Lycanthropos
Page 9
Her eyes widened. "His keeper. Is that why he didn’t injure you that night when he attacked the soldiers on the trucks, and again when he escaped from this place?"
"Oh, no, that is not why at all," Blasko said. "When the wolf possesses him he has no awareness of his other self. He has no human thoughts or memories."
"But then why...?"
"Wolfsbane, Donna, wolfsbane. A plant which has the power to restrain him. For the past twenty-five years I have been binding Janos with chains on every night of the full moon and then weaving sprigs of wolfsbane into the links of the chains. When the change comes upon him, the wolfsbane weakens him so that he cannot break free of the chains."
"And you had wolfsbane with you?" she asked.
"The night when the Germans came to arrest us, yes. Not the night Janos escaped from this prison. That night I was merely fortunate, as you and your husband and the colonel were fortunate. Janos wanted to escape confinement more than he wanted to kill us, and so he fled and left us alive."
She nodded. "And it was coincidence that when you were finally arrested, he was arrested too?"
"Again, no, Donna. Janos sought me out. He knew that I would wait for him at the place where the change came over him, and so he returned there. The German soldiers came just a few minutes later."
"How did he know that you would wait for him? Why would he want to go back to you if you kept him in chains? I don’t understand."
"I am his keeper, as I told you. He is not a bad man, my friend Janos. He does not wish to kill. I have been able to keep him from killing for twenty-five years, until that night two months ago when the soldiers came. Until then, he had not killed anyone since he killed my wife and my daughter."
Louisa’s mouth dropped open. "He killed your family!?"
Blasko nodded. "Yes, Donna, that is how we met."
She shook her head. "That’s horrible! I’m so terribly sorry, Herr Blasko."
He nodded, accepting her sympathy. "It was many years ago, Donna, and pain fades with time. I tried to kill him at first, of course. Nothing worked, not even the silver bullet we have been told of. And then he asked me to become his keeper and I agreed. I reasoned that if I could not kill him, at least I could keep him from doing to anyone else what he did to my Visha and our little Lura."
Louisa looked into Blasko’s eyes sympathetically. "It must have been very hard for you, seeing him every day, being with him all the time, knowing what he did."
"It was hard for a long while," he agreed, nodding. "But I have come to understand Janos, even to pity him. He can’t help being what he is, can’t help doing what he does. He is cursed. Donna. That is the explanation of what he is. There is no other."
Louisa’s reply was cut short by the approaching sound of jack boots clicking on the stone floor of the corridor outside the cell. She and Blasko looked over toward the sound and Louisa frowned as the grinning face of her cousin came into view. "Good evening, Louisa," Schlacht said cheerfully. "I trust you and our friend here have been having an enjoyable conversation?"
"Whatever Blasko...Herr Blasko," she corrected herself, determined to afford the Gypsy the dignity of a polite address, at least when discussing him with her cousin. "Whatever Herr Blasko and I have been talking about is certainly none of your business, Helmuth."
"Ah, but I disagree, Louisa," Schlacht responded. "And Reichsführer Himmler disagrees as well, as you know."
"Himmler can feel however he wishes, Helmuth," she spat. "It could not be of less importance to me than it already is." Three of Schlacht’s men came up behind him in the corridor and Louisa blanched slightly, suddenly fearing that her cousin had decided to execute Blasko. "What are they doing here?" she demanded in a slightly tremulous voice.
Surmising the source of her apprehension, Schlacht laughed softly. "Don’t worry, my dear. Our Gypsy friend is not going to his final reward just yet. But he is going to make a contribution this evening to our little project." He nodded curtly to one of his men, who unlocked the cell and then entered it. He placed a pair of handcuffs roughly onto Blasko’s wrists and then pulled the old man to his feet and pushed him from the cell. Flanked by two of the blackshirts and prodded from behind by the third, Blasko was hustled down the corridor.
Louisa rose from the stool. "What are you doing, Helmuth? Where are you taking him?"
"We’re going on a little hunting expedition," Schlacht replied, smiling. "Have you ever gone hunting, Louisa?"
"Of course not," she said. "I don’t see how anyone can derive pleasure from killing animals." She paused. "Or from killing anything else, for that matter."
"Such high moral ground," he observed sarcastically. "And yet I don’t recall ever seeing you refuse to eat meat. Do you think that sauerbraten comes from suicidal cows?"
"I don’t object to killing animals, Helmuth. I just object to enjoying it."
"An interesting distinction. In any event, when hunting certain dangerous carnivores, one method of bringing them within range is to stake out a prey animal to attract them. Our friend Blasko is the prey animal, and we are, of course, hunting a werewolf."
"You wouldn’t!" she exclaimed, horrified and disgusted. "You’ve seen what that creature can do! You can’t just..."
"You misunderstand me, Louisa. We are not yet finished with Blasko. My purpose is to capture the werewolf, not feed it."
"But then how…?"
"Trust me, my dear cousin," he interrupted her, relishing her discomfort. "This has all been carefully planned. And the element of risk should induce our Gypsy here to cooperate with us." He turned and began to follow after his men, saying over his shoulder, "I suggest you wait back in your quarters, or go out and see a little of the nightlife in Budapest, all alone, I’m sorry to say. I’m afraid that your husband is otherwise engaged."
"Helmuth!" she called after him, but he was already gone. She ran after him, but a guard was blocking the door through which her cousin had exited, and she had no choice but to return to the suite of rooms which the S.S. had prepared for her and her husband. Louisa walked slowly up the long marble staircase which led to the suite, alternately weeping and gritting her teeth, filled with anger and sorrow and worry and dread. She entered the sitting room of the suite and locked the door behind her. Then she sat down upon the settee and fretted, watching the hands of the large cuckoo clock turn slowly in their clicking circuit.
Outside in the cobblestone courtyard of the Ragoczy Palace a black Mercedes limousine and a gray troop transport truck waited with idling motors as Blasko was deposited into the front seat of the limousine beside the driver, who gave him a disgusted look and then ignored him. Colonel Schlacht entered the rear of the automobile and sat beside Joachim Festhaller. Gottfried von Weyrauch had been told to seat himself in the fold-down seat which faced the rear window, and his hands fidgeted nervously as he asked, "Helmuth, where are we going?"
"We are going werewolf hunting, Gottfried," Schlacht replied. "Just relax. You are here as an observer, nothing more. "
"I’d rather wait here, if it’s all the same to..."
"Shut up," Schlacht snapped and then turned to Festhaller. "Did my adjutant Vogel fill you in?"
"Yes, for the most part." Festhaller replied. "Are you certain that the plant you obtained is of the correct species?"
"Absolutely. We had it verified by a botanist in Vienna, Professor Hans Edelmann...do you know him, by the way?"
"I have heard of him, of course," Festhaller replied.
"Well, according to him it is most definitely wolfsbane…aconitum lycoctonum, he insisted upon calling it...and we have more than enough for our needs tonight. We have woven the sprigs into the netting and into the chains. If the old Gypsy has told us the truth about the plant’s effect on the creature, then we will be able to render it harmless."
"And if not?"
Schlacht shrugged. "Then Blasko will be a dead Gypsy. If the wolfsbane doesn’t weaken the creature, we will be able to retreat while it feeds on Blasko
."
Festhaller nodded. "Yes, good, good. But Lieutenant Vogel did not explain to me how you hope to find the...the hunting ground of the creature. Hungary is a big place in which to search for one man, Herr Colonel."
Schlacht leaned forward and called out to the driver, "Schnurr, give me the map in the side pocket." The driver pulled a folded map from the cloth compartment in the door and handed it over his shoulder to Weyrauch, who in turn handed it to Schlacht. The colonel unfolded it and spread it out onto his and Festhaller’s knees. "See? Here. And here, and here."
Festhaller squinted to see in the dim light of dusk. The map of Budapest and its environs had been marked in a number of places with red checks, all in the same general area on the outskirts of the city. The Nazi racial expert looked up from the map. "What do these marks represent?"
"Murder sites," Schlacht replied. "The day after Kaldy escaped last month, two people were found torn apart and partially devoured here and here," and he pointed to two of the check marks. "The day after that, after the second night of the full moon, three people were found in the same area, not a half kilometer from the other two." He moved his index finger to another set of check marks. "Last night was the first night of this month’s full moon, and I made certain that any unusual deaths in the area be reported to me immediately. Here and here," and he pointed again, "three locals killed, mauled, eaten, last night."
Festhaller nodded. "Same area."
"Precisely. It appears that Kaldy does not move about much. He probably hides in the woods during the day or hides in a barn somewhere, and then when the change comes on him he hunts, but he doesn’t seem to travel very far."
"So we are headed for the area of the previous murders," Festhaller concluded,
"Yes," Schlacht nodded. "I’m hoping that our werewolf will not be able to resist the bound and helpless meal we are offering him."
"Good plan," Festhaller said. "Risky, though."
"Of course it is. But I’ve been a soldier at war for four years now. Risk is nothing new to me."
Weyrauch wondered to himself how much risk attended the administration of a concentration camp or the arresting of Gypsies in Hungary and Jews in Slovenia, but he chose wisely not to ask. Instead he said, "Helmuth, I really don’t think I can be of much use to you on this little expedition."
"You are along to observe and evaluate, Gottfried, as I explained to you a month ago when we began our project. Now be quiet."
"But…"
Schlacht’s eyes glared at Weyrauch murderously. "Gottfried, if you don’t shut your mouth I shall find myself tempted to stake you out instead of Blasko." Weyrauch lapsed into nervous silence.
The two vehicles drove along the uneven surface of the packed earth road for a half hour as the sun sank ever closer to the horizon. Then, as the sun began to disappear behind the distant treetops, they stopped and a squadron of S.S. climbed out from the rear of the transport truck. Schlacht, Festhaller and Weyrauch got out of the limousine, and Schnurr, the driver, pulled Blasko from the front seat roughly by the arm.
Weyrauch and Festhaller stood to the side and watched for the next few minutes as the S.S. went about setting up their trap. The vehicles had come to a stop beside an indentation in the dense woods which bordered the road, an indentation which, had it been deeper in the forest, would have been described as a clearing. The S.S. soldiers set about sledgehammering a long iron stake into the cold, hard ground, and Blasko was then bound to it by a short chain that was padlocked onto the connecting links of his handcuffs. Then the black shirts began to climb up into the trees on all sides of the clearing, those on the ground passing up to those in the branches the ends of large nets into the mesh in which had been inserted hundreds of sprigs of wolfsbane. Nets similarly adorned were spread out on the ground on all sides of the captive, terrified Gypsy, and the corners of the nets were attached to block and pulley mechanisms, the nexus of which were nailed to the tops of trees.
When the preparations had been completed, Schlacht motioned for Festhaller and Weyrauch to accompany him as he walked over to Blasko. "Herr Professor, how good is your Italian?" The question posed was pro forma, for Schlacht knew full well that Festhaller was multi-lingual, like most reasonably educated Europeans.
"Adequate for my needs, Herr Colonel. Why do you ask?"
"This old Gypsy communicates with my cousin in some barbaric dialect which seems similar to Italian. I would like you to attempt to translate a few questions for me, Herr Professor, if you would be so kind."
"Certainly, Herr Colonel."
"Ask him if we have sufficient wolfsbane to control the creature."
Festhaller posed the question in Italian and Blasko replied in the Romansch dialect. "He says we have more than enough."
"Good. Ask him if the presence of the wolfsbane will act as a repellent, keeping the creature away from us."
The question was asked and answered. "He doesn’t think so, Herr Colonel. He isn’t certain, but he says that the plant does not seem to annoy the creature by its scent. It merely causes weakness."
Schlacht nodded. "Well, we shall see. Herr Professor, I suggest that you wait in the limousine. Gottfried, wait there with him." Weyrauch rushed back into the automobile and Festhaller followed after him, quickly but without haste. Schlacht took his revolver from his holster and reached into the pocket of his tunic. He took out a handful of the specially commissioned silver bullets he had ordered and began to load the gun. No sense in taking unnecessary risks, he thought to himself. And then he too got back into the limousine and waited as the sky grew black and the full moon floated amid the dark clouds. Nothing was visible in the clearing other than the old Gypsy tied to the post. All of the S.S. were up in the trees, and the two motor vehicles sat dark and silent on the roadside.
This has to work, Schlacht thought as he watched from the rear seat of the limousine. We must capture this creature. This simply has to work.
Silence reigned for the next twenty minutes. And then from the near distance came a sound, a frightening blend of a howl and a shriek. It sounded like a wolf, but a wolf consumed by pain and anger and hatred and hunger. Schlacht closed his hand upon the grip of the revolver and looked carefully out at Blasko.
No second howl followed the first. The low moan of the cold alone disturbed the otherwise absolute silence. Five minutes passed, then ten, then twenty.
And then the werewolf emerged from the black darkness of the forest.
Weyrauch shrank down into his seat as Festhaller and Schlacht leaned their faces toward the window, to see what was about to transpire. Festhaller had seen only a film of the creature which was even now creeping into the clearing toward Blasko, and Schlacht had been so preoccupied with his own survival and the immediacy of danger the night Kaldy had made his escape from the Ragoczy Palace that he gazed with wonder at the beast as if he were seeing it for the first time. "Gott im Himmel." Schlacht muttered.
"Teufel aus Hölle," Festhaller corrected him in a hushed, tremulous whisper. God in Heaven, Schlacht had said. Devil from Hell, Festhaller had replied.
The werewolf was as Schlacht had remembered, but the brilliance of the moonlight asit danced upon the sleek fur and illuminated the fangs and talons lent the apparition an eeriness that caused the hair on Schlacht’s nape to bristle. The long, almost simian arms swung from side to side as the creature loped toward Blasko.
The old Gypsy was trembling as the beast drew nigh him, and he screamed, "Janos, it is I, it is Blasko!" in the Gypsy tongue. "Stop, Janos. Stop! Run away! Run away!"
The werewolf, unable to understand the words of its erstwhile keeper, rushed at Blasko; but the sound of a whispered exclamation of astonishment from one of the S.S. in the tree tops reached the sensitive ears of the beast, and it stopped and turned to the sound not two feet before it would have entered the trap. It roared furiously and, with one bound, jumped to the trunk of the tree, its sharp claws digging into the wood as it clambered rapidly upward toward the soldier.
The creature remembered Blasko, remembered the motionless prey in the center of the clearing, and it dropped gracefully from the tree and began once again to rush at the helpless Gypsy. The werewolf crossed unknowingly into the perimeter of the trap, and in an instant the weights were released and the edges of the nets drew together and hoisted the creature up toward the treetops. The werewolf thrashed about madly, but the wolfsbane had its desired effect almost immediately. The muscular arms which had ripped iron from stone were now unable to tear hemp, and with every passing moment the creature became more and more quiescent. Its head lolled as if drugged and its eyes glazed over.
One of the S.S. ran over to the limousine and asked, "Herr Colonel! Shall we cut him down?"
"Absolutely not!" Schlacht replied, masking with imperious irritation the profound delight he felt at the capture of the werewolf. "We will leave him as he is and wait until dawn. He will be considerably easier to deal with when the sun rises."
As the night wore on to morning, a careful watch was kept upon the captive werewolf. It moved only occasionally, and uttered only sporadic moans, making no attempt to escape, showing no evidence of an awareness of its situation. The sun rose in due time, and Weyrauch, who had been a fascinated if terrified witness to the events which had just transpired, rose up from the floor of the limousine and looked about at the clearing. There were S.S. everywhere, most of them dismantling the instruments of capture, a handful keeping armed watch on the captive: but what fascinated Weyrauch most was the sight of Kaldy, once again human in the dim light of early dawn, once again the thin weakling he had first met in the Ragoczy dungeon, huddled on the ground in Blasko’s embrace, his face buried in the older man’s chest, weeping as if the burden of overwhelming sorrow had broken him in two.