by Jewel Dartt
Elizabeth nodded. "I'm afraid so. You see, Cassandra Dupree's family was one of only a few families that opposed preying on human beings when the killing lust came over them. Cassandra mentions in the journal that these families felt it took away what little humanity they did possess, and reduced them…to nothing but bloodthirsty beasts."
"I assume this led to problems?"
"You assume right. There were apparently a lot of hard feelings over these radically different views in the pack."
Hadden put down his cup and got to his feet. "This is all very fascinating, but there has to be a way to reverse the process. Maybe if I ran some tests—took some X-rays…"
Elizabeth frowned. "This is not a medical problem, Hadden. It is part of who she is, and there's nothing in your little bag of tricks that can change that."
Hadden's jaw hardened. "That may be true, but dammit, I'm not going to give up on Miranda without a fight." He spun around and headed for the door.
"Where are you going?" she asked, her voice rising in alarm.
"To town," he said grimly. "I know a man who might be able to shed some light on this particular subject." He turned back, his hand on the doorknob. "Watch over Miranda here until I return. Don't let anyone in here but me."
Elizabeth looked confused. "But why?"
"Miranda told me she saw another werewolf while she was out in the woods. He tried to get her to kill the Wilson boy."
"Oh, my God, but who?" Elizabeth asked, drawing back in horror.
"I don't know, but I intend to find out."
Chapter 4
* * *
Hadden pounded on the rectory door. He paused for a moment, listening for some sounds of movement inside. Nothing but silence. Steven could sleep through anything, he thought, so he resumed his pounding. This time he put his weight behind it.
Steven jerked the door open so abruptly he caught Hadden in mid-knock. He ran his hand through his sleep ruffled hair and stared at his friend with bleary eyes. "For the love of God, Hadden. Do you know what time it is?"
Hadden glanced at his watch. "Yeah…it's five o' clock."
"Very funny." Steven said dryly. "Forgive me if I don't laugh. I don't want to know the time, you idiot." He let out an exasperated sigh. "Never mind. Just tell me what you're doing on my front stoop at this hour of the morning?"
"It's rather complicated, Steven." Hadden's gaze wandered to the other neat, two-story brick houses on the block, and then he gave his friend a look that spoke volumes. "I don't think your front step is the place to talk. I'd just soon not have your neighbors overhearing what I have to say."
"Okay…come in," Steven said, stepping back so Hadden could enter the shadowy foyer. "But this better be good, Hadden."
Hadden didn't reply as he brushed by Steven and headed for the study at the end of the short hall.
By the time Steven caught up with him, Hadden was busy studying the book-lined walls. "Hadden, will you please stop and tell me what in blazes is going on?"
Hadden found the book he was looking for and pulled it off the shelf. He riffled through it impatiently and then slammed it down on the desk. "Nothing is going on. Dammit, I thought you were an expert on the supernatural. Don't you have anything on werewolves in this weird collection of yours?"
Steven looked somewhat dazed. "You woke me up at the crack of dawn to chew me out about my collection of paranormal books? Have you lost your mind? When did you develop an interest in werewolves? I thought you didn't believe any of this supernatural stuff. I remember distinctly hearing you call it a lot of hogwash."
Hadden's features twisted painfully, despair flooding through him like a dark tidal wave. "No, I haven't lost my mind, and I don't—didn't believe in all that supernatural crap, but circumstances have made me change my mind. If I hadn't seen it for myself…" His voice trailed off.
Steven leaned over the desk and sniffed the air. "Have you been drinking? Is that what this is all about? You know this isn't the way to get over Miranda."
Hadden glared at him. "Of course not. Do I look drunk to you?"
Steven slumped down into his chair with a heavy sigh. "Look, I'm not sure what is going on with you. But if you're trying to tell me you saw a werewolf…" He cleared his throat and looked away. "Well, you have to remember that you've been drinking a lot lately and with all the turmoil in your life right now, it's to be expected that you might imagine things." He tried to smile. "I'm surprised you haven't been seeing pink elephants dancing out on your lawn, if the other night is any indication of what you've been up to for the past couple of days."
Hadden frowned. "Steven, listen to me. I haven't had a drink since that night you found me in the bar. I'm stone sober, man."
Steven stood up and leaned over the massive desk.
"Tell me about it, Hadden. Exactly what did you see, and what does it have to do with Miranda?"
Hadden paced back and forth in front of the desk. "You won't believe me. Hell, I can't believe it myself."
"Let me be the judge of what I believe or don't believe," Steven said calmly. "I'll try to help if I can."
Hadden hesitated, not sure if he should trust anyone with what he knew. But Steven was his best friend, and he was an expert on the supernatural. To Hadden, it had always seemed a strange hobby for a minister to have, but now he was glad his friend was such a fanatic for anything paranormal.
But still…could he trust him not to tell anyone else? If it ever got out…He shuddered at the thought. For the sake of Miranda's safety, he had to be careful.
"I'm a minister, not to mention your best friend," Steven said as if he knew what Hadden was thinking. "I won't betray a confidence. You know that." There was a hint of reproach in his friend's voice that made Hadden feel ashamed for doubting him. After all, they had been friends since boyhood. If he couldn't trust Steven Gant, then who the hell could he trust?
"It's Miranda," he said at last.
"Miranda?" Steven took off his glasses, a confused expression on his face. "You saw a werewolf at Miranda's?"
Hadden shook his head impatiently. "Oh God, this is harder than I thought it would be." He paced back and forth for a few more seconds, trying to think how best to put what he had to say. But nothing came to mind.
Hell, there was no way to sugar coat it…he would have to tell him just straight out. He halted in mid-stride and gazed intently at Steven. "You'd better sit back down and listen carefully, my friend, for I'm only going to tell you this once…and only because I'm way over my head in this situation…and I need your help."
Steven listened quietly as Hadden told him what little he knew, and about the transformation he'd witnessed for himself back at Miranda's. Eventually, he let out a sigh and leaned back in his chair. He picked up a pencil and rolled it back and forth between his fingers. "I really find all of this hard to swallow. If I didn't know you better, I'd swear you were making fun of me."
Hadden shot his friend an incredulous look. "Do you think I would make up such an unbelievable story? For Christ's sake, man, I love Miranda. I wouldn't do anything that could hurt her, no matter what she did to me."
"No…I don't suppose you would," Steven said with a thoughtful expression. "I can only assume you're telling me the truth about what you think you saw."
Hadden slammed his hands down on the desk. "I'm telling you what I did see, and I need your help."
"It's really an incredible story, I must admit." Steven breathed. "And I almost believe you. I always suspected there had to be some truths to the old legends, but I never dreamed it could be possible in this day and time. The possibilities are staggering. Imagine another culture living right under our very noses and nobody knows about it."
Steven leaned forward excitedly. "Did you know that since the very beginning of Man's history there have been stories of shape shifters? In Norman France they were called loup-garou. In Italy, lupo-manaro. Even in our time in Banyang, they still believe in shape shifters. Their name for them is babu, a name they use to cover a varie
ty of shape shifters from jaguars to tigers. Even our own American Indians believed in shifters. Can you imagine what we could learn from a race that has this ability? The possibilities are staggering to the imagination."
"You said that already," Hadden said dryly. "I know this kind of stuff fascinates you, Steven," he added, a thread of anger running through his voice. "And I appreciate the history lesson in the supernatural. But dammit, we're not just talking about a complete stranger here. We're talking about the woman I love. I don't give a damn about their culture or their myths. I just want to help Miranda beat this damn curse so we can go on with our lives."
Steven had the grace to look sheepish. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. It's just so amazing, I forgot the suffering Miranda and you must be going through over this, if it's true. And I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt," he added, when he saw the frown on his friend's face. "Okay, tell me. How can I help?"
A shadow crossed Hadden's face. "It's true, old friend. Although I wish it weren't. Now, to get down to business; if you could, find out everything you can about how to reverse the process."
Steven rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I do remember reading something in one of my books about a magic ritual in one of my books that could reverse the shape shifting curse. The answer could be there."
Hadden nodded, feeling hope for the first time since he'd seen Miranda go through her transformation. "I don't care what we have to do as long as it works."
Steven got to his feet. "You know I'll do what I can to help. I care about Miranda too."
"I know you do. As soon as you know something, call me at Miranda's. I'm going to be staying there until this is all over."
Steven shot him a concerned look. "Are you sure that's wise? You said yourself that she's afraid she will hurt you when the change comes upon her."
"I'll take my chances," Hadden said, "I'm not going to leave her to go through this alone, especially with this male werewolf sniffing around out there somewhere."
"Do you suppose he could be what Jensen saw the other night?"
"I think so," Hadden said, surging to his feet and heading toward the door. "I'm going to go and talk to the sheriff after I go by the clinic. See if I can feel him out about any more wolf sightings. If I can get a lead on this guy maybe I can find out what he wants."
"Good luck, my friend," Steven whispered as Hadden left the study. A tremor shook his body. He felt strange as a dark premonition came over him. He could feel it…feel the edge of darkness pushing at the boundaries of light…good against evil. An age-old battle that had been fought endlessly since the dawn of mankind.
And now it was to be fought again, right outside a small, peaceful, mountain town, by a country doctor who knew next to nothing of the different forces that existed in the universe.
He felt a twist of terror in the deepest part of his soul, for he knew with a chilling certainty that Evil had arrived in Silver Valley, and it was here to stay.
* * *
On the way to his office, Hadden glanced over at the green in the middle of Main Street. The fountain situated in the center of the spacious green flowed freely in the summer, but now it lay dormant, covered in a spray of withered leaves.
He felt a sharp sense of loss as he remembered the last time he and Miranda were there—last July Fourth, when they and all of their friends and neighbors had picnicked under the stars and watched the town's fireworks display. It had been a tradition in the valley as far back as he could remember. A tradition Miranda had delighted in.
That was the night he asked her to marry him. God, it seemed like a hundred years ago, he thought, shaking off the memory. He wished it were as easy to shake off the pain the memory caused him.
Hadden let out a curse as the traffic light in front of him turned to red, forcing him to slam on his brakes.
He returned his full attention to the two-lane road, and when the light flashed to green, he turned right toward the clinic.
Hadden was surprised to see Sheriff Banks waiting for him when he drove into the parking lot. It was unusual to say the least, especially since he was alone. Martha, the sheriff's wife, usually had to drag the man in for his annual check up.
He parked in the spot that had his name on it, and slid out from under the steering wheel, automatically reaching in for his medical bag before he remembered he had left it at Miranda's.
He was more than a little apprehensive about the sheriff's appearance here, and couldn't help but wonder if it was possible someone had spotted Miranda last night and reported it to the sheriff.
The thought sent a trickle of ice down his spine as he imagined frightened farmers and textile workers combing the woods with guns.
Good God, somehow he had to keep her out of sight during the change…especially since he wasn't sure if the stories about werewolves being invulnerable to everything but silver bullets were true or not. He'd have to ask Miranda.
Surely her birth mother had mentioned it in her diary, or at least he hoped she had. He strolled to the clinic doors, where the sheriff, smoking a cigar, leaned casually against the bricks.
"Those are bad for your health, Sheriff," Hadden said, giving him a look of disapproval.
Sheriff Banks pushed away from the building and threw the cigar down. He ground it out with the toe of his badly scuffed boot. "Don't I know it. But it's a hard habit to break. Don't tell Martha you saw me smoking, or I won't hear the end of it for a week."
"Smart woman," Hadden observed.
"Yeah…she tries to keep me on the straight and narrow ever since that heart attack scare last year."
"You should listen to her, she knows what's she talking about. And besides, you make a lousy patient."
The sheriff shifted uneasily. "I just don't take kindly to lying abed all day when I need to be out here working—earning my pay. That's why I'm here today. I need your professional opinion about a case I'm investigating."
Hadden nodded and held open the glass door. "Come on, you can fill me in on what's happening in the world of crime."
"Good morning, Dr. McNeal," Alice, his receptionist called out brightly. She handed him a pile of notes. "These are all messages from your mother. She wants you to call her immediately."
Hadden shifted through the papers. "Damn, I was going to call her yesterday and I forgot."
"Well you better not forget today, or tomorrow you'll find her camped out in your office," Alice said. "Her words, not mine," she added with a wry smile.
Christ, that was all he needed right now. He made a mental note to call her as soon as he squared things away here. The last thing he needed right now was his inquisitive mother snooping around.
He loved her dearly, but she could smell a mystery a mile off and she wouldn't give up until she knew whatever there was to know. So far he'd been lucky that she hadn't been pestering him with questions about Miranda and the wedding.
But then he had to give her credit where credit was due. She seemed to know it was a very painful subject for him so she'd avoided talking about it so far, but that wouldn't last forever. Still, she worried about him, and he did owe her a phone call.
But that was for later. Now he had to deal with Sheriff Banks and about a million other things before he could get back to Miranda. Tension twisted his stomach into knots as he thought about the coming night. But, somehow, he forced it back and sat down on the edge of his desk, motioning for the sheriff to take a chair.
"Okay, Sheriff, what can I do for you?"
Sheriff Banks cleared his throat. "Last night the Wilson kid was found dead out by his barn."
Hadden's chest tightened painfully as he recalled what Miranda had said earlier about the Wilson boy. Why had she lied? Or had she lied? It was possible that the other werewolf had killed the boy. God, he didn't know what to believe anymore, or what to think.
He felt as if somebody had pulled the plug on reality as he knew it, and let everything in his safe little world go all to hell. And there was no way back.
One step at a time, Hadden. Take it one step at a time.
He took a deep breath to clear his head, pushing back the turmoil of his thoughts. "How did it happen, Norman?"
"I'm no expert, but it looked to me like he'd been mangled by a wild animal…possibly a wolf. Of course, that's just my opinion. I can't be sure until I get the results back from the coroner's office."
"Why a wolf and not a pack of wild dogs?" Hadden asked, making sure to keep his voice neutral, his expression impassive.
Sheriff Banks pushed his hat back with the tip of his finger. "It ties in with what Jensen seen the other night, and there have been two other reports since then from people seeing a wolf on their property." He shot Hadden a wry smile. "Of course, one of those reports came from a man who claimed he saw it running away on two legs. He kept trying to tell me it was a werewolf."
Hadden forced out a laugh. "A werewolf? Sounds to me like somebody had a little too much to drink."
Sheriff Banks shook his head. "Yeah, I think so too. Some people see all kinds of crazy things when they're three sheets to the wind, but I still have to check it out just the same."
"What does Connor say about all of this?"
"Well, that's the trouble with this whole situation. Connor went on a fishing trip with his sons. He won't be back for another three weeks. That's where you come in, Doc."
Hadden shuffled some papers on his desk and shook his head. "I'm not a coroner, Norman. I don't know that I can be much help."
"I don't need much help, just a professional opinion to confirm what I suspect. After all, you are a doctor. You've seen a lot of injuries in your time. And I'm going to have to wait for at least two to three weeks to get an autopsy report after we ship the body to Asheville. Since this is not a homicide it's the lowest item on the totem pole. You know how slow they are down there."
"Yeah, I know," Hadden said. He hesitated for a moment before he asked, "what do you plan to do if you're right about it being a wolf attack?"
The sheriff grimaced. "Nothing I can do, but get together a few men I trust and go in after it. I don't much like the idea, cause me and hunting never did get along too well. But I can't let a dangerous animal roam freely in our woods, killing people at its leisure." He lumbered to his feet. "So can I count on you, Doc?"
