He had to pass the carnival grounds on his way to the motel, so Ramsay pulled off there first. He identified himself to the Inyo County deputy who was posted at the entrance. In the tent that displayed pictures of ‘Grolo the Animal Boy’ he found Sheriff Fielding and an agitated little man named Moskowitz, who seemed to be the owner of the carnival.
Fielding gave him a rundown of the previous night’s fatalities. “One of the dead men was Bateman Styles. He ran this Animal Boy thing. Cause of death seems to be a heart attack, but there were suspicious bruises. The other one was definitely not a natural death. Had his throat ripped out.”
“Got a suspect?”
“A pretty good one,” Fielding said. “It seems this so-called Animal Boy hasn’t been seen since the killings. Nobody knows where he went. Not that they’re telling, anyway.”
“You’re on the wrong track there, Sheriff,” piped Moskowitz.
The lawmen looked down, surprised. They had forgotten for a moment that the little man was there.
“What makes you think so, Mr. Moskowitz?” said Fielding.
“The kid did a kind of wildman act, but that’s all it was––an act. When he wasn’t working he was just a shy, sweet-natured kid. No way he could kill anybody. Besides, he thought Bateman Styles was Jesus Christ.”
Ramsay had a sudden thought. “What was the name of the second victim?”
Fielding consulted a notebook. “The name in his wallet was Wayne Pastory. A doctor, apparently.”
The muscles tensed in Ramsay’s upper back. “I know that one,” he said. Briefly, he filled the Inyo sheriff in on Pastory’s background in Pinyon.
“Could you take a look at the body and give us a positive ID?” Fielding said.
“Sure. But there’s something I have to do first.”
“Check on your Dr. Lang?”
“I’ll get back to you.”
* * *
Holly Lang’s little Volkswagen Rabbit looked so natural and peaceful parked outside unit twelve that for a moment Ramsay felt his fears might be foolish after all. However, the apprehension returned as he knocked and waited for a response.
A woman with glossy black hair and mischievous eyes opened the door. She wore a motel bath towel wrapped around a sensual olive-skinned body.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said. “As you can see. I was in the shower.”
Ramsay pulled his head back and checked the room number again. “I’m looking for Dr. Hollanda Lang. Maybe I have the wrong room.”
“You have the right room,” the dark woman said. “She’s not here.”
Ramsay fumbled out his identification. “My name’s Ramsay,” he said. “Sheriff, La Reina County.”
“I am Lupe,” said the woman. “I was told you might be along.”
“Told? Told by whom?”
The woman shivered. “Do you mind if we go inside? I’m getting a chill standing here.”
Ramsay stepped into the room. Lupe closed the door behind them. He looked over the impersonal motel furnishings, searching for some sign of Holly Lang. Aside from a blue overnight case beside the bureau that might have been hers, he could find nothing.
“Where is Dr. Lang?” he said.
“Why is everyone so interested in finding that woman?” Lupe said. “Won’t I do?”
“I don’t want to play games. If you know where she is, please tell me.”
Lupe pointed up into the foothills that rose immediately behind the motel. “She’s up there.”
“Up there, where?”
“She’s with a friend of mine.”
Ramsay took a step toward her. “Let’s stop wasting time. I want to know where Holly is, and I want to know now.”
Lupe clutched the towel to her breast in mock fright. “And what will you do to me, Sheriff, if I don’t want to tell you? Give me the third degree?”
With an effort Ramsay brought himself under control. “I think we’d better talk to the local authorities. They’re investigating a couple of deaths at the carnival, and they might want to ask you some questions.”
The woman’s green eyes lost their playfulness. “I don’t think you want to have me arrested. Not if you want to see your Holly again.”
Ramsay ground his teeth. “Where is she?”
“I told you––with a friend of mine. His name is Derak.”
“Should the name mean something to me?”
“He is from Drago.”
Ramsay stiffened. “And you?”
“Yes.”
“Jesus.” Unconsciously his hand brushed the jacket pocket that was heavy with the silver bullets.
“I see you are beginning to understand. She will not have been harmed yet, but if you want her to stay that way, you had better be nice to me.”
“What about the boy, Malcolm? Is he with them?”
“If he is not, he soon will be,” Lupe said. Ramsay moved toward the door. “Where are you going?”
“To organize a search of these hills.”
“A search?”
“Men, helicopters, whatever it takes.”
“That would be a mistake. Your men and helicopters did not capture Derak the last time. They are no match for him. All they can do is make him angry. And then what do you suppose he might do to your Holly?”
Gavin stood indecisively halfway between the woman and the door.
“There is another way,” Lupe said in a throaty voice.
“Well?”
In a sinuous movement she pulled away the towel and let it fall to the floor. Gavin stared at the smooth naked body.
“Come make love to me and I’ll tell you about it.” she said.
“Are you crazy?”
The green eyes flashed. “No. I’m hungry. Last night I had a boy. He just gave me a sharper appetite for a man.” She opened her arms. “Come. Let me show you what a woman like me can do for a real man.”
For a moment Gavin was actually close to accepting the challenge. The woman’s body was wonderfully inviting, and the faint musky smell of her made him feel a little drunk.
He shook off the impulse. “I’ll bet you’re something.” he said, “but strange as it may seem to you, I’m not in the mood. See you.”
He turned and walked to the door. As he gripped the knob she called to him.
“Wait.”
He turned back. She reached down and picked up the towel but made no effort to cover herself. “I’ll take you to them.”
He eyed her suspiciously. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I don’t want her to be one of us. That’s what happens, you know, when someone is bitten and doesn’t die. They become… what we are.”
“So I’ve heard,” Gavin said.
“Lately I have been Derak’s woman. I don’t want to share him.”
“All right,” Gavin said. “Get dressed and let’s get started.”
* * *
The first half hour was rough going as the slope grew steeper and there was no usable trail through the heavy brush. Lupe, in spite of her soft shoes and leather outfit, moved easily up the hill while Ramsay struggled. He was breathing hard by the time they reached a trail that angled up the hillside at a more gentle grade.
Lupe was waiting for him as he topped the rise onto the trail. She contrived to brush her breasts against him. “Want to rest? Or something?”
“No, I’m fine. Let’s go.”
She made a face at him, but they continued up the trail. After another hour they were making good time. The trail forked, each leg angling up the hill in a different direction. Ramsay turned to Lupe for a decision. She suddenly cried out and fell to her knees. She rolled to a sitting position, clutching her right leg.
“What’s the matter?” Gavin said.
“It’s my ankle. I stepped on a rock and I heard something pop in there. It hurts.”
Gavin knelt beside her and took the leg gently in his hand. He eased the soft leather shoe off her foot. Lupe grimaced.
“
Do you think you can walk on it?” he said.
“I don’t know. It hurts really bad.”
He ran his fingers gently along the skin of her leg from knee to instep. There was no irregularity that might indicate a broken bone. In spite of the urgency of the situation, he was aware of the smooth feel of her flesh.
“Maybe it’s higher up,” she said. “Above the knee. Why don’t you feel there?”
He turned and saw she was grinning at him.
“Go ahead,” she said. “Feel my leg. It’s already getting better.”
“Damn you,” he began, but before he could say more, Lupe grasped him behind the neck and pulled his head down into a steamy kiss.
He pulled away, a little bit surprised at her strength. “Will you for Christ’s sake cut it out?” he said.
She leaned back on her elbows, looking at him. “What’s the matter? You do like women, don’t you?”
“I like women just fine,” he said slowly. “And I like sex with women. But I like it with the woman I choose and at the time I choose. Now quit crapping around and let’s go.”
Lupe did not move. Her eyes flashed angrily. “I’m not good enough? You’ve got to have a lady doctor, is that it?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but the words died when he saw what was happening to Lupe. Her mouth opened in snarl to show strong canine teeth. Hair sprouted from her face. Her body jerked in a convulsion as she tore away her leather clothes. Claws pushed out of the ends of her fingers as the hands stretched and blackened. She rose, standing on the powerful hind legs of a wolf.
Ramsay looked up at the creature that now stood a good head taller than he. All resemblance to the beautiful seductive woman was gone. What remained was a deadly, ravenous creature covered with glossy black fur. He pulled the revolver from his holster.
“Get back!” he said. “Silver bullets.”
Lupe, or what had been Lupe, gave a deep-throated bellow that echoed faintly of the woman’s derisive laugh. She came at him.
Ramsay hesitated for a near-fatal moment. He could not erase the image of the vibrant, sexy woman who had been there a moment ago. The oversized hands caught him, the claws digging through his jacket into the flesh of his back. The creature’s jaws creaked open. The teeth came down toward his throat. Her breath stank of carrion.
Ramsay pulled the trigger. The sound of the gunshot was muffled against the huge body of the werewolf. She gave a shriek of mingled pain and shock. The grip of the claws relaxed and she staggered backward.
Blood pumped in a steady stream from a hole in the belly of the wolf. The green eyes fogged over and the creature fell, raising a puff of dust from the trail. The jaws opened a last time in a long, wailing howl, then the head dropped back lifelessly.
Ramsay stood for a long minute looking down at the dead thing that had been a woman. The revolver was still in his hand. He was surprised to see it shaking.
He put the gun away and turned his gaze up the trail into the hills. Finding Holly would be a tough job now without Lupe to guide him. But he knew she was up there, and he was not going to turn back. As he concentrated on choosing one of the two trail forks before him he heard a voice high in the hills and off to the left. Howling.
He knew now which direction to take.
26
Holly Lang leaned her back against the rocky face of a cliff. The ledge where she sat was some thirty feet wide. Beyond it the trail sloped sharply down the hill through heavy brush. The silence was broken only by the chirping of birds off in the forest. Holly shivered with the chill of the morning. She hugged her knees and waited.
They were all waiting. Derak with his arms folded, his eyes on the spot where the trail came out of the brush, the rest of them sitting, standing, crouching. There was little conversation. They were waiting. Waiting for Malcolm.
Holly looked around, studying the people gathered on this rocky ledge in the Inyo Hills. There were men and women ranging in age from young to very old. Some were thin, others fat. To all appearances it was a group of normal people spending a day in the mountains. Their faces betrayed nothing beyond a mild anxiety. Nothing at all was remarkable about them. Nothing, except that they were all werewolves.
When Derak had taken her from the motel last night, Holly fully expected to die. Instead she had been brought here, given coffee and a candy bar for breakfast, and told to be still and she would not be hurt. She understood now that she was the bait that would lure Malcolm back to these people. Whatever happened, they still might kill her. She simply could not let herself think about the possibility.
She had considered running and had actually made an attempt shortly after Derak brought her there and left her alone. When no one seemed to be watching, she had plunged down the steep grade toward the trees. They let her flounder thirty yards or so into the forest, then two of the women had simply come and gotten her and brought her back. These people moved in the wilderness with a natural ease that she could never hope to match. After the aborted escape attempt she had sat quietly like the rest of them. Waiting.
At noon he came. Malcolm walked straight up the trail with no attempt at stealth. His eyes flicked over the assembled people and came to rest on Holly. She thought he looked a little tired. And somehow older.
The boy started toward her, but Derak stepped into his path.
“The woman has not been harmed,” he said.
Malcolm faced him coolly. “Why did you bring her here?”
“So you would come. I tried to make you understand that this is where you belong, but you were stubborn. Taking the woman was the only way.”
“And now you expect to keep me here?”
“I expect you to stay.”
“What if I don’t?”
Derak’s mouth compressed into a tight line. He looked over to where Holly now stood against the face of the cliff. “You are fond of the woman, I think.”
“Are you saying you would hurt her?”
“What happens to her depends on your decision.”
Holly spoke up then. “Don’t let him destroy you, Malcolm. You can be helped. I’m sure you can.”
Derak looked over at her with a bored expression and turned back to Malcolm. “You see, she doesn’t understand the realities of our life. She doesn’t know that there is no turning from the course that is set for us from birth. And she also doesn’t know what we can do to her.”
A muscle twitched in Malcolm’s cheek.
“But you know, don’t you, boy?” Derak continued. “You know, but you have been unwilling to face the truth.”
“I was told you are my father,” Malcolm said.
For the first time Derak’s poise slipped a little. “Yes, but that makes no difference here. Don’t expect any special treatment.”
The slim young man and the stocky older man faced each other. Malcolm said, “If I stay with you, will you set Holly free?”
“I’m glad you’ve decided to be sensible.”
“I want your word first.”
Derak’s face clouded. The green eyes glowed from some inner fire. “I don’t make bargains with pups.”
Malcolm pulled at his shirt collar as though it had suddenly grown too tight. “I want you to let her go.”
“You want? You… want? Do you think it matters to me what the devil you want? You like this woman, do you? Maybe you would like her even better if she were one of us. Have you thought about that?”
“No!” Malcolm cried. He took a step forward and flexed his shoulders. The muscles bulged and pulsed until the shirt stretched tight across his upper arms. He spoke to Derak through bared teeth. “It’s your fault that I’ve never known who I am… what I am. You’re my father. You should have told me things. You withheld the truth from me.”
“I was waiting until you were ready. That’s the way it is always done.”
“I was ready! You should have told me.” The seams of his shirt split with a loud tearing sound. “There are things I should know. What am I? Why am
I this way? How do I control it? What can hurt me? You never told me the third way a werewolf can die. Fire, a silver bullet, and what else, father?”
Holly and the others stood in a semicircle, mutely staring at the confrontation Malcolm’s teeth began to grow, pushing out through the gums. His nose and mouth stretched into a muzzle. The dark fur sprouted as he ripped away his clothing.
“You fool!” Derak growled. He pulled off his own clothes and laid them aside as his body began the shape change with a popping of bone and tendon. The fur that grew over the older man’s flesh was sand-colored. His face twisted into that of a wolf. It bore the scars of old battles.
When he spoke his voice had deepened into a hoarse rumble. “The third way we can die is never spoken of because it is unthinkable. It is the one unforgivable crime for our kind. We can die by fire, as you remember from Drago. We can be destroyed by a weapon of silver, as mankind learned long ago. And the third, most terrible way… one werewolf can kill another.”
The Howling Trilogy Page 59
