The only way to reach the third level of the mill house was by elevator from the first floor. John led them back down the narrow staircase to the hallway, and then towards the back of the house. Pat looked at a large wooden pillar that seemed to rise up out of the floor just beyond the stairs.

"That's the shaft which turned the mill stone," Parsons said. Beyond it was a large metal door with a control station beside it. Parsons pushed a button and the door slid open. The elevator seemed unusually large as they stepped inside and Pat watched the door slowly close, but then he didn't know what was upstairs.

Of course, the elevator would need to be large enough to accommodate a man confined to a hospital bed, Pat thought, and if this was the only access that made sense. They were headed upwards and now perhaps they would get to meet the elder Mr. Parsons. The elevator stopped and the door opened.

The mill was beneath them, but you'd never know it by what Pat saw before him. Perry looked puzzled and then nodded. They had not had the chance to share their thoughts since they entered the house, but Pat could tell the boy was filled with questions.

Except for the elevator situated in the middle of the space the entire floor was wide open and without walls except for the rows of wooden posts running floor to ceiling. But unlike the floors below, this was a modern looking apartment. The tall windows flooded the area with light, and yet even those could be closed off with a series of curtains.

Pat immediately looked towards the back of the room where he expected to see Mr. Parsons in a hospital bed. The bed was there against the windows, but it was empty. John smiled when he saw Pat looking.

"My father has been dead for almost a year," John said. "I told you he was up here to keep you away from the lake ... .and for a very good reason."

Pat nodded. "I believed you. I guess you tell everyone he's up here watching for the very same reason."

"Yes, and now is the perfect time to show you why."

John walked across the room to the rear windows and motioned them over to look. From up here they could look down on the water, the pier and the vineyards trailing off into the distance. Pat wondered what he was supposed to see, but then he noticed the surface of the water about fifty feet off the end of the pier. It appeared to be boiling.

"That's where the intake for the water pumps is," John explained. "It's a two foot in diameter pipe with a metal grill on the end to keep out the debris. But the suction at the head is strong enough to hold you down ... and that's what happened to Jenny Hudson."

"She didn't accidentally drown?" Perry said.

"It wasn't an accident," John said. "She knew about the danger and ignored the signs."

John looked out at the lake and shook his head. "I wasn't up here when it happened, but my father saw it all. Jenny and some friends must have come out of the woods across the lake. It's only about a hundred yards across at this point. Her friends stopped but Jenny disrobed, went right in the water and started swimming for the pier. She never made it.

"I was up in the top fields near the front gate. Our sprinkler system is old and requires constant maintenance so I had a few men up there making repairs. My Dad called my phone which I had left in the truck but I didn't hear it ringing until much later.

"Once we finished the repairs I walked back to the truck and the phone was still going off. By then Dad was almost incomprehensible and I thought he'd had a stroke or something. The crew climbed in the back of the truck and I took off towards the house to see what was going on. I let them out to shut off the damn pumps and was up here five minutes later.

"Dad was on the floor with the phone by his side so I called 9-1-1. They took him by ambulance to the hospital and I rode along. The doctors who examined him said he'd had a heart attack, but I couldn't accept that. He wasn't but sixty-five and in damn good shape from having worked all his life. I didn't understand what had happened and we didn't find out until a few hours later what caused it."

"He saw Jenny drown and couldn't do anything about it. That's terrible," Pat said.

"I was in the waiting room at the hospital when my cell phone rang and it was Miguel, one of the crew members. He said the fire department and the police were down at the lake looking for a missing girl. The two girls that were with her had run all the way home to call in the emergency. But by then it was too late ... it was too late the minute Jenny swam near that intake.

"My Dad was out of it the rest of the day and it wasn't until late that night when he came around enough to talk. I had gone home to deal with the police, but the rescuers couldn't find her. Once Dad had told me what he saw I knew what had happened.

"We took the inspection port off the pumps and bled air into the system. That released the residual suction and her body floated to the surface. I called in the cops and the coroner took her away, calling it a simple drowning.

"Dad never fully recovered from the shock of seeing her drown. I wouldn't leave him in some impersonal care facility so we brought him home and I had a nurse in on a daily basis. But after the incident it was only a matter of time, and it was here in this bed that he passed away in his sleep."

Pat looked at Perry because a very large question still remained.

"You knew who she was, didn't you?" Pat asked.

John gave him a long hard look and then seemed to resign himself. The truth when it came wasn't shocking, just disturbing.

"I knew her. We met a short time after she started high school. I believe she was about sixteen at the time. In the early summer months my dad used to visit his sister several weeks at a time, but he was always back when it came time to harvest the grapes. I was here alone watching the vines and running the crews when she first appeared.

"Jenny used to come up here on the weekends, and sometimes she would bring a boy with her. I imagine she just walked up that driveway pretty much like you did. But with the car gone she probably thought no one was here and I always kept my truck in the barn where she couldn't see it. So imagine my surprise when I looked out the window and saw a naked young couple on the pier.

"Okay, it was a shock, and at the same time ... bewitching. She didn't see me that first day because I didn't know how to approach her. I knew I should chase them off since my dad would have done just that. But they just lay there staring up at the house and I couldn't help but look at them, they were quite a sight.

"She came back alone the following weekend and this time I walked around the side of the house and was going to surprise her. But she saw me coming and did absolutely nothing to cover up. It was like she wanted me to see her naked. I have to say that was a very difficult conversation considering the circumstances."

Pat decided it was time for a little information sharing since John had been so honest. "Jenny did a painting of herself lying naked on your pier," He said. "It was pretty obvious from the way it looks that she was out to entice someone with her sexuality."

John's face suddenly held an uncomfortable looking smile and Pat saw the beginnings of a blush in his cheeks. "She wanted to sleep with me and was pretty open about that," He said. "But I was thirty-two and there was too much of an age difference. I wasn't interested or even sure how old she was. She was a pretty girl with all the attributes of a young woman, but ... no, it wouldn't have worked for either of us. Let me get you some tea."

John walked over to the kitchen area and opened the refrigerator. Pat looked around the floor and decided this was all pretty cool. There was an arrangement of couches and chairs, a television set and even a fireplace. Besides the hospital bed, there was a bedroom set up on the far side of the room.

If John liked wide open spaces this was the perfect set up. Perry followed him over to the kitchen and sat down at the table. John produced three glasses of tea and set them down before turning to a bureau against the wall. He opened the bottom drawer and extracted several old books, the ledgers he'd spoken about.

"The top one is Wood's journal which describes what went on here after 1855 up until the time they closed the mill," John said, offering the books to Perry. "As I said, some of it is very hard to read but you're welcome to try."

He sat down with his tea as Perry started to look through the books. Pat thought the man looked uncomfortable, as perhaps he should. A lot had gone unexplained about his relationship with Jenny. Perhaps John was embarrassed by it all, or he was covering something up. There had been no mention about what occurred during the meetings on the pier, or if John had invited her into the house.

The Moon Goddess painting had expressed Jenny lying on the pier at night so why would John avoid mentioning that? At the very least Pat was not about to say anything about the Minotaur painting. John would probably freak out if he knew he had been depicted as a mythological creature with a huge sex organ.

He wanted to talk to Perry since it seems their assumption about Jenny's fantasy world was just a little bit wrong. She had been on the pier naked, at least that was real, but she had not been alone. Was the boy Michael Berger?

"So how soon before you finish the drawing of the house?" John asked.

"A week or so," Pat replied. "I'm going to make you a copy."

John smiled. "That would be very nice. What happened to the girl's painting?"

"Pat's mother took it," Perry tossed out. "It was um, yeah, well it was pretty damn graphic. Did you now she was pregnant?"

"No ... you're kidding. I never saw any indication of that," John said.

"It was probably all part of her fantasy," Perry said.

Okay, Pat thought ... that was pretty smooth. Perry must have a reason for not wanting John to see the painting.

"I'm glad you found her work, at least it gives you some idea of her thinking," John said.

"All it did was confuse the hell out of me," Pat said.

"Listen to this," Perry said, his finger following a line in the journal. "Tobias has left us this day and gone to the Lord. His body was found behind the dam after sunrise. He was a good miller and will be difficult to replace. AW, July 7th, 1857."

"So it sounds like one of the slaves drowned," Pat said.

"Probably so," John said. "I recall the ledgers said Wood had a dozen or so male slaves working here. They would have had families as well, perhaps a total population of thirty people."

"You think a lot of them stayed on after the emancipation?" Perry asked.

"Sure, why not?" John said. "Abner Wood made money with the mill and he could afford to pay them. But those years after the war were difficult. At least here there would be access to flour and they would be able to bake all the bread they needed."

Perry turned a few more pages. "This is all very interesting, quite a piece of history. But as you said it's difficult to read."

"Perhaps we should go," Pat said. "Your father will be wondering what happened to us."

Perry nodded, going along with the statement. "Thank you, Mr. Parsons. I'm sorry this whole episode with the girl caused such grief in your family. I'm also sorry our curiosity brought the whole matter up again, but you've been very kind in telling us the facts."

John nodded. "I still think about that summer, especially this time of year when the grapes are heavy on the vine. My father loved this old place and all it did was bring him to grief. My mother died here, my sister and I are the only ones left."

He sighed. "Sometimes I wonder if it's all worth the effort, but something keeps me here. Come back when you finish that drawing, I'd really like to see it ... just not next week. I have to go arrange the sale of the grapes, my annual chore."

"I guess you don't make the wine here," Pat said.

"No, that's a headache I would just as soon not take on. The wine business is pretty scientific these days. I have to take some samples of the fruit for testing and they decide when I need to harvest. The machinery for making wine costs hundreds of thousands of dollars so I'd rather just be the farmer."

"I don't blame you," Pat said. "I'll see you when you get back."

John took them back down in the elevator and showed them to the front porch. They shook hands and then John closed the door as Perry followed Pat down the steps and across the yard.

"And why did we leave like that? My dad isn't expecting us," Perry said.

"I had to get away and think," Pat said. "John was lying, or at least not telling us the whole truth."

"I can understand some of that," Perry said. "If he met Jenny when she was sixteen then they had some kind of relationship for at least two years. It doesn't mean they slept together, but if the painting is real then she got pregnant somehow."

"That usually happens when you have unprotected sex with a Minotaur," Pat said with a grin.

"Funny man. Maybe there is less fantasy in her art than we thought. But if she was pregnant when she drowned there was no mention of that in the police reports to the media. You would think that might be an important detail."

"What if it wasn't John Parsons, what if Michael Berger was the father?" Pat said.

"There you go again. That would be impossible to find out unless Michael admitted it and he's away in the Army," Perry said. "Something here doesn't add up. She was coming up to the lake often enough to know about the danger in the water and John said as much. He all but said she killed herself."

"Yeah," Pat said. "I wonder ... if she was pregnant would that make her want to kill herself? You think Berger knows anything about his brother's relationship with Jenny?"

"Oh, so now you want to talk to him?" Perry asked. "We ought to let this all go and move on."

"I can't. I'm drawing the house and this all stays in my mind while I'm doing it."

"Then finish the drawing so you can put this behind you," Perry said.

Easier said than done, Pat decided. He spent the rest of the week filling in the small details that would complete the drawing, but something was missing. His eyes scanned the long front porch, the brick arches of the second floor and the row of windows in the upper floor. That was all as it should be.

As an artist, Pat was always his own worst critic. Because he favored drawing houses and buildings the accuracy of each piece always became his biggest concern. Unlike a painter his medium consisted of fine lines and not broad brush strokes. But Jenny had done a fine job in her painting ...

That was it, Pat decided. There was something quite different between her painting of the back of the house and his representation of the front. He closed the sketchbook and reached under the mattress for the paintings.

He had spent the last two nights at home, ostensibly to work on the drawing. Perry didn't seem to mind since he had to get up every morning and help his father at the bowling alley. But Pat knew it wasn't just the drawing that occupied his mind.

Perry had become a most willing partner on the receiving end of their sexual activity, but Pat had not begun to return the favor. Not that Perry had said anything, he wouldn't. But Pat knew it was time for his own experience to occur, and yet he worried about it.

Barry had returned from chess camp and yet so far all they had done was talk on the phone. Now that Pat was committed to Perry he didn't think it would be right to reveal all the finer details of the relationship. At least they would all be together on his birthday.

It wasn't about the pain of a first time experience that bothered Pat since he knew Perry would be gentle. But would he enjoy it, would it be good enough to please his lover? Perry had known for most of his life that sacrificing his virginity would be the final hurdle to embracing his sexuality. Pat had never considered it a reality until just a month ago.

Now he felt that box of condoms in Perry's bedside drawer was mocking him. Did he have the courage to make that final commitment? Dubious fears, Barry would say, but then he always had words to express such thoughts. Pat didn't see himself as a coward and knew he would do it when the time came.

He unrolled the bundle of paintings and pulled out the one which showed the back of the mill house. What could be so different? The back porch wasn't quite as wide as the front one, he remembered seeing that. The railing on front steps was made of iron while the back one was wood ... wait a minute.

Pat opened his sketchbook and counted the steps, there were six. He looked at Jenny's painting and counted steps, there were fourteen. That would make for a six foot difference between front and back, and yet the mill property seemed fairly level. Pat didn't remember that much of a slope from front to back but it must be there.

The detail in the painting wasn't very clear even though it looked like Jenny had done her best to be accurate. Had she made sketches before starting to paint? Acrylics were an impossible medium in Pat's estimation because mistakes were hard to cover up. But even rolled up like these had been Jenny's paintings had not cracked. She had made few errors.

So what would a height difference mean? They had known all along that there was a basement. The size of the mill machinery would have assured that. Maybe Jenny's perspective was wrong, but then she had seen the building up close for a long time before she made the painting.

The image of Jenny submissively being taken by the Minotaur suddenly filled Pat's mind. But there was no evidence of a Minotaur on that property, just John Parsons. And as the image shifted Pat could almost see the man crouched behind Jenny as waves of intense pleasure swept through her body.

He could imagine her moaning and groaning with desire out there on the pier. Her screams of passion would have excited Parsons. Pat could see the man standing in the moonlight with his head thrown back as he roared out his emotions, and quickly the image changed back into the Minotaur. Pat snapped back from the vision.

Damn, this obsession with Jenny was not healthy, Perry was right ... he had to let it go. But the fantasy images had been just as much about John Parsons as the featured star, or was it the Minotaur? Why did he see them as one and the same?

Pat reached over and turned off his desk lamp, plunging his bedroom in darkness ... well, not quite. It was late and the moonlight streamed in through the windows. A full moon for his birthday, Pat remembered, the day he turned sixteen.

Tomorrow they would celebrate with cake and ice cream, a family moment to which Perry and Barry had been invited. Perhaps they would give him presents, but he really didn't need anything. Pat swiveled around in his desk chair to lay the painting back on the pile and he froze. Oh My God, what was that?

The moonlight was shining down on the painting of the Minotaur and it revealed more of the flowing script hidden within the details. They had exposed the naked image of Jenny to the moonlight and seen the spell written on it, but not this painting. Pat held the canvas up to the dim light and began to read.

"His will be damned, I will not have it. No mortal choice has he when I have spoken the words of power ... " And the words evolved into symbols and some strange language. "Des moltor bense pical ... aw crap," Pat said aloud. Perhaps it was just as well that he didn't say any more of the words.

This was witchcraft, a subject he didn't understand. But the words 'His will be damned' certainly didn't sound like a simple spell, this was more of a curse. What the hell had Jenny Hudson done here? He quickly looked at the others under the moonlight and only the two had writing on them. Perry might know what this all meant ... and it was then that Pat decided they needed to destroy the paintings.

Perry seemed to enjoy the birthday dinner which was followed by cake and ice cream. Barry was his usual jocular self and seemed to enjoy entertaining Mike. Pat watched the way his family interacted, everyone on their best behavior. Sixteen was supposed to be a big deal, but he didn't seem to feel any different ... or did he?

The growing emotional bond he shared with Perry wasn't obvious to anyone in his family and he felt sad about not being able to share that joy. Here he was on the verge of adulthood and the most important thing in his life was still a secret. That feeling left a void so perhaps sixteen wasn't such a big deal.

Of course he had told Perry and Barry about discovering the words on the painting and had his thoughts validated, it was a curse. The only thing they both agreed upon was that the paintings ought to be destroyed, but that had to be done in a very specific way.

"They have to be burned and the ashes scattered on water," Perry had said. "Witchcraft is a very complicated subject and if we don't do this the right way the curse could go on forever."

"You believe Parsons is cursed?" Pat asked.

"You seem to think so, why take a chance."

"So we burn the paintings, no big deal. All we need are some matches and ... "

Perry shook his head. "No, it has to be done carefully. Burning will destroy the medium of the curse, and then they must be drowned in water to lift it. If Parsons is the subject of the curse he knows about it but can't say anything. The spells woven into the curse keep him silent so we have to destroy the witchcraft Jenny used."

"Okay, so how do we go about this?" Pat asked.

"I think we return to the scene of the crime, so to speak. We take the paintings over to the pier, burn them and scatter the ashes in the lake where Jenny lost her life. That will bring things full circle and that ought to lift the curse."

"This is all crazy, you know that?" Barry said. "You both assume this beast exists but there is absolutely no proof of anything."

"Does that mean you won't come with us?" Perry asked.

"Hell yes, you won't catch me anywhere near that place after dark," Barry said. "You're on your own, guys."

"Then ... then we should do this tonight," Pat said. "Parsons is away, the moon is full so we can see what we're doing ... we ought to go now."

"It's your birthday, what would your parents say?" Perry asked.

"We'll do dinner, eat cake and then excuse ourselves to go over to your house, only we'll go to the lake first." And so they had.

The walk up the driveway seemed to take forever. It was so dark under the trees that Pat stumbled off the roadway several times, cursing because he had not thought to bring a flashlight.

"We should have waited for moonrise," Perry laughed, his voice echoing back from the surrounding woods.

Their eyes adjusted to the gloom and the darkness evolved into shades of gray. The top of the driveway was lit by the faint starlight and something else, the moon was rising.

The mill house was completely dark which was a surprise. Most people left some lights on when they went away, but then they had never been up here at night before. At least it meant that John Parsons had left as he had mentioned the other day.

They waded through the grass to the front of the house and walked around the side. The rush of water through the mill chute was loud as they followed the wall towards the rear of the house. Pat was cautious and kept glancing at the darkened windows of the upper floor.

The moon was in the sky at the far end of the lake, leaving a pale wash of light on the water.

"It's pretty," Perry said.

"I don't like the feeling of this," Pat said. "Let's get this over with and get out of here."

He turned to look at the stairs and began counting. There were indeed fourteen steps, Jenny had been right. The basement level of the mill was concealed in gloom under the porch. What was down there? His eyes swept the area but the moonlight didn't shine on those walls.

"We'll go out on the pier," Perry said, holding up the roll of paintings.

"Do we have to?"

"Yes. We'll light the paintings one by one and drop them in the water. You did bring matches, didn't you?"

Pat held up the large box of kitchen matches. "I didn't forget." Then he dropped the box in the yard. He stooped to pick them up and paused. "What the hell is that?"

Perry held up a hand. "Did you hear something?"

"I don't know, maybe not. But let's do this and get out of here," Pat replied.

They reached the pier and walked out along the planks towards the far end. Perry set down the roll and pulled out the one of the girl with the aged face. Pat opened the box of matches and pulled out one of the wooden match sticks. He struck it on the box and it flared. Perry held the painting as Pat applied the flame to the corner.

At first it seemed as if the darn thing wouldn't burn, but then a small flame took hold and within seconds it grew to cover half the canvas. Perry was afraid of burning his fingers and when he finally felt the heat he dropped the flaming piece onto the pier.

"I should have brought some tongs," Perry said.

Once the image was consumed he knocked the ash and the remaining piece of canvas off the pier into the water.

"We need a better way to do this," Pat said. "Let me go find some sticks to hold it."

Pat walked back down the pier and over towards the corner of the house. There were bushes and plants against the wall, and he thought there might be something they could use. He started at the corner and worked his way back towards the porch. There, he saw a small pile of sticks and debris up against the wall.

He was leaning over to pick up a stick when he heard the noise. A low rumbling sound, a groan ... what was it? Perhaps it was only his imagination. No, there it was again. He grabbed a handful of short sticks and ran back across the yard to the pier.

"I ... I heard something," Pat whispered.

"What? Oh good, you found some sticks," Perry said.

"I heard a noise from under the porch," Pat said.

"I didn't hear anything ... strike another match," Perry said.

The painting of Michael Berger went up in flames as Perry held the canvas between two sticks. As the flames consumed the entire piece he held it out over the edge of the pier and allowed the remains to drop into the water.

This time they both heard a sound emanating from the basement of the mill. A groaning sound followed by a squeal, as if rusty hinges were being forced open.

"It must be the wind," Perry said.

"There is no wind," Pat replied. "Let's finish this quickly."

Perry held up the image of the mill. It was a shame to burn such a nice work of art, but Jenny's witchcraft had them both concerned. Like the other two it quickly went up in flames and the ashes sizzled when they hit the water.

"Which one next?" Pat asked.

"Does it matter?"

Perry grabbed the painting of Jenny and placed it between his sticks. The moon was shining directly on it and from his perspective it seemed as if the hidden words were already aflame. Pat struck the match and held it to the edge of the canvas.

A scream filled the air around them. The sound was fierce and filled with pain, as if some great animal was being killed. The flames licked at the canvas and Perry concentrated on his trembling hands. The sound came again and with it Pat's own cry of fear. Perry looked up to see what was happening and he froze in place.

There beneath the porch was a large open doorway and from it came the sounds of a beast bellowing in pain and anger. Something was crouched low to get through the doorway and then stood up as it emerged. There was no mistaking the powerful body with the horns of a bull, this was the Minotaur.

Perry dropped the sticks and the painting of Jenny fluttered to the planks of the pier and continued to burn. Pat stepped backwards and almost fell off the pier until Perry grabbed him. The beast was glaring at them as it approached the end of the pier, blocking their only means of escape.

"Strike a match," Perry yelled.

"Huh?"

"I need a flame ... now," Perry screamed, and Pat was startled into responding.

The beast roared as the match flared, and Pat turned to see where he was supposed to hold it. Perry was standing there with the painting held aloft, the words on the canvas glowing in the silvery moonlight. He moved it to the right and watched the beast follow it with his head. The creature seemed to know exactly what it was.

"It won't attack us," Perry said. "Not while I'm holding the painting. This is the curse that keeps it alive ... it knows that."

"And when ... when we burn it what happens?" Pat asked.

"That's the million dollar question, isn't it? Keep lighting matches, they scare the creature."

Pat lit match after match and then Perry grabbed his hand and held the roll of canvas to the flame. The Minotaur roared and began to approach, but the canvas flared and Perry held it pointed down to allow the flames to spread. The beast seemed to stagger as the painting dissolved in fire and Perry couldn't hold on to it any longer.

The Minotaur collapsed at the end of the pier and the painting fell to the planks as Perry clutched his hand, feeling the burns it had caused. The flames quickly faded as the canvas disintegrated into ash, and he swept the remains over the edge into the water.

Pat stared at the beast, and then gasped as the creature began to change. The horns seemed to evaporate from the shaggy head. The huge muscular body and the misshapen head of the creature seemed to dissolve until the only thing that remained looked very human.

"Oh ... damn," Pat said, looking at Perry. "You're hurt ... we need to get you to the hospital."

"Yes ... but wait."

They both stared at the body. The immense features that had defined the beast were gone, leaving behind the body of a young man. Pat walked down the pier and cautiously approached.

"That isn't Parsons ... who the hell ... ?"

"It's Michael Berger ... oh damn," Perry said.

"He needs medical care ... " Pat began to say, and then the lights on the back porch suddenly came on.

The screen door slammed open and John Parsons ran down the steps into the yard.

"Pat? What the hell?" John said, and then he saw Michael. "Oh God ... "

Parsons went to his knees and cradled Michael's head in his hands. The boy groaned and his eyes fluttered open.

"John?" Michael said. "What ... what happened?"

"It's all over now, how do you feel?"

"I feel like shit, my head hurts," Michael said.

John looked up at Perry. "What did you do to lift the curse?"

"We burned her paintings and drowned the ashes. The beast knew what we were doing but it was helpless to stop us. Jenny must have cast a powerful spell ... but then she had help, didn't she?"

John's head lowered and he slowly nodded. "She had the book of spells ... she stole it from me."

"Okay, I'm lost," Pat said. "Perry's hand is burned and Michael looks like he could use a doctor, we need to deal with that."

"Come up to the house and I'll take care of things," John said.

He helped Michael to his feet and slowly escorted him over to the stairs. John looked so very concerned as he patiently allowed Michael to set the pace as they climbed the stairs. If Pat had been asked to describe John's attitude he would have used the word affectionate, but that didn't make sense.

The burns on Perry's hand were minor and confined to several fingers. John sprayed the hand with a topical antiseptic and wrapped the fingers in gauze. Michael downed a few pain pills and borrowed some clothing from John. Only then could they sit down in the third floor living room and talk about what had happened ... and why.

Perry looked at his hand. "Doesn't hurt, thank you."

"I was a medic in the Army," John explained. "But that was a long time ago."

"So what happened here, how did Jenny get involved?" Pat asked.

"I was friends with Jenny," Michael said. "Biggest mistake of my life. She was out there ... I mean really out there in her head. The things she wanted from me ... "

"I think we already know about that," Perry said. "So how did she manage to deliver this curse?"

"That was my fault," John said. "You know she came up here some weekends when my father was gone. After that first shocking visit with her nude on the pier things calmed down. Like you, she seemed interested in the house and its history. She looked at the journals and got the tour just like you did, but her curiosity didn't end there.

"I guess it wasn't until some months later that I discovered the broken lock on the door in the foundation. The basement contains a lot of very old machinery and a lot of debris from before the renovation. If someone had broken in to steal things they would have been quite disappointed since there is no access to the house from down there.

"It was Jenny who let slip that she had explored the basement and come up with some things she thought I might find interesting. But maybe we ought to hear more about that from Michael since he's the one that helped her break in."

Michael had perched himself quietly on the corner of the couch, and now all the attention was focused on him. He looked small and vulnerable now Pat decided, nothing like the beast he had been only an hour ago.

"I ... I didn't know the first thing about this house until Jenny brought me up here. I guess I knew even less about her. I admired her art in class and that's what brought us together, at least in the beginning. We made the trips to the art museums together as part of the art club, but she wanted more from me.

"Junior year was when she first brought me up here to see the house and I met John. She wanted to come up here every weekend when the weather permitted and I began to realize she had a crush on him ... but then so did I. Perhaps Jenny was aware of my feelings about him, but then I've known I was gay since I was a little kid.

"She always wanted to swim in the nude, and now I know she was trying to entice John into sleeping with her. I wasn't here when she propositioned him, but then all of a sudden her focus changed and she started coming after me. I did the only thing I could think of ... I told her I was gay."

Michael looked pretty upset after revealing his big secret, and to Pat's surprise John got up from his chair and went to sit beside Michael on the couch. He held out his arms and the boy slid over, allowing himself to be hugged.

"It didn't end there," John said. "I was having dinner one night when Michael came to the door in tears. He said he had to tell me something about Jenny. That's when I found out she had carried off some old books that contained the tools of witchcraft."

He looked with affection at Michael. "And that was when Michael revealed his feelings towards me, and I shocked him with my answer ... I said yes."

Perry nodded. "So you've been in a relationship ever since?"

"No," John said. "We had only a few months before that horrible girl stirred up her curse and transformed Michael into the beast. He began to feel ill one day and that night as the full moon rose he was transformed into the beast. It must have affected Jenny as well because a week later she drowned.

"That was all thirteen cycles of the moon ago, and every time we had a full moon Michael became the beast. My father was confined to his bed and then he died so I allowed Michael to stay here with me since he was afraid to go home. We made a space in the basement for him to be confined during the monthly cycle. Otherwise he's been up here with me.

"I was devastated by her incredible need for revenge against the innocence of this boy. I didn't know what to do, and then she committed suicide. She knew about the pumps and the danger they posed for anyone swimming near the intake. Perhaps she knew my father was watching and that he would suffer more with her death. But there is no doubt in my mind, she killed herself and left Michael alone with the curse."

Pat sighed. "So if I hadn't found the paintings Michael would have remained a beast forever?"

John shook his head. "I don't know. He's been hiding out and I suppose we were just waiting for something to happen."

"Your little brother told everyone you joined the Army and went to Iraq," Perry said.

"He would," Michael said. "I went home only once and left them a note saying I was going to do that, and then I just disappeared."

"So Jenny found a book of spells in your basement," Pat said. "How did that get there?"

"Abner Wood ... his wife was a witch," John said. "If you had continued to read the journals you would have found references about that. She was considered a healer and not some practitioner of the black arts. The slaves considered her to be a priestess and I guess word got around the community. She had to flee before the church folk thought to burn her at the stake like they used to do in the 1600's. That's why Abner closed the mill and followed her north into obscurity."

"I think we owe John and Michael a little explanation," Pat said.

Perry nodded. "Pat and I are partners as well. The gay thing is kind of new to us, but we're working on it."

John smiled. "I surmised as much. Now that the last remnants of Jenny Hudson are gone perhaps we can get on with our lives."

"Oh ... then I have to tell you," Pat said. "We thought one of you had made her pregnant because her self-portrait seemed to indicate that." He smiled. "But at least we can confirm that one aspect as a total fantasy."

"Thank you both," Michael said.

"You're welcome, but just one more thing," Pat said. "When you see your little brother again I want you to straighten him out. If he keeps on going like he has this past year they'll eat him alive in high school. He's not a bad kid, but he needs his big brother's attention."

"Done deal," Michael said with a yawn.

"I think it's been a long day," John said. "Michael needs his rest. Let me give you boys a ride home."

"I'd appreciate that," Perry said.

"I want you to come by any time you want to see us," John said. "I do want to see that drawing when it's done."

"I should be finished by next weekend. I'll bring it over," Pat said.

They said their good-byes and Michael followed them down in the elevator and out to the front porch. The moon was high in the sky and the yard was lit up with a silvery glow. John led Pat down the steps and Perry turned back to Michael with a smile.

"You don't have to fear the moonlight anymore," He said.

Michael looked up and then stepped out onto the stairs where he could see the moon.

"It may take me a while to get used to it."

"I don't think any of us will ever look at the moon in the same way again," Perry said.

"Isn't that the truth," Michael said, and they hugged.


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