It was a dark and cloudy night, and Tom found himself in unfamiliar woods with no idea where he was or how he got there. Occasionally a full moon peaked through the clouds to cast a mottled silver glow on a narrow path. Gray mist rose from the damp earth. The hairs on Tom's neck rose from the eerie feeling that something evil watched him. From the corner of his eyes, he caught glimpses of strange beings hiding behind trees and flying through the air. Yet when he tried to look directly at them, he saw nothing. An awful stillness, the quiet of a tomb, hung over the forest. No insect buzzed, no bird sang, no animal scurried across his path. He was sure that something dark and evil stalked him. The silence amplified and made terrifying the sound of his own breathing, the thump-thump of his heart and the sharp crack of twigs that broke underfoot.

Through the trees he glimpsed a light and headed for it. In a small clearing was an old-fashioned cottage with a thatched roof with flickering in the windows. Although he had seen nothing, the strange presence seemed a few scant yards behind. He speeded up his pace to a jog as he rushed to the shelter and knocked on the small wooden door. A beautiful woman, almost as lovely as Bridget, answered the door. Her well-endowed figure let itself be known through the rough cloth of the black robe that covered her from throat to ankles and cinched at the waist with a rope. Before he could say anything, she pulled him by the arm into the cottage. She slammed the door and latched it with a heavy board.

"You must not be in the forest after dark. An evil thing lurks out there."

"I felt its presence. Thanks for giving me shelter."

She pointed at a bench next to a rough wooden table. "Are you hungry? I'll get you something to eat."

Strangely he had an appetite. "Thank you again. Who do I owe a debt of gratitude for saving my life and providing such hospitality?"

As she ladled something that smelled delicious from a large iron pot hung over the crackling fireplace, she said, "I am called Morgaine. Although some refer to me as The Witch."

"Thank you again, Morgaine," he said as she placed a bowl of stew in front of him. "My name is Tom. Why do people call you a witch? Because you live alone out here in the forest?"

"That, and the fact that I am a witch." Her laugh was light and musical.

"Really? You don't look like a witch."

"What do you know about what witches look like?" She removed two goblets from a cupboard and filled them with a wine so dark it was almost black. She set one before Tom and the other on the table opposite him where she took a seat.

"Only from story books my mother read to me as a child. The witches in them were old and ugly."

She laughed her tinkling laugh again. "Am I not old and ugly?"

"The opposite. You're the most beautiful woman I ever saw except for my girl friend."

She frowned. "So your girl friend is prettier than me." It was a challenge.

He shrugged, not taking the bait.

She reached across the table and stroked his cheek. "Even though your girl friend is more beautiful than I, being a man, I'll bet if I let you, you'd make love to me."

He flushed. The woman was obviously coming on to him. He loved Bridget too much to cheat on her. He changed the subject. "What did you mean when you said you're a witch?"

"I mean I can do magic. Watch." She mumbled some words that sounded like nonsense and clapped her hands. Her robe vanished. Instead, she was wearing a halter top and tight jeans. He saw that her body was indeed spectacular now that much of it was uncovered.

He finally realized where he was. "This is a dream, isn't it?"

She smiled enigmatically. "Perhaps. Or it may be that I've transported you to world that you probably don't believe in."

"Why? To seduce me?"

"That might be one reason. You're a handsome man. But main reason is to warn you. Money will bring you to an evil place, a place where horror dwells."

"You sound like one of my priest's sermons. What sort of horror? Like that thing that was following me in the woods?"

"Perhaps the same, but possibly worse. Be forewarned. Don't go to the place of evil."

"What place of evil?"

Before she answered, he woke up. He felt a chill, not the chill of cold, but the chill of dread of something ancient and awful. He got up and went to the bathroom. He decided that the nightmare had been a result of Bridget's talking about his horoscope in the newspaper, all that business about a mystery woman changing his fate.

The sign over the overhead garage door said, "Bongiglio Construction. General Contracting and Carpentry, No Job Too Large or Too Small." Since Tom had taken over the business from his father, it had been the "too small" jobs that prevailed. A regular-size door allowed foot traffic and customers to enter. The building was filled with stacked two-by-fours, plywood, wallboard, roofing and other supplies needed in the business. A four-by-four pickup squatted in the middle. Along one wall were shelves and workbenches. The shelves contained a variety of nails and other fasteners, miscellaneous hardware, paint, glues, plaster, brushes, small tools. Under one workbench was space for power tools. Other power tools were scattered about. The floor in the work area was littered with sawdust and other debris. A corner of the small warehouse had been partitioned as an office. This is where Bridget spent her days.

About ten in the morning a well-dressed woman entered through the pedestrian door. At the time, Tom and the crew were out on a small residential job. The woman gazed around and called out, "Hello. Anyone here?"

Bridget hollered, "Back here." She came to the door of the office. As the woman approached, she asked, "May I help you?"

"I'm looking for Tom Bongiglio."

"He's out right now. I'm his bookkeeper and secretary. Is there anything I can help you with?"

The woman held out a gloved hand. "My name is Melody Ellul. My husband and I need work done on a house we own."

Bridget shook her hand, thinking, A job. And this lady looks like she's got money. She's the one that's going to change Tom's fate, exactly like his horoscope predicted. Aloud, she said, "Come into the office and have a seat. Would you like coffee?"

"Don't mind if I do."

Bridget poured the woman and herself a cup from the coffee maker that rested on a low file cabinet. "Sugar and cream?"

"Sugar substitute if you have any. No cream."

"Doughnut." Every morning, Bridget stopped at the bakery. Usually, the work crew ate the doughnuts up before they left, but this day they were gone before she got there.

"No thanks."

After Bridget got back behind the desk, she asked, "What sort of work are we talking about, Mrs. Ellul?" She noted that the woman wore a wedding band and an engagement ring with an enormous diamond in it.

Melody said, "My husband and I own an old white elephant of a house upstate. We've sort of neglected it. It's been closed up for years. We want to move back into it, but it needs extensive repairs."

"Upstate? How far upstate?" Most of the jobs Tom did were in New York City, Long Island and occasionally in a suburb in New Jersey or Connecticut."

"Near Woodstock. Do you know where that is?"

"I've heard of it. Wasn't there a big rock concert there in the nineties?"

"Actually, the concert was in Saugerties, which is the next town over. It's about a hundred and twenty miles north on the New York thruway."

"That's a little far. It would have to be a big job to pay us to travel that far."

"Oh, I'm sure the repairs could easily come to over a hundred thousand dollars."

Bridget almost choked on her coffee. This was the kind of job they had been hoping for. "Okay. I believe we can handle that. Tom would have to look at the building and work with you on the details of what needed to be done before we could give you an estimate."

"Of course. When would you be able to travel up there?"

Bridget pulled out their battered appointment book. Actually, since no jobs had been scheduled, the coming week was blank. "How about next Wednesday?"

"Okay. We'll pick you up right here in our limo. How about nine A.M." It's an hour and half drive."

"Fine." She noted the date and time in the date book. "By the way, how did you hear about us?"

"A friend of ours, Raven Lenore, recommended you. You did some work for her last year."

Bridget recalled Raven. She owned an apartment in Manhattan that she wanted decorated. Some carpentry work was also needed. She recalled that Raven had been a tough sort of woman and a little bit creepy, who owned a big Harley motorcycle. Nonetheless, she had been friendly and easygoing. "Oh yeah, I remember Ms. Lenore. She seemed like a nice person. But that was a small job."

"Nonetheless, you must've impressed her with your efficiency and honesty. She's not one who's easily fooled by people."

They shook hands again, and Bridget walked Melody to the door. "See you, next Wednesday."

"Chaio. Wednesday it is."

That evening when Bridget broke the good news, Tom opened a bottle of Chianti, and they celebrated. Tom said, "From now on, Baby, I'm going to check my horoscope every day."

Soon they were both plastered and began to rip each others clothes off. They made love on the living room carpet.

The next morning at breakfast, Tom told Bridget about his dream. He left out a two facts though. One was that the beautiful witch came on to him and that the dream frightened him. He did tell her about the witch's warning though. "I wonder what made me dream of witches and forests."

"You know, Tom, a dream like that may be a message, a portent."

"Sure. I'll bet it's from my dead Aunt Millie warning me to go to church every Sunday or I'll go to hell. She was a witch if there ever was one."

"You make fun. But I'm sure it was a clear warning from a supernatural source. Besides, it wouldn't hurt for you to attend mass with me more often."

Tom made a motion of dismissal. "Hey, I work hard during the week. I don't like spending half my Sunday in church. Attending mass three or four times a year is plenty. As far as the dream being a message from the great beyond, even if it was, I don't understand it."

"Tell me again exactly what the witch said."

"She said, 'Money will bring you to an evil place, a place where horror dwells.' See, it makes no sense. It was simply a dream. Let's forget it."

Bridget did not reply. She knew him well enough to know when he wanted a subject dropped.

Since it was Saturday and no work projects were on the agenda, after lunch Tom settled down to watch a football game on TV. Bridget figured that it was her chance to consult her favorite psychic about what Tom's dream meant and about Tom's business.

"Tom, I'm going to the mall for a while."

He was already immersed in the game. "Sure. See ya later."

She pecked him on the cheek and walked out of the door.

Madam Katona's home and place of business was a first floor flat in an old brownstone. A small sign on the door read, "Madam Katona. Psychic. Tarot Card, Palmistry and Crystal Ball Reading, Seances Held by Appointment Only." Each time Bridget walked into that apartment, she felt that she had stepped through the fabric of time into a bygone era. Madam Katona led her into the murky and mysterious parlor, a crowded conglomeration of threadbare overstuffed sofas, shiny leather chairs with worn seats and round tables covered with colorful silk doilies with long fringes on a faded Oriental carpet. Lace curtains decorated the windows, and the odor of incense permeated the thick, musty air. Pots with large ferns squatted in the corners, flower and herbs graced every windowsill and ivy trailed leafy tendrils from ceiling-hung planters. Several shelves contained books and knickknacks in a chaotic order.

Madam Katona was going on sixty, had a thousand wrinkles and deep creases in her bronze face, and wore long skirts with a colorful pattern, a peasant blouse off her shoulders and a bandanna to keep her long unruly white hair in place. She spoke English with a thick accent that Bridget was unable to identify.

"How may I help you, child?" she asked as she led Bridget to a chair at the round table where she conducted her business.

"My fiance and I are about to embark on a new venture. I'd like to know whether it will turn out well or badly. Also, I want to tell you about a dream that my Tom had. Maybe you could tell me what it means." She told Katona about the job offer and related the essence of Tom's dream. She finished by repeating the witch's words.

Katona looked at her quizzically. "Are you thinking that your fiance's new opportunity and the dream witch's warning are related?"

"I don't know. That's why I came to you for advice."

Katona stroked her chin, which had a mole with a single white hair growing out of it. "I think the best way to proceed is to consult the Tarot. It will supply the answers to your questions." She removed a battered fortune telling deck held together with rubber bands from a drawer in the table. She handed them to Bridget who shuffled them and handed them back. She mumbled something in her native tongue that sounded like a prayer, told Bridget to concentrate on her questions and laid out ten cards face down in the form of a five-pointed star. When she finished, she set the remainder of the deck to one side and turned over a card in the center of the star.

It was the three of pentacles. "Ahk, this is good. It say that hard labor reaps great rewards."

Bridget clapped her hands together. "Tom's business. We're finally going to cut a break."

However, when the next card turned over was Death, she cried, "Oh no."

"Hush child, the card Death does not necessarily mean an actual death but a change in your life. Something in your present life is coming to an end. It also augers an opportunity for a new life."

She turned over another card, the Wheel of Fortune. "This indicates a change of fortune, whether for good or ill. So far the cards say that there will be great changes in your life, but good fortune will arise from them."

The next card was the devil upside down. Madam Katona drew back a little. "This might be bad. The Devil card indicates danger."

"The witch in Tom's dream also spoke of danger, but what sort of danger."

"We shall see." Another card was turned, the Queen of Cups. "The Queen of Cups indicates that a mysterious woman, possibly one with psychic powers, will enter your life in a disturbing way. Perhaps she is the danger."

"I see."

Katona turned over four more cards, all of which seemed to saying more of the same thing. The final card was The Moon upside-down. "Yes. The danger you face is definitely involved with someone with paranormal abilities."

She turned her face away from the cards to face Bridget directly. "I believe the Tarot is telling you that this new venture will be successful and bring you good fortune. But it will also change your life in an unusual way. Also, there's danger from a female, someone with paranormal powers. Use caution if you should meet such a person."

"Thank you Madam Katona."

Bridget slipped a fifty dollar bill in an earthen jar on the way out. Madam Katona never asked for money. She simply told her clients to leave whatever they thought her advice and predictions were worth, according to their means. Bridget thought the reading was well worth the money. She was happy. Things were going to work out.

After Bridget left, Madam Katona stared at a card she did not interpret and muttered to herself, "Why do I have a feeling that the child will encounter some dreadful evil, some terrible thing from another dimension that does not belong on this earth? Perhaps, I should've warned her. But I did not want to frighten her with an old woman's vague impressions." The card was the six of swords, a card associated with the demon Asmodeus.

On Wednesday morning, Tom let out a long low whistle as he saw the stretch limo that pulled up to his place of business. "Boy, these people are really loaded," he said into Bridget's ear.

She whispered back, "He's a famous psychic and astrologer. I understand that his clients include movie stars, famous athletes, powerful politicians and billionaires."

The chauffeur exited the vehicle and held the back door open for the Ellul's to exit. Bridget introduced Tom to Melody, and Melody introduced her husband, Michael, to both of them. Bridget was impressed by the psychic. He was urban, witty, friendly and exceptionally handsome in a rugged masculine way. His simple sport shirt and jacket and tan slacks were tailor made and of expensive material. He spoke in a deep baritone like a radio announcer, and his warm smile brought deep creases around his mouth and eyes. Although his shoulder-length hair and neatly-trimmed beard were salted with gray, in other ways he appeared youthful. The same could be said of Melody. They were the kind of couple whose age was impossible to determine by looks. They could have been anywhere from their late thirties to early fifties.

But what most impressed Bridget about Michael Ellul though were his eyes. They were the most penetrating she had ever seen, pale blue, with heavy brows and a little sunken. They seemed almost unearthly. His gaze was absolutely steady, ardent, quiet and powerful. As those strange eyes met hers, a deep shiver went up her spine. She felt as though he could control her with them if he decided to. She thought to herself, Boy, if I didn't love Tom, I'd make a play for this guy, married or not.

On the way upstate, Michael told Bridget and Tom that he had named his home in the country "Moonwood" because it sounded like a place where an astrologer would live.

Melody said, "And because you're an unholy heathen."

Michael shrugged. "You Christians believe that anyone who believes differently than you is unholy."

After this exchange, Bridget became curious about the couple's religious preferences. "Uh, Melody. What church do you belong to?"

"The true church. I'm Catholic."

"So are we. If we need to stay in Woodstock, you'll have to introduce us to the local priest."

"The truth is I haven't attended any churches in the Woodstock area. I'm not as devout as my previous statement might make you believe. I like to pull Michael's chain sometimes."

They went on to other subjects: the weather which was fine for the middle of October, the loveliness of the autumn foliage along the Thruway, their favorite sport's teams, and how the couple's met.

Bridget said, "Tom and I met in college. We both went to Queen's College. My roommate fixed us up on a blind date. We hit it off right away. We're both Catholic, from the same neighborhood and interested in building and fixing houses. I took courses in interior decorating and architecture although sad to say I never graduated." What she did not tell them was that the reason she quit school was that she became pregnant with Tom's baby and they married soon after. However, she lost the baby soon afterwards. Tom also did not graduate. He quit when his father wanted his help to run the business.

They passed endless woods, rock formations and run-down farms during the hour and half hour drive. As they exited the superhighway, the rounded blue peaks of the Catskills came into view. A curvy two lanes took them into the Woodstock, a quaint village that reminded Bridget of Vermont. From there the limo crawled along a steep, narrow road that twisted and turned like a corkscrew along steep cliffs, by waterfalls, thick woodland and around sharp hairpins.

The turnoff for Moonwood was a rutted dirt trail barely wide enough for the car. They bumped along this until they reached a six-foot high stone fence topped with barbed wire. Using a remote control, the chauffeur opened a black wrought iron gate of spears and fancy scrollwork. The rest of his driveway was paved and wound around a hill of a vast estate, with stands of trees, gardens, well-mowed meadows and a small lake.

"Holy smoke," Tom cried. "All this is yours?"

Michael smiled. "Yes. I wanted a hideaway where I would not be disturbed by neighbors. I fell in love with the place the first time I saw it. Since I have money, I thought why not. Besides, at the time real estate prices were not what they are now. I'm sure if I sold the place today, I'd make a good return on my investment."

They made a final hairpin and drove up a curved driveway to the front porch of an enormous Victorian mansion with wings and towers and porches and covered with artistically carved gingerbread. Nonetheless, its neglect was obvious. It looked abandoned. Many years had gone by since it had been painted. It had taken on an ugly gray coloring streaked with pea green moss and sickly yellowish black mildew. The roof contained great dark blotches and was missing many shingles. Trees were growing out of the gutters. Broken windows in some of the upper story rooms were boarded up. The large front porch leaned to one side and looked ready to collapse. Bridget's heart went out to the ancient building. It had been inflicted with a disfiguring disease brought on by neglect and old age, like a sad old person left to die in an uncaring home.

She glanced at Tom. She could tell that the wheels were going around in his head. He was gauging what needed to be done to fix the damage they could see.

The interior was in better shape than the exterior. Bridget peered around the foyer. It was the quintessential rich man's palace, beautiful oak paneling everywhere, a theater-sized staircase in the center of the room (although the railing was loose and needed to be restained), a three story high domed ceiling was hung with an enormous chandelier, the floor was highly-polished parquet and several doors led to other parts of the house.

Tom brought out his notebook to take notes as the Elluls gave them a tour of the house. He examined everything. He opened cabinets and looked under sinks and behind furniture. Bridget merely gazed around in awe although the place smelled as musty claustrophobic as a museum. In addition, she had a strange feeling about the house, that there was something unnatural and odd here and that it held some mysterious secret that had she known what it was would have frightened her. She shrugged this off as an effect of its neglect and emptiness.

Tom noticed that the circuit breaker box was in the kitchen. "That's unusual," he said. "In most houses they put these in the basement or the garage."

Michael said, "The former owner probably wanted it handy. I knew I found it so. Breakers are always tripping and needed to be reset."

Tom shook his head. "That could mean electrical problems." He examined the wires leading to the box. "I can see why. This wiring is fifty years old if not older. It must be upgraded for safety sake. You could have an electrical fire."

"Won't that meaning tearing up walls?"

"Not necessarily. Depending on what's in back of the plaster, there are ways to run wiring through walls without ripping them up. If not, new wiring can be run along the molding where it won't be unsightly."

"What about the old wires?"

"The electrician would just disconnect the ends and snip them off short where they enter the wall and spackle over the hole."

"In that case, by all means let's replace the wiring. I've always been afraid of an electrical fire."

"Do you want to show me the basement now?"

Michael looked embarrassed. "Uh ... y'know. I don't know how to get down there. In fact, I'm not even sure there is one."

"It should at least have a crawl space. Maybe the entrance is outside. In these old places they sometime put them behind the back of the house."

Michael shrugged. "I've never seen a door or any way of accessing the basement."

"Maybe there isn't one then. I'd sure like to check the foundation. Although, it may be okay. They built these old houses to last. How about the upstairs?"

"Certainly."

They climbed up to the second floor and looked at several bedrooms, storage rooms and bathrooms. At one end of a hallway, there was a locked door. "Where does this go?" asked Tom.

"The east wing. It's been closed off since I bought Moonwood. There's nothing back there except empty rooms and old furniture left by previous owners. I wouldn't bother with it."

Bridget thought it was strange that there was a whole wing that Michael apparently did not want them to see and no entrance to the cellar. It was almost as though he had secrets that he was hiding. She wondered whether that was what had given her that strange impression earlier. She glanced at Melody to catch her expression. It was that of a poker player with a bad hand whose bluff has been called.

Tom said, "Even if you don't want it repaired, my men might have to go into it."

"That's okay. I'll give you keys for every part of the house."

"I guess I've seen everything except the attic."

"There's no real attic. There's a tower room though. It's got quite a nice view, although the walls need work and the ceiling is cracked."

They examined the tower room and returned to the kitchen. Melody took four beers from the fridge and poured them into glasses.

As Tom sipped his beer, he said, "I think I've seen enough to work up an estimate. When I've completed it, I'll give you a call."

"Great."

After they finished their drinks, Michael rounded up the chauffeur, and they returned to the city.

When they returned to their own apartment, Tom said, "I'd ballpark the job at two hundred grand if Mister Ellul lets me do everything on my list. There's so much work and the distance is so far, I'll need to live up there during the week though."

Bridget said, "You mean we'll be living there. I'm going with you. But what about your crew?"

"I think Jack and Bob will go. They're single and need the money. I don't know about the rest. I may have to hire people locally. Those country yokels are probably starving for work. I won't have any trouble."