Werewolf Samurai: The Second Kelly Chan Novel

by Gary Jonas

  ***

  Thirty minutes later, I sat at a booth in Illegal Pete’s, a local restaurant/bar. The place was busy with people getting off work and ready for a quick burrito and a beer. I nursed an iced tea and munched on chips and salsa while I read the Gerritsen book. I looked up every now and then, but I had no idea what to expect from Dr. Clave.

  Fifteen minutes later, I was ready to give up, but an older man in a tweed jacket finally approached my table. He had thin wisps of gray hair on the sides of his head and nothing on top. His trousers were tan and his jacket brown. He wore loafers and a button down white shirt.

  “I’m terribly sorry,” he said with a touch of an accent. “I don’t know your name, but you do appear to be the only Asian American woman in this establishment.”

  “You must be Dr. Clave.”

  “Colin,” he said with a nod. “And you are?”

  “Kelly,” I said. “Kelly Chan.”

  “And I understand you have questions about werewolves.”

  “I do,” I said. “Can I buy you something to eat?”

  “Gloria fed me, but I could certainly use a refreshment of the alcoholic variety.”

  “Gloria must be your wife.”

  He shook his head. “Our maid and assistant and more,” he said. “My wife, Joanna, is in Los Angeles filming a spot for a television show about Native American spirits. She’s ever so much better than I when it comes to on camera interviews.”

  “Very well. What would you like to drink?”

  He sat down. “Surprise me with a beer of some sort.”

  I set my book on the table, and moved to the bar. The bartender was a young woman with sandy hair and a big smile. “What can I get you?”

  “Two beers. Something stout. Whatever you choose is fine.”

  “How about Horse and Dragon?”

  “Sold.”

  She set the beers on the counter and I paid her. When I returned to the table, Colin was reading my book.

  “Here you are,” I said and set the beer down.

  He slid the book back to me. “Sorry,” he said. “Curiosity got the better of me.”

  “It’s all right.”

  He sipped his beer and nodded. “Very good.” He took a bigger drink then set the glass down. “What would you like to know about werewolves?”

  “Have you ever seen one?”

  “Goodness no. Most of the stories about werewolves date back to the fifteen and sixteen hundreds. Michel Verdun, Claudia Gaillard, Peter Stumpp, Gilles Garnier.”

  “How about something more recent?”

  “There was the case in Elkhorn, Wisconsin back in the early nineties, of course, and the Topaz slayings in the seventies.”

  “Nothing from this century?”

  “Sorry, I’m an old man, so the older stories feel recent to me.” He gave me a wink. “There are still reports of the dogmen, but other than that, nothing jumps to mind. Myles said you wanted to know about werewolves. I didn’t realize you wanted particular case histories from modern times or I’d have checked my library.”

  “Do you know of any cures for lycanthropy?”

  “The lore on werewolves from reliable sources says there is no cure. Decapitation or silver bullets to the heart are the surefire ways to slay a werewolf.”

  “What about cures involving magic?”

  He looked around, sipped his beer, and studied me for a moment. “You speak as though you need a cure for an actual werewolf. Myles led me to believe you were a novelist looking for legends to use in a book.”

  “Myles was wrong.”

  “A real werewolf? Are you certain?”

  “I wouldn’t waste your time if I wasn’t. I can kill it, but I’d rather find a cure. He has a wife and daughter.”

  “Tonight is a full moon.”

  “Second night,” I said.

  “And you know where the beast is going to be?”

  “If my source was correct, I do.”

  “May I ask where?”

  “Local hotel.”

  “That doesn’t sound particularly safe. What self-respecting victim of lycanthropy would stay in a hotel during a transformative time?”

  “One who’s been captured by some capable warriors. They’re holding him. They may be planning to kill him, but I have a feeling they’ll wait until he sprouts fangs, fur, and claws.”

  “Warriors? You make them sound positively medieval.”

  “Not at all.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “That depends on what information you can give me.”

  “Generally, towns and villages wanted to slay the beasts rather than cure them.”

  “Help me out here, Colin. There has to be some way to cure him that doesn’t result in his death. I have a witch friend who can wield minor magic, and if we need a full wizard, we can probably arrange that.”

  “You’re serious.”

  I just stared at him until he settled back and accepted just how serious I was.

  He frowned. “These warriors you spoke of. What makes you think they can keep the beast at bay?”

  “One of them fought it last night and survived. He was bitten, though.”

  “Oh, dear. This could get out of control.”

  “He’s aware of the problem, and plans to commit seppuku when his job is done.”

  “Like the samurai of old?”

  “He’s something of a modern day samurai.”

  “But you said warriors plural.”

  “He’s working with a team, so I’m going to say they must be warriors or he wouldn’t align himself with them. I haven’t seen them in action.”

  “Do you have a plan? A team of your own?”

  “I don’t need a team,” I said. “I just need a cure.”

  Colin finished his beer. “Allow me to make a phone call.” He took out his cell, and pressed a button. “Hello, gorgeous,” he said. “Did you film your segment? Tomorrow? Did you get a picture with Giorgio? Oh, lovely.” He held up a finger, but he didn’t need to. I understood how things worked.

  I took a drink and leaned back in my seat.

  “Wonderful,” he said. “Listen, Joanna, I have a new friend here who wants to know if there’s a cure for lycanthropy. Yes. I told her. Yes, she’s a woman. Yes, she’s attractive. No. No. No.” He closed his eyes for a moment, then looked at the ceiling for a few seconds then gave me an apologetic look. “You needn’t worry, my love. I only have eyes for you.” He rolled his eyes. “No, my eyes don’t disappear when you’re not around. Fine. I have eyes for only you. Is that phrased with enough accuracy for you?”

  I held out my hand. “Give me the phone,” I said.

  “She wants to talk to you, Joanna. Yes. Really. Okay.” He handed the phone to me.

  “Hello, Joanna. My name is Kelly, and I have zero interest in sleeping with your husband. He’s twice my age and he’s been a complete gentleman.”

  “He’s more than twice your age, and he’d better behave himself,” Joanna said. Her voice was high and squeaky like she’d been breathing helium all her life.

  “Do you know of a cure for lycanthropy or not?”

  “If he was cursed by a gypsy, the curse can be removed by the caster. If he was bitten, or the caster is dead, he’s a goner.”

  “If it’s a curse, can it be removed by someone else? A witch or a wizard?”

  “No, but in my research, I came across a few entries where magic was used to keep the human side in control of the beast when the change occurred. I dismissed them as nonsense, as I doubt any magic could pull off that trick. But I don’t claim to be an expert and you speak of magic as if you’ve experienced it.”

  “I have.”

  “I’d love to interview you about that.”

  “Not tonight. Where were those entries? And did they give specifics?”

  “I don’t remember if there were specifics or not. I think so. It was in a private journal we acquired at an estate sale in London. Put Colin back on.
I’ll tell him which one to look for.”

  “Thank you, Joanna.” I handed the phone back to Colin then pulled out my own phone. I called Amanda.

  She answered on the third ring. “No change on Wakumi,” she said. “Cho asked about you.”

  “Tell Cho hello for me. Then get your ass downtown to the Sheraton. We might have a way to hold the beast at bay and keep Ichiro in control. I’ll text you if you need to pick up any ingredients.”

  “Head downtown now?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s rush hour.”

  “So?”

  “So in order to get downtown before the sun gives way to the moon, I’ll need to use magic to keep lanes open. If I do that, I won’t have the energy to cast any spells for several hours.”

  “We’ll have to make do. Get your ass downtown.” I disconnected and put the phone in my pocket, then I met Colin’s gaze. “Did she tell you which journal?”

  He nodded. “I’ll retrieve it, but I have one condition.”

  I shook my head. “No conditions. Lives are at stake here.”

  “I understand that, but it’s our journal, so I want to come along. I’ve never seen a real live werewolf with my own eyes.”

  “I can’t guarantee your safety.”

  He rose and smiled. “I’ll take my chances.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  The hotel desk clerk tried to stop me from going behind the counter, so I put him in a wrist lock and drove him to the floor without slowing down.

  “Stay down and I won’t hurt you,” I said.

  “Oh my,” Colin said. He had found the journal his wife mentioned without any trouble and now clutched it to his chest as I slipped into the computer system.

  “Password?” I asked.

  The desk clerk blinked.

  “Are you a masochist?” I asked.

  “No, ma’am,” he said. “It’s against company policy to give out private information.”

  “I can hurt you in ways you can’t even imagine,” I said. “I don’t want to do that because you seem like a nice young man, but there are lives at stake here, so tell me your password or the next thing you feel will make you cry for your mother.”

  He told me the password.

  “Smart man,” I said.

  I ran a quick search and found George Patrick’ room number. I saw a button to code a key card for the room, so I made one for us then exited the system.

  “I’m going to call the police,” the clerk said.

  “Knock yourself out,” I said and led Colin to the bank of elevators down the hall.

  Amanda still wasn’t here. As we stepped into the elevator, I gave her a call. I pressed the button for our floor and listened to Amanda’s phone ring.

  “Traffic sucks,” Amanda said without even a hello.

  “How far away are you?”

  “I’m by the Cherry Creek Safeway, so it’s going to be a while.”

  “Clear the lanes with magic.”

  “I’m a witch, not a wizard. I’m out of juice. I need to recharge for at least thirty minutes before I can do diddly or squat.”

  “The moon is coming out. I can’t wait for you.” I gave her the room number in case she caught a break then hung up. I dropped the phone in my pocket and pulled out my gun.

  “Whoa,” Colin said, stepping to the side.

  I grinned at him. “Silver bullets.”

  “Giving up on the cure just like that?”

  “We’ll see.”

  The elevator dinged and the doors swished open. I led the way down the hall to George Patrick room.

  “Wait here,” I whispered, and pushed Colin against the wall where he’d be out of harm’s way. I crept over to the door, slipped the key card into the slot and waited for the light to turn green. When it changed, I entered the room.

  It was empty.

  “Shit.”

  I put the gun away and did a quick sweep of the room. No suitcase. Nothing out of place. The room had not been used, though there were five untouched plates from room service on the dresser. It was a decoy.

  Colin leaned against the doorjamb and ran a hand over his pate. “So much for any excitement,” he said. He leaned out into the hall for a moment then darted into the room. “Maybe I spoke too soon.”

  “I told you to wait,” I said.

  He shrugged.

  The door closed on its own, so I had to open it to step into the hall. Two burly men in gold jackets strode toward me.

  “We’ve called the police,” one of the men said. “Come with us peacefully and maybe you can avoid getting arrested, though we have you for assault as things stand.”

  “Cool your jets, boys,” I said. “We’re leaving.”

  “No you’re not.”

  They didn’t try to manhandle us, but they did ride down in the same elevator, and as soon as the doors closed, I grabbed both men by their balls and used enough force to get their attention.

  “You’re not going to try to detain us,” I said.

  “Okay,” the men squeaked.

  I released them when the elevator opened. They remained slightly stooped and watched us as we walked out the front doors.

  Colin wore a smirk the entire time.

  “Something funny?” I asked when we were back on the 16th Street Mall.

  “I’ve never been thrown out of a building before.”

  “They didn’t throw us out,” I said.

  “Very well. I’ve never been told to leave a building before. My heart is practically thundering in my chest right now. That was invigorating.”

  “You must lead a sheltered life.”

  “I spend most of my time with my nose in a book of one kind or another. Learning all the time. Studying. I always thought I’d write a book one day. Sort of a layman’s guide to the esoteric things in the world. The last time anyone looked at me with violent intent was in the old country before I had my growth spurt.”

  He stood maybe five foot seven on tip-toes.

  “You must have been the runt of the litter.”

  “Only child. Lived with my parents until I was forty-two years old. When they passed away six months apart, I met and married Joanna.”

  “How did you meet her?” I asked as we walked down the street.

  “Oh, it was something of an arranged marriage. We met through a professional matchmaker, had a whirlwind courtship where we saw a good deal of Romania together. Then she and Gloria moved in. They were what they used to call bosom companions before Joanna and I got married.”

  “How nice for you,” I said, barely paying attention. My phone rang. “Sorry.”

  “No, no, it’s all right.”

  “‘I’m downtown,” Amanda said. “Trying to find a place to park.”

  “Cancel that,” I said. “Ichiro wasn’t in the hotel room. We’re on the mall. If we walk up to fifteenth, can you swing by and pick us up?”

  “Cross street?”

  “Welton.”

  “Be there in a jiffy.”

  I hung up.

  “This way,” I said, and led Colin down Welton to Fifteenth.

  Amanda pulled up in her dented Honda Accord. Colin climbed into the backseat and I rode shotgun. The radio was playing “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” by Gordon Lightfoot.

  “Where to?” Amanda asked.

  “I don’t care right now. Just drive.”

  “So I wasted my energy for nothing?” She glanced into the backseat at Colin. “I’m Amanda, by the way.”

  “Colin.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “Could you watch the road, please?” I said.

  “I know how to drive,” Amanda said.

  “Prove it.”

  “Geez. Did someone shit in your Wheaties?”

  “I just hate hitting a dead end.”

  “There’s something you hate hitting?”

  I shot her a look.

  “And maybe I’ll just shut up and drive,” Amanda said.

&nbs
p; ***

  Amanda parked in front of my dojo, and as always, she took up two spaces.

  “Back up and try that again,” I said.

  “The dojo is closed,” Amanda said.

  “One car, one space.”

  “Maybe I’ll just drop you off here and come back next week when the PMS wears off.”

  “You’re my ride back to my car, and Colin will need a ride home later too.”

  “You can Uber it.”

  I narrowed my eyes and Amanda gave in.

  “Fine, I’ll park according to your stupid rules of propriety.”

  She backed up and made a big production out of getting the car perfectly placed between the lines.

  “Are you happy now?” she asked.

  “Ecstatic.”

  I led us into the dojo, flipped on the lights, and opened the door to my office. I sat at my desk while Amanda and Colin each pulled up a folding chair from the other side of the room.

  “Colin,” I said, “can you show her the journal?”

  “I’d be delighted,” he said.

  “What if I don’t want to read a journal?” Amanda asked.

  Colin blanched. “Ms. Chan is armed,” he said.

  “She’s getting on my last nerve,” Amanda said.

  “I’m sitting right here,” I said.

  “Good for you.”

  “Please tell me you two are just playing,” Colin said. “You’re making me nervous.”

  “We’re not going to kill each other,” Amanda said. “But just because she’s a big bad warrior doesn’t mean I’m going to take any of her shit. I drove through rush hour traffic for nothing.”

  “Not quite for nothing,” Colin said. “Perhaps this journal will make it worth your trouble.”

  “Whatever,” she said and accepted it. She flipped through it a bit, and when Colin tried to turn the pages to help her out, she turned in her chair to keep the book out of his reach.

  “It’s just…” Colin shook his head. “Fine. I’ll just sit here.”

  “Are you thirsty?” I asked.

  Colin nodded. “I could go for a glass of water.”

  “Water cooler’s right behind you,” I said.

  “Oh. Would either of you like some water? I’ll happily get it for everyone.”

  “No thanks,” I said.

  “Not thirsty,” Amanda said.