've been served breakfast in my bedroom, anything would be a treat. I feel positively wealthy, with someone else doing the cooking and cleaning."
Mona set the tray before the old lady and looked out the window to the garden statuary. Below her poised a snarling rabid dog, a bearded, sneering man in rags, and two young toughs. One tough seemed to be fleeing in terror on his Harley.
"You seem attracted to my garden," said Mrs. Zimmerman.
"Ain't attraction. More fascination. Those statues look real in a creepy way." Mona turned to Mrs. Zimmerman. "Why don't you have nice things, horses, flamingos, stuff like that? Even the dog looks mean."
"We live in a negative world, my dear," answered Mrs. Zimmerman. "My garden reflects that world. I dare say you've a more intimate knowledge of life's evils than I do."
Mona's face flushed. "Because I used to be a whore?" Crossing her thin arms over her narrow chest, she rubbed her upper arms. "Suppose I still am in a one on one way." Mona looked at the old woman. "I'm sorry you got locked up, but it weren't my doing. Steve's got this thing about you."
"Thing? What thing?"
"He's scared of you. But he won't say why. You must of done somethin' real bad when he was little."
Mrs. Zimmerman's lips curved in a small sardonic smile. "Steven has reason to fear. He knows he gained control of the Lei line through trickery. In a few days he'll feel strong enough to work up the courage to kill me."
Mona blinked and stared at the old woman who could calmly say such outrageous things.
Mrs. Zimmerman chewed a piece of egg. "If his intentions were good I'd let him recharge from the Lei line. But, Steven's aura is dark and twisted. He corrupted the old ways. But then I'm sure you know that."
Mona snapped her mouth shut and carefully backed nearer the open door.
"Or do you?" wondered the old lady, looking sharply at Mona.
Mona carefully pitched her voice to a gentle humoring tone. "You believe you're a witch? Zap, someone's a frog?"
Mrs. Zimmerman laughed, shaking her head. "It's not that simple. Although, in the old days one great-grandmother proved effective in helping men become hogs." The old woman looked at Mona's carefully non-committal face and smiled as she spread grape jelly on her toast. "Of course. You don't believe anything you can't logically explain."
"Oh, there's lots of things I can't explain that I believe, color television, nuclear power, the bomb. Suppose the bomb should scare me. But, it'll happen or it won't. Nothin' I can do, so worryin' wastes time."
"A good point." Mrs. Zimmerman, speared another egg piece. "You're pragmatist."
"Huh?"
"A pragmatist judges all sensory input by its practical results, discarding anything which doesn't work or seems not to. 'If it works use it --- the end justifies the means --- every man for himself' tends to be a pragmatist's life code."
Mona frowned. "Sounds cold. More like Steve than me. I'd rather everyone would be nice to everyone else. Don't see why that's so hard."
Mrs. Zimmerman looked up with new interest. "I stand corrected. You're a romantic. A romantic who doesn't believe in magic."
Mona shrugged her thin shoulders. "Gotta live life as it is. Magic is dreams and nightmares."
Mrs. Zimmerman laid down her knife and jellied toast. Wiping her hands on her napkin she turned to Mona. "Yet, dreams and nightmares exist. Magic also exists. Magic is stronger in some places, and some people, but magic exists." Mrs. Zimmerman viewed Mona more intently. With great gentleness she said, "My dear, I apologize for my earlier attitude. Whatever your lifestyle, you don't deserve what awaits you if you remain." The old woman stood and walked over to her fireplace. Over the mantle hung a circular painting depicting a wheel divided into thirteen parts. Between each spoke lay a different foreground with the same ancient stone circle background. Different colors predominated in each section. Mrs. Zimmerman turned. "You've heard the expression, 'once in a blue moon"?
Mona nodded.
The old lady pointed to the spoke showing a full blue moon in twilight. "Officially there are twelve months to a year, but astronomically there are thirteen full moons, lunar months. One month each year has two full moons. Each lunar month has its own vibration level on the lei lines. It's own variant magic, some more corruptible than others." She pointed to a section in predominately orange and black. "The easiest magic to corrupt is Samain, which now approaches. What most people call Halloween." Mrs. Zimmerman lowered her arm and turned to Mona. "To bring forth the evil Steven needs to defeat me easily, rather than chance honorable battle, he needs two sacrifices. First, the beasts of darkness need something or someone to feed upon. Second, someone sufficiently weak willed to be taken over is needed as the demon's mortal vessel. You are in great danger, child."
Mona stared. The back of her neck tensed. Shivers ran along her spine. Forgetting the tray, she backed carefully through the door, and locked it. Mona stumbled blindly to sit on a nearby padded bench. Gradually, her heart slowed and the shivers passed. She laughed weakly. "You gotta give the old lady credit. She tells a scary story. Silly! She almost had you there." Standing, Mona smoothed her new powder blue sweater and realigned the side zipper of her ankle length black skirt. Feeling more herself, she walked down the stairs.
#
A few hours later, Mona surveyed the pantries canned goods, trying to decide on lunch. Dimly she heard Steve's truck. The front door slammed and Steve yelled, "Mona!" She hurried to the front hall. Steve stood in the entry way. A large, bony dog cringed at his feet. Mona stopped short at the pitiful sight.
"Found him alongside the road. It's criminal to let an animal suffer. Brought him to you."
"Oh, the poor dear!" Mona walked over and knelt by the quivering animal. He crawled onto her lap, hiding his big square head under one of her arms. She stopped stroking the dog long enough to catch the rope leash Steve tossed her. She looked up. "You can be a kind man. You did good, stopping to help a poor creature."
Steve nodded genially. "Best give him some milk and see how that sets before giving him anything solid. The first day or two he shouldn't have anything harder to digest than oatmeal. I'll go to the store after lunch for dog stuff and disinfectant. In a couple of weeks he'll be a new dog. Within a year you'll never know he's the same animal."
"What we goin' call him?"
"Oh, I don't know. He's your dog. Name him whatever you want."
"Mine?" Mona looked at the animal.
"Sure. He's a mongrel stray, but I figured he might rate as a peace offering for this morning. Besides, I pity him. Obviously, some man abused him, so now he distrusts all human males."
Mona smiled. "Think I'll call him Gawain."
Steve blinked startled, then roared with laughter.
When Mona took lunch to Mrs. Zimmerman, Gawain padded along. His new red collar's long end flopped as he darted about sniffing strange odors, then rushed to Mona's heels again. He hadn't gone far from her side since arriving. She set the heavy tray on the hall table and turned to knock. She paused with her hand half raised. The dragon sat relaxed and wasn't glaring. Mona gasped, taking a step backward.
Gawain looked at her with a questioning whine.
Mona shook her head. "Silly!" She looked down at Gawain. "It's all that witch talk. The door is a door. I mis-remembered how it looked." Stoutly ignoring her primal shudders, Mona gently knocked.
"Come in," called Mrs. Zimmerman.
Mona hesitated. She looked again at the dragon door, then turned the key.
Mrs. Zimmerman left her needlepoint frame by the fireplace and crossed to the table. When she'd seated herself Mona carried in the tray. The breakfast tray sat neatly on the table, opposite Mrs. Zimmerman.
Gawain stuck his large, square head around the doorway to look at the old woman. Then, with tongue lolling out, he romped over and set his head on her lap. Large brown eyes looked soulfully into pale blue ones.
"My goodness, when did this arrive?"
"His name's Gawain after my favorite character in a story my eighth grade English teacher made the class read."
Mrs. Zimmerman stroked Gawain's head. "In spite of it being forced on you, you must have learned something if you liked the character."
"Always liked that teacher," Mona said wistfully, "and the poetry and stuff. Wish I could talk fancy." Mona wrapped her arms around herself. "Steve rescued Gawain and give him to me. Always wanted a dog, but Mom said the city weren't no place for pets. But I knew the real reason. Dad drank what money we had. His liver finally done for him. Pity it didn't happen sooner."
Mrs. Zimmerman looked at Gawain. "I hope you can live up to your new name." Gawain thumped his tail.
With Gawain bridging the gap between the women Mona stayed longer. Gradually under careful prodding, Mona relaxed enough to tell her life story to when Steve picked her up.
"I wondered how you became connected with my grandson. You could do better."
"Steve ain't no prince, but he's miles better than the pimps I survived. It's a step up bein' one man's plaything." Mona smoothed the arms of her soft sweater. "'Sides, he can be generous. Steve went to a lot a trouble to save Gawain." She laughed. "He even teaches me to cook and all that. When Steve tires of me, as men do, maybe I can be a respectable domestic." Mona looked at Gawain, saying softly, "I'd like that. It's strange, I never much thought about the future. Just drifted. But, now ... things are different. No one depended on me before. Gawain ain't like having a kid or husband, but.... I can't explain it. I'm feel things different."
Mrs. Zimmerman shook her head. "You've forgotten Samain. Like everything, Evil can use high magic days as well as Good. Unless you join forces with me, you'll be destroyed. You won't have a future."
Mona shook her head and stood, gathering both trays.
As Mona and Gawain reached the door, Mrs. Zimmerman looked out the window. "Steven is taking another walk in the woods." She turned to Mona. "Have you gone into the woods yet?"
"No, it's cold out there."
"True. But now you have a large dog." Mrs. Zimmerman nodded at Gawain. "Dogs need exercise, especially big ones."
In the kitchen, Mona set the dishes to soak in hot water, and lay the wiped trays on the side counter. She looked at the round clock above the window, surprised to see how late it was. Looking out to the backyard, she saw the rear gate to the woods. She turned to Gawain, sprawled under the kitchen table. "The old lady's right about one thing. You need out before it gets too dark. There must be a path beyond the gate. Steve goes there every day. We can catch up with him, and you'll have a chance to do your necessary."
Gawain's tail thumped as he saw Mona get his new red leash. He bounced over to have it fastened to his matching collar. "We'll have to get you licensed soon. I'll mention it to Steve when we catch up with him." A chill wind carried the promise of winter. Mona pulled her worn coat closer. Once the girl and dog reached the forest's dense shelter the air became quieter. Multi-colored leaves scrunched under foot. Ten minutes into their stroll they reached a clearing. Mona stopped in surprise. In the meadow's center reared a circle of standing stones, like the backgrounds in Mrs. Zimmerman's strange circular painting.
Steve and three other men pushed a short, narrow altar on log rollers from within the stone circle. A longer stone block with a hollowed center lay on a flat bed truck. Gawain whimpered. Mona looked down at him. Gawain pulled on his leash as he slowly backed up with his tail tucked between his legs. Mona dropped beside Gawain in the forest shadows, holding his quivering body against her. "Gawain? What's wrong? It's just Steve and some friends with a bunch of stones fixed like ancient English temples, only smaller." Petting the dog, Mona tried to calm him but he still trembled with terror. Looking at the men Mona began seriously thinking about Mrs. Zimmerman's stories. The hackles of her neck rose.
"Nonsense!" Mona told herself firmly as she stood. She looked at Gawain. "It's stupid to fear the unknown. The monster in the night is a chair with the clothes you tossed onto it. You have to face what you fear and discover what it truly is." Mona started to walk from the sheltering trees, but Gawain rushed in front, tripping her. Mona looked into Gawain's pleading eyes. "On the other hand, Mom always said animals sense things humans can't. A fool ignores animal warnings."
Gawain refused to be in the same room with Steve, so Mona fed the dog his dinner in the pantry. Feeling uneasy, she carefully propped open the pantry door while half hearing Steve talk about the jeep he planned to buy.
When Mona and Gawain took Mrs. Zimmerman her dinner Gawain laid his huge head on the old lady's lap and cried.
"What happened?"
Mona looked at Mrs. Zimmerman, unsure what to say. All the earlier openness lay behind heavy doors of confusion and fear.
Mrs. Zimmerman rose gracefully from her seat. She took Mona's hands in her own, gently saying, "You took Gawain into the woods. Was what you saw that fearful? Please, tell me."
Mona felt as if someone inside her pushed her into the old lady's arms. Being eight inches taller than Mrs. Zimmerman that didn't work. Mona sank to the floor and held onto Gawain, who'd rushed to her. She buried her face in the dog's neck and sobbed.
Mrs. Zimmerman knelt on Gawain's other side and stroked Mona's hair. Bit by garbled bit, Mona told the old woman about the changes in the clearing and Mona's confusion. Finally, Mona calmed enough to get control of herself. She wiped her eyes on her blouse sleeve.
Mrs. Zimmerman took a dainty linen handkerchief with small violet and yellow pansies embroidered in one corner from her pocket. "Here, blow your nose."
Stunned by the offer, Mona looked at the beautiful cloth square. "Oh! I couldn't. It's so elegant."
"Nonsense!" Mrs. Zimmerman firmly put the handkerchief into Mona's hand. "That's what it's for. If you like it, keep it. I've plenty more."
Mona hesitated, then put the lavender scented linen to her nose and blew. Her sinus' open, Mona tucked the hanky into her skirt pocket. "Everything's wrong. I never can make things work. Thought Steve and me had somethin'. Kept tellin' myself it couldn't last so I wouldn't jinx our us-ness. He's nicer to me than any man before. Now...."
Mrs. Zimmerman patted Mona on the shoulder. "Now you see that my warning is true. To save Gawain's life and your soul, you must work with me."
"My soul got nothin' to do with this. Steve'll kill us to make something that don't exist!" Mona scrambled to her feet. "We all gotta leave here. He's insane." Mona quickly brushed away her tears, and took herself in hand with a rare firmness. "Tomorrow, soon as Steve leaves, I'll come get you. We gotta run." Mona, with Gawain on her heels, hurried from the room. She shut the door, but didn't lock it.
#
All the next day Mona lived in despairing agony as Steve remained in the house. She surprised herself by how well she pretended to be her normal self, while her mind whirled. That night, before bed, Steve had Mona don a golden silk gown with long dangling sleeves. He twined a blood red cord around her waist, across her chest and back, to fasten at the waist. Mona looked into the full length mirror with Steve standing behind her. He looks, she thought, like Bob when he considered buying a horse.
"Pity," Steve muttered, "her bust line isn't bigger. But then she's always been a scrawny thing. No time to fatten her up now."
Mona felt chilled as she thought, It's like I'm a dumb animal. He isn't even pretending any more. She looked in the mirror. What am I to do? Mona closed her eyes and for the first time prayed to the God she'd never believed in.
Steve carefully removed the costume from Mona's passive body. She obediently followed him to bed. Knowing death hovered made Mona hunger for any sign of life. As Steve made love to her Mona found herself with a raging need to buy her reprieve, and tried to make the sexual exercise the love she so badly needed. Sated, Steve lay back. As Mona snuggled closer to lie half on him he viewed her with open amusement. "That's the first time you've shown real passion. If silk can do that I wonder what diamonds would do?"
Mona lay quietly for a long moment, then tentatively whispered, "Steve?"
"Yes?"
"Why the costume? It is a costume, isn't it?"
"Halloween is coming. I decided to give a party. Some friends will be coming over."
"Won't they wonder why your grandmother isn't the hostess?"
Steve laughed in low rumbling amusement. "This party isn't her thing, and we won't be having it in the house. There's a place in the woods we'll use so no noise will bother the neighbors. You'll be belle of the ball, the main attraction in your new gown." He laughed again as if at some joke she couldn't understand.
But I _do_ understand, thought Mona as Steve rolled over to go to sleep. Must be careful, and keep him thinkin' I'm stupid. It's my only weapon. Gawain. Steve means to sacrifice Gawain and me in his crazy ritual tryin' to do the impossible.
#
The next morning when Mona and Gawain took Mrs. Zimmerman her breakfast Mona paused inside the door as Gawain loped over to greet the old woman.
"Is something wrong?" asked Mrs. Zimmerman as Mona laid the tray before her.
"Steve plans to do everything he thinks I'm too dumb to see in three nights. It's Halloween."
Mrs. Zimmerman nodded. "Samain."
"Whatever," said Mona with a sigh. She paced up and down the room, thinking. There's no doubt about it, insanity runs in their family. The old lady is shy a few cards from the deck. But, unlike Steve, she's harmless crazy. I gotta take care of her. Coming to a halt, Mona looked up from the floor, surprised to see an amused look on Mrs. Zimmerman's face. "You gotta take this serious," said Mona sternly. "After Steve's killed Gawain and me there's no tellin' what he and his friends will do to you in their rage at it not workin'. I'm gonna leave the door unlocked. When Steve leaves you come down. I'll help you to the nearest neighbor. You can get help there." Mona frowned. "I don't want to deal with cops. Could you forget I was here?"
Mrs. Zimmerman smiled and nodded. "Agreed, with one small alteration. You needn't leave. Once I'm free I can defend us both. I'm used to having you around. We can work out a good deal for us and Gawain."
Mona shook her head.
"However, if you don't want to take the chance that I might lose, I understand. But before you leave you must do two things or I shan't be able to leave this room."
"What?"
"First, freely give me the key ring. No, not now, after Steven leaves. Then you read the dragon door a special chant."
Mona backed off a few paces. In carefully neutral tones she said, "Yeah, sure. Why not? Whatever you want me to say."
#
Several hours later, Mona hurried down the dimly lit stairs with Gawain trotting beside her. She held his leash in one hand and her checkered nylon suitcase in the other. "That old woman should be committed," Mona told Gawain as they headed for the door. "All that time wasted on pronouncin' some dumb foreign words. We should a been long gone. Tried to make her come. Ain't my fault. Can't force her. Even if I stayed, we two can't overpower someone as big and strong as Steve." Opening the front door, Mona peeked into the night. A stiff wind whipped barren branches around. Mona hesitated and looking up the stairs. Firmly she told herself, "Whatever happens, it's no fault of mine. It's not." She shut the door behind them. At the porch steps Gawain stopped and snarled. Car lights showed on the driveway. Mona froze momentarily. Then, leading Gawain, she dashed back into the house. She leaned against the closed door, her darting eyes seeking a hiding place. The library, she thought. We don't never use the library.
With Gawain close beside her, Mona scurried to the double sliding doors and plunged into the drapery shrouded room's darkness. Closing the doors with an inch gap between them, Mona waited with a pounding heart. The vehicle stopped, obviously not Steve's complaining old truck. Mona reached to push open the doors. Gawain pulled on his leash, causing her to fall backward. Then Mona heard Steve's heavy tread on the porch. Sitting up, her arms around Gawain. Mona tried to still her breathing, while watching through the small opening.
"Mona!" called Steve as he entered the house.
Mona froze like a cornered rabbit, afraid to breath lest Steve hear her. From upstairs, she heard claws click against the hardwood floor. Steve's head jerked upward. He whirled, ran to the front door and tried to turn the handle. The door seemed locked into position. Grabbing a chair, Steve swung it at the window. The chair bounced. Turning swiftly, Steve backed against the front door. "No!" he roared. "I chained your power. You can't touch me!"
Gawain pressed against Mona with his tail tucked between his legs, trying to make himself small. But Mona, releasing her grip on the dog, found herself drawn irresistibly to the crack in the door. She stared into the entry room. Her whole body trembled with the need to run, but her mind stood frozen in horrified fascination as a monstrous shadow slowly appeared on the stairway wall.
Softly chanting, Steve gripped his griffin amulet. Both the amulet and Steve shimmered. Mona choked back a scream as Steve's glowing form changed shape. A griffin as large as a lion crouched where Steve had stood. The clicking sound grew louder as the shadow on the wall became larger. A six foot high dragon stepped onto the stairway's top landing. She hissed.
Roaring. the griffin sprang, as the dragon leaped the banister. They slammed together and crashed to the floor, snarling and snapping. Razor sharp talons slashed murderously. The battle raged around the wide entry room and down the narrow hallway toward the kitchen.
The route to the front door clear, Mona grasped her suitcase and pulled on Gawain's leash. Flinging open one double door, Mona ran for the front door. Halfway there she slipped. Bringing her hand to her face Mona saw and smelled blood. The battle din increased. Mona whimpered as she turned her head and saw the two mauling giants return. At the sound of her sob the griffin half-turned and saw her. He lashed out at the dragon, slamming her against the kitchen door. Then, turning with a screech, he lunged for Mona. She screamed, throwing her hands before her face. Gawain yanked loose his leash, lunging at the griffin's throat. The griffin barely slowed his charge to slash Gawain's bony sides. He threw the screaming animal at the stairway wall. Within inches of Mona's cringing form, the griffin reared as the dragon leaped on his back. Screeching, he turned to battle the furious reptile.
Mona crawled over to Gawain, broken and still at the foot of the stairs. Blood covered him and puddled on the floor. Tears in her eyes, Mona forgot her fear in a rage unlike any she'd ever known. A rage that filled her whole body and soul. The dragon was down with the griffin tearing at her. "No!" screamed Mona. She charged the monster grabbing up her suitcase as she ran and pounded him on his head. The griffin turned with a scream of rage and slashed the case, as he had Gawain. Mona threw the ravaged suitcase at the bird-beast and ran to a small table. She lifted and threw a heavy marble head of a young girl. The griffin screamed in pain as the marble struck his shoulder. The dragon recovered her feet and attacked the griffin's rear. Mona picked up the rosewood table as a club against the bird-beast. The table broke into pieces, leaving her with two table legs. The griffin turned on her again. Aiming for his eyes, Mona struck his snapping beak with both table legs as a claw grabbed her. With a screech the bird-beast threw Mona against the front door. A sharp pain in the back of her head shattered consciousness.
#
Gradually, the world came into focus with the wind rattling window shutters. Mona opened her eyes. She lay nude in the bed she'd shared with Steve. A half burned fire in the fireplace warmed the room. Memory returned. Mona's throat and chest tightened in grief. Gawain, the only being to love her without terms, dead. The only soul she'd ever trusted enough to let down all guards. Hot tears stung her eyes. Mona stared at the closed door. Is it locked? she wondered. Every muscle screamed as Mona sat up. Don't know who won. If Steve.... The thought too horrible to finish, Mona hobbled to the door praying it would open. Her hand reached the knob.
#
Winter passed into spring. Trees and bushes around the old Victorian house budded with new life. Birds flitted everywhere, building their nests. In the garden dandelions sprang up under the four corner statues. A new statue stood in the garden's center, a raging griffin screeching a soundless battle cry.
Mona, hardly recognizable with her rounded figure and pinker complexion, stood before the kitchen sink. She looked out the window softly humming 'I am Woman' as she washed Mrs. Zimmerman's dishes. Under the kitchen table a scarred and equally well nourished Gawain slept. His feet jerked and his tail thumped. Soft woofs puffed his jowls as he chased rabbits in his sleep.