Shadow of the Moon
Ri-ing!
Ri-ing!
Robert Langdon slowly opened one eye to look at his ringing phone. Why would anyone be calling at one in the morning? He wondered blearily.
"Hello?" He asked, trying to keep the exhaustion out of his voice. An eerie, breathy giggle crackled through the receiver.
"Hello, Robert." A soft voice whispered. It sounded like a young girl, perhaps fifteen, sixteen at the oldest. "Have you gotten my present yet?" She laughed again, and Langdon realized he was frightened.
"What present? Who is this?" It took all of Langdon's willpower to keep his voice from shaking.
"What present? Why, the one I gave you, of course! And as for my identity, well, why don't you just call me Tsuki, 'kay?" There was more soft, breathy laughter and then the line went dead.
Trembling, Langdon set the phone down. What was that about? Why am I so scared? Something outside cracked, and Langdon jumped. Calm down, Robert, that was just a car backfiring.
And the call? He asked himself.
Just a prank.
When Langdon opened his door the next morning, he felt the bottom catch on something. Curious, he looked. And gasped.
He was looking at a small, square package. It was gift-wrapped.
'Have you gotten my present yet?'
He shivered, despite the summer heat. Just a prank, my foot!
Tentatively, he carried the box inside. Setting it down, he wondered what was inside, hoping that it wasn't a bomb.
Slowly, slowly. He carefully pulled the wrapping paper off, and then opened the box.
Langdon frowned at the contents. At first glance, he thought it was a snow globe, then a crystal ball. Further examination revealed it to be something much stranger. Not to mention much more disturbing.
It was the top part of a skull, seamlessly blended into a piece of white quartz, forming a perfect sphere.
Is that skull… human?
He was reaching for the phone when he saw the note.
Dear Robert,
You're thinking about calling the police, aren't you? If you ever want to find out what happened to the Mona Lisa, I suggest you refrain from doing so. Of course, if you don't care, go on ahead and call.
Now you're wondering what I meant about the Mona Lisa, right? Watch the news, Robert. You should find out.
Love,
Tsuki
She had drawn a leering moon next to her name.
On the back was a phone number.
Langdon whipped around and mashed the power button on the remote.
It was breaking news. The Mona Lisa had disappeared. There was no evidence of anyone breaking into the Smithsonian Institute, yet the painting was clearly gone. Everyone was pointing fingers and no one was taking the blame.
Hands quaking, Langdon dialed the number.
"Nice of you to call, Robert. Was there something you wanted?" There was faux innocence dripping from her tone.
"Tsuki. What did you do with the Mona Lisa?"
"I did absolutely nothing with it. But I did do something to it." She giggled.
"What's that supposed to mean? What do you want from me?"
"It means exactly what I said. What do I want? Simple. I want you to meet me at the Smithsonian. That's all."
"Meet you at the Smithsonian? How am I supposed to do that? The whole area's on lock-down!" Langdon exclaimed.
"Oh, don't be so loud. Besides, it'll be easy." She laughed again and the line cut out.
Langdon cursed. What does she mean 'it'll be easy'? How could that be easy?
Langdon's dreams were troubled. In them, he was swirling through a tunnel of blackness, Tsuki's laughter echoing around him.
He woke up with a start. Feeling cold floor beneath him instead of his bed, he abruptly realized he wasn't at home. But he knew where he was. Exactly where he was.
He was in the Smithsonian, leaning against the wall where the Mona Lisa once hung.
Am I still sleeping?
He heard footsteps and jerked to his feet. Langdon couldn't see the figure clearly, but he knew it had to be Tsuki. Drifting through the shadows, she slowly materialized.
Her skin was pale, silver white. Hair blacker than the shadows she had appeared from hung to her waist. Her blue eyes were piercing. A lavender gray dress wrapped around her thin body. Yet none of these could claim the title of her most striking feature.
That dubious honor was held by a cut. Ragged and crooked, it stretched from one ear, across her slim neck, over her collarbone, terminating among the torn cloth of her dress. Blood was dripping down, staining her attire.
"Wh-what happened to you?" Langdon gasped. Tsuki smiled melancholically.
"I don't remember. It happened so long ago. I try not to dwell on the past too much, so…" She shrugged. It made the gash twitch grotesquely. Her form shimmered, and for a moment she was translucent.
"What did you do to the Mona Lisa? Where did you get that skull? Why am I here?" Langdon was desperate for answers. I don't believe in ghosts, I don't believe in ghosts, I don't believe in—if there's no such thing as ghosts, then what did I just see?
"All I did to the painting was make it invisible. Simple enough, for someone who has been dead as long as I have." Tsuki twitched her hand and the Mona Lisa appeared, as if she had never been gone. "As for the skull, do you mean this?" The eerie artifact sat in her palm, seeming to glow softly in the dim light. "Merely an illusion." It dissolved slowly.
"But what am I doing here?" He wasn't going to ask how he had gotten there; he had a fairly good idea already.
Tsuki laughed the same disturbing laugh that had first made Langdon fear her. "The Reaper will be coming for me soon. I have evaded her for too long."
Her? Langdon wondered. "But what about me?"
"My dream in life was to be an actress. I suppose I wanted someone worthy to watch my final performance." Tsuki smiled again, then gasped. "She's here!"
Langdon watched in horrified fascination as a black slit appeared. It opened slowly, like the eye of someone upon first awakening. A dark gray form oozed from the portal. It seemed to be a shapeless mass. At first, anyway.
A small, delicate hand flitted out from among the voluminous folds of the steel gray cloak. It grasped the edge of the hood and pulled it back, then darted down the front, stopping momentarily at each button. The Grim Reaper stood before Robert Langdon in all her glory.
Honey-blond hair, amethyst eyes and evenly tanned skin all surprised Langdon. As did an ebony-colored tank top and camouflage cargo pants. She didn't look any older than twenty.
"Tsuki." She said, and smiled. Langdon's blood ran cold. No matter how she looked, this strange woman was the Grim Reaper. Her voice proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt. It was colder than dry ice, but burned more than napalm. There was a slightly grating quality to it. It was not a voice a human could ever have.
Tsuki was trying to be brave, but it was obvious that she was shaking. "Yes, Reaper? What do you want?" Despite her fear, defiance laced her tone.
"You are coming with me, girl." The Reaper's terrifying voice was stern. "I have chased you long enough."
"Of course, milady." Tsuki was sarcastic now, curtsying mockingly.
For a moment the façade slipped. Lady Grim's face grew hollow, her lips pulling back across her teeth. Her hands became emaciated, until they were nothing more than bones with skin stretched across them. Then it was gone, like it had never happened.
Tsuki had seen it. She was trembling openly now.
The Grim Reaper stepped back, motioning for Tsuki to enter the portal. The would-be actress did so slowly, unsure if fear or defiance weighed her steps.
Turning to face him, The Reaper spoke to Langdon, "Don't look so frightened. There is quite a bit of time before I'll be here for you." She laughed breezily. It sounded like the wind whistling through a cemetery. She snapped her fingers. "Go through there. It'll take you home." She was pointing at a dully glowing doorway in the wall.
"I-I will. Thank you." Langdon stumbled to the door, resisting the urge to turn and see what was happening. Curiosity overtook him as he reached the opening. He looked, immediately wishing he hadn't.
The Reaper had completely returned to her true form. Her clothes hung limply on her skeletal frame. A long, wickedly curving scythe now rested in one hand. She was ushering Tsuki into a tall, black, wrought-iron gate decorated with images of demons and humans, depicted both cavorting and in pain.
Langdon sat up and stretched. That was the strangest dream. What's even weirder is that I remember every bit of it.
Absently turning on the television, he shuffled to the bathroom, but froze when he heard the newscaster:
"Last night, the missing Mona Lisa was returned to her proper resting place. There are no suspects as of our latest report."
Author's note: Tsuki means 'moon'. This is the first non-anime/manga story that I've published. Hope you all liked it! ChiCho out.