Falling Silver

by Anne Maclachlan

  “What do you think about last night?” ventured Lara Whitehead, and a hushed, sometimes quietly tearful discussion followed. Whether it was a maniac or a made-up monster was irrelevant; it was not going to be safe in Pigeon Creek until either the Hunters or Bill Moore caught him. The unanimous vote was that the Hunters stay, but the guests’ opinions on leaving town were divided.

  “No, please stay here,” Karina insisted as they offered to move on. “There are crowds of people out there now, even if they are a bit morbid. And the Hunters have to be some help no matter what kind of psycho is out there. Nothing is going to get in here, and nobody weird will come near the place,” she smiled, and turned away into the kitchen before they saw the fear in her eyes.

  Simon must have spent the night in the guest house, right under their noses after all. How he could have maintained control was beyond her, and she picked up a nearly empty coffee can. It seemed that her very own house had become headquarters for all the activity. The neighbors chipped in with the food they had brought along, feeding and watering the ghoulish crowds who’d driven in from afar. Each gawking visitor seemed to be hoping for an appearance by werewolves, if not the “escaped lunatics” of childhood campfire tales.

  “They’re saying werewolves! It’s not werewolves,” scoffed a professorial type who gratefully accepted some hot tea. “It’s extraterrestrials. Nobody will tell you that, though.”

  Karina spent the next few hours passing out water and hot drinks to the people outside, keeping her personal houseguests in good spirits, face-painting the Whitehead children and giving them paper and colored pencils to play with.

  Simon was in a foul mood when he returned after leaving the Hunters camped in their heavy vehicles to catch up on sleep.

  “Do you have to feed all of Minnesota?” he growled, trudging up the steps and elbowing an annoyed Bill out of the way. Karina stifled her snappish reply when she realized that Simon hadn’t seen the sun properly for all the drizzle and his time deep in the woods.

  “Are you going to stay in the guest house again tonight?” she asked quietly once they were alone in the kitchen.

  “No.” Simon leaned against the counter and grinned in the way that always took her heart. “I almost blew it last night when your boyfriend was talking to those college girls. I wanted to smash out the window and give him something to arrest,” he laughed. “So no, tonight will be worse, and then tomorrow is Apex. I’m not coming near this place. Rina, I don’t want to be overheard. Come over to the guest house and listen to me.”

  They strolled past the last of the crowd. Chased off by Adam’s gang, the ghouls had dispersed into their vehicles and were leaving as the afternoon threatened to draw to an early, stormy close. Soon only Bill and the Hunters remained around the grounds.

  Once they’d reached his quarters, Simon spoke quickly, warning her to stay inside the main house no matter what she saw or heard.

  “I know exactly where the silver threads are,” he explained, “but Vertigo doesn’t. I can leap the ones on the perimeter, because I installed them so I could come close to the house if I needed to. Vertigo knows the risk and might not chance it. And if it comes down to a battle between me and Vertigo, Rina honey, even I will not recognize the people I know and care about.” He raised his eyes, “I’ll just take out everybody within range, and so will he. And for now, keep me happy, will you? Stop feeding the masses unless they have a reason to be here.”

  Rina reached over to brush the hair from Simon’s forehead and his heart stopped. He gripped her forearm until it hurt, staring at her wrist. “How the hell did that happen?” he demanded hoarsely, staring at the V-shaped nick that bled ever so slightly.

  Crash and Burn

  Simon’s irises were beginning to edge with pale blue.

  Karina glanced at the clock; it was too early for this to be happening. Simon’s fingers gripped her so tightly that she almost couldn’t feel her hand.

  “Remember.” Simon’s voice dropped and it terrified her.

  “I do — I do remember him. He was raggedy, he just wanted water and — he kept staring. He was a little strange, but there were so many people around that I wasn’t worried about it. Simon. You’re morphing.”

  “I’m not.” Simon released her and looked away. “That was Vertigo. He’s marked you. Rina, for God’s sake, come back to the house with me now, and gather every piece of silver you can.”

  “It’s all in the safe deposit box,” she reminded him.

  “Stay away from the windows, then, at least, so he can’t identify you by sight. Dammit, he’ll scent you, though. I’ll let the Hunters know. Maybe your boyfriend will guard the porch again but we’re going to give him something useful to do. GO!”

  Karina’s hands fumbled the door latch, and she turned to pour all her emotions into him silently.

  Simon returned her look yet didn’t seem to see her properly. He was morphing, she was sure of it, and as he shuddered, he hissed, “I feel him; run NOW!”

  “I love you!” she wanted to scream, as if she’d never get the chance again, but instead backed away and ran to the main house. “I think Simon is coming to talk to you,” she called to the Hunters as she ran across the now-empty grounds and up the steps, gathering her guests into the stone cottage for a lockdown. How odd it felt, explaining quietly to the adults that a madman might be planning an attack.

  Everyone was surprisingly calm, and Karina watched the Hunters leap into action, Simon shading his eyes and hunching while pointing out the likely avenues of assault.

  Run, Simon, run now! What terrified Karina most was not Vertigo but Adam. He had to suspect the truth, as Bill did, and from the living room window she could see the look on the Hunter’s face as those suspicions grew. Simon was hunched over, ostensibly searching the ground, refusing to meet Adam’s icy gaze.

  Suddenly, Simon shot a look at the window, and was gratified to see the curtain drop and the glass darkened by a blind. Fine threads of silver glinted in the dull light, and he flinched. He turned back to see Adam’s half-smile and the satisfaction it betrayed.

  “You know a lot about this,” Adam observed.

  “So do you,” snarled Simon quietly and headed rapidly for the woods.

  The Rush was coming early, and he couldn’t hold it off as well as usual. Vertigo had to be close by, triggering the intensity, but Simon couldn’t scent him. He was already well into the woods, running much faster than humanly possible, and for the sake of covering his own tracks, refrained from pulling off his jacket and sweater. The shoes had to go and went soaring high into the treetops; he figured his jeans were probably not going to survive the night but kept them on. The adrenalin began to flow, and Simon felt the familiar tingling between his shoulder blades.

  His hands began to lengthen uncomfortably, and he noticed, startled, that they were beginning to take on the more wolflike shape of Apex rather than Second Night. My god, he wasn’t far enough into the woods and he couldn’t be near people … oh, Rina … but it didn’t matter, as the tingling crept up his spine to his jaws, his vision dulled and then sprang back into sharpness. His ripped clothing was restrictive and frustrating in the extreme; what was left he shredded off himself with his razor claws, snarling, tearing it to bits and chewing the pieces like like the lunatic he’d become.

  And there! Simon smelled Vertigo and threw back his head, howling long and hard, streaking into the new darkness after his prey.

  The Firewolf had been tracking him; within seconds they were on top of one another. Their shrieks and howls reached the house, to set the patrolling Hunters on edge and the company inside, horror-stricken, huddling together. Outside, Bill suddenly needed yet another pair of trousers.

  “There!” Adam’s blood was up now, and he sent an armed and grateful Bill to the porch to stay out of trouble. “Don’t wander off too far, now, Bill,” he laughed after the toddling Acting Sheriff. “Once you hear that charming blend of Harley Davidson and fire siren, it’s too late
to run!”

  He turned quickly to his Hunters. “That’s two of them, all right. Well boys, we’ll get to see how Silverizing works in a few minutes,” and he laughed again. His companions aimed their rifles at the direction of the rapidly approaching howls and found they could not breathe.

  Two rifles fired and missed as the werewolves, one golden-yellow and one black, hurled out of the woods and straight for him. Bill screamed as the yellow one, without stopping, took the head clean off Travis Figueroa and aimed itself right at the deputy.

  Only Adam’s howl of rage was louder as Bill screamed again, wheeled, shouldered open the door and launched himself into the crowded living room with the two beasts at his heels. Both creatures easily leaped the Silverized porch and landed neatly inside, squarely on the carpet; a third silver shot, not even close, splattered high on the living room wall. Outside, two guns reloaded, and the screams inside the cottage wouldn’t stop.

  Just as the yellow wolf Vertigo lunged at Karina, Bill slipped in front of it and fell to its fangs.

  He lost his humanity in a heartbeat.

  Sickened, Karina saw the instant change as Bill, whirling in agony, became a yellow beast, howling with newborn rage. The creature she knew as Simon fell on top of the other two and sank his teeth into Vertigo, and all three werewolves rolled and howled in a tangled mess of teeth and claws away from the humans and toward the kitchen.

  Three things happened. Adam Hunter stepped across the threshold, simultaneously kneeling and firing a silver bullet that hit Bill, immolating him; Vertigo sank his teeth into Simon and then hurled himself over Adam’s head, out the door and onto the lawn to make his escape; and then Simon turned on the crowded room, snarling, dripping, advancing.

  Adam fumbled his next bullet and the beast, sensing the silver, avoided him and lunged for Rob Whitehead.

  “Simon!” Rina screamed and threw herself into its path, “Simon! Simon!” she sobbed the third call, and the black werewolf stopped. It lowered its head, slavering, closing in, just inches from her, snarling low and long. Not even Adam could move.

  Then it was gone.

  Good morning to you, too.

  “Don’t move,” Adam ordered, redundantly.

  The group huddled in Karina’s living room stared at the quickly fading spot of ash that was once Bill Moore. Adam trained his rifle on Karina and his left hand still fumbled with a bullet.

  “Don’t,” Karina began, “No …”

  Adam took a large step forward and lowered the gun. “Don’t move,” he repeated. “That thing dribbled on you. You have a cut there.” Karina jerked back and Adam snapped the rifle up. “You have a cut on your hand! It drooled on you and it’s not sunrise yet! Do not move your hand!”

  There was a collective gasp as Adam stepped forward with the silver bullet in his outstretched hand. “You there, Reese?” His surviving colleague stepped into the house. “Stand ready, then —"

  Adam broke off and turned on Karina as Reese levelled the rifle at her — “I said do not move.”

  Karina now felt the werewolf’s saliva on her hand, edging toward the open, V-shaped cut left by Vertigo the day before. She was too shocked to think. Adam stretched the bullet towards her. “This could hurt, Miss Redfeather,” and as he tapped the silver against her wet hand, the skin surface burst into a phosphorous flash. Her hand was now dry.

  “Did that sting?” Adam stepped closer. “No? Any other cuts? Sure? Let’s check,” and he ran the bullet gently over her exposed skin. Several small flashes erupted. His eyes met Karina’s and she was taken aback by the compassion she saw there.

  “Let’s decontaminate,” Adam spoke to the group, as Reese turned to the door, standing half in, half out.

  “They’re probably gone now,” Reese checked the distance, “but let’s stay put until after sunrise.”

  Each person stepped forward to allow Adam to run the silver bullet check, the little ones curling into their parents’ shoulders and squeezing their eyes shut. The only other flashes, very small ones, were found on Rob.

  Adam suggested that the group disperse into the studio and kitchen, while he detained Karina and sat her on the sofa. The young tourist couple, who had begun whispering together, shot Karina an accusing look before leaving for the bedroom.

  Adam sat down next to her, but was quiet for a moment. Then he smiled slowly. “I wasn’t sure if that was going to work.”

  “The bullet thing?”

  “Yes. It was a shot in the dark — uh — so to speak. From what I could see, you had seconds left.”

  Karina looked intently at the Hunter. His customary arrogance was absent as he continued. “You might have been an unusual blend of Firewolf and Waterwolf.”

  Ah, he was testing her.

  “Not sure what you mean?” she countered.

  “You know exactly what I mean. You called desRosiers’ name three times.”

  Karina put her head in her hands, genuinely exhausted. “I don’t know where he is. I was calling him — he’s my cousin! What if the werewolf got him?” Would such a red herring work on this man, she wondered.

  “You’ve been harboring a werewolf.” Adam was surprised at the shock in her eyes. Could she really not have known? But … “You called him three times,” he repeated.

  “I don’t remember anything except wanting to find him.”

  “Well … not surprising I guess. Simon is your cousin? Lives in the guest house, around sometimes, gone others?”

  “He does a lot of construction and logging work, so it all depends on the season. I hadn’t seen him in years, until a couple of months ago.”

  “The ladies at the diner met him only once, and I find that odd.”

  Karina looked blank. “Why is that odd? Simon lived here, he ate here.”

  “They knew you.”

  Karina hid her face again. “Everybody knows me. They’ve bought some of my art, and there aren’t many other women — why am I even explaining this to you?”

  “Why do you think Simon went into the diner with his friend last month? Casing the place, maybe?”

  Adam had her full attention again. “Oh, you can’t possibly think Simon was involved!”

  So, she wasn’t denying it. He tried another angle, “It could have been his buddy, that old toothless tramp he was hanging around with there. Those murders had all the marks of a Firewolf.”

  “But –”

  “Listen, Miss Redfeather. We know that crazy vagrant’s a Firewolf, because we’ve been tracking him. It’s a short step to think that Simon desRosiers is the Waterwolf that was spotted with him. And you can dispense with the ‘cousin’ farce as well.”

  Karina finally started to shake. “Who is the animal here?” she demanded. “Bill Moore died on my floor! He’s … ” she indicated the only remaining relic of the deputy — his badge, which had been torn off and now lay half under the carpet.

  Adam hesitated in his interrogation. Her distress was real enough, but there would not be much time to get more out of her with all that had to be done before Apex tonight.

  Reese called in, “Sunrise,” and the cottage came to life again suddenly.

  The tourist couple couldn’t get out of the house fast enough, still shooting angry looks at the red-eyed Karina. The Hillstroms weren’t far behind, after leaving their contact information with Adam.

  “Who the hell will believe us, though?” demanded Mr. Hillstrom, ushering his wife out the door.

  “We hope that now everyone will, Sir.”

  “You,” shouted the young tourist at Karina as he entered a Hunter vehicle, “You are messed up!”

  Adam stood up. “Don’t jump to conclusions, now.” Karina stared at him.

  “Yeah.” “Right.” The pair locked the van doors and Reese sped them out of sight.

  Rob Whitehead was more sympathetic. “You saved my life. You risked everything for me and for my family. I can’t thank you enough.” His wife chimed in but the children were still terror-stricken.
The family had gathered their belongings, and by this time Adam was on the phone speaking quietly to who knew whom.

  The children’s wide-eyed silence was somehow as terrifying as the attack. Karina couldn’t take her own eyes from them as her heart broke.

  “Yes, look at them,” Adam said softly over Karina’s shoulder as he pocketed his phone. “This is what you are condoning when you support Howlers.”

  Karina turned to him. “I don’t know what to do about Bill,” she waved a shaking hand toward the badge on the floor but couldn’t look at it.

  “We’ll take care of it after my team is through here,” Adam nodded to Reese.

  Karina stared back at the Whiteheads. “Is everyone … I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know if you want to stay.”

  “Safest thing is to get out of town,” suggested Adam, “and stay away for now. And for the kids’ sake, get them out the back door, if you have one.” He’d blocked the front entryway with his own tall frame. For the first time, Karina saw through the window the decapitated Hunter lying in the dark rain. She let the drape fall, and tried not to vomit.

  Adam saw her face and nodded, speaking quietly to her again. “You ought to feel sick. That’s who he really is. You aren’t doing anyone any favors by protecting Simon deRosiers.”

  “Go away,” Karina finally broke down and sobbed. “Leave me alone.”

  “Honey,” Lara Whitehead put an arm around Karina and drew her into the kitchen with the rest of her family. “We can stay if you like.”

  Karina shook her head, “The Hunters are right. You should be taking the kids as far from here as you can.” Lara gave her another hug and then gathered the children and their toys close to her.

  “I’ve never talked about this,” began Rob as he hoisted his bag to his shoulder, “but we think my uncle was taken by a werewolf, decades ago now. I remember Uncle Carl; he used to come around even after the rumors started, and then suddenly we didn’t see him anymore. We kids missed him; it was sad …”