Gary Brandner - The Howling II

"How can we do that, Chris? You don't have a gun here, do you?"

"No. And for a foreigner, it's just about impossible to get one. Let alone silver bullets. But the only things we have to fight them with is fire and silver. We can't control fire, so it will have to be a silver weapon of some kind. A knife, maybe."

"Can you get a silver knife?"

"I've got to. There's not much time. Did you check the calendar?"

"Yes. Tonight is the full moon."

"If the gypsy woman was right, and we might as well assume she was, then tonight it all comes to an end."

"One way or another," Karyn said.

"Right. One way or another."

There was an awkward pause. Chris looked at his watch. "I'd better get into town and see about the knife. While I'm gone, it might be best if you stayed in your room."

"No," Karyn said.

Chris looked up sharply. "What?"

"I'm not going to lock myself in like some frightened child. Let me go with you."

Chris shook his head. "I can move faster alone."

"All right, but I have to do something besides sit here."

He saw the look in her eye and relented. "At least don't go off anywhere by yourself."

"Maybe I'll take the cruise in the glass-bottomed boat. How would that be?"

"I'd feel a lot easier if you stayed locked in your room."

"There's nothing to worry about. I'll be with twenty other people. The boat leaves before noon and doesn't stay out more than an hour or so. That will get me back well before dark."

"I hope I'm back well before dark too," Chris said. "I'll make it as fast as I can. We'll stay together tonight and hope that the gypsy was right — that this will be the end of it."

"What about Audrey?"

"I don't have time to worry about Audrey's hurt feelings any more. She'll just have to do the best she can." He pushed away from the table and stood up. "I've got to get started. See you."

"See you, Chris. Take care of yourself."

"You too." He squeezed her shoulder and went out, quickly disappearing in the crowd of people in the lobby.

Audrey was still in bed when Chris returned to the cabana. She lay on her stomach with her head turned to one side. Her skin was pale, and there was a film of perspiration on her forehead. The flesh under her eyes was faintly purple.

"How do you feel?" Chris asked as he crossed to the closet.

"Like death. What the hell is that Mexican booze made out of, anyway?"

"Cactus."

"I believe it." Groaning, she sat up in bed and watched Chris pull on a jacket. "Where are you going?"

"Into town."

"What do we have to do in town?"

"Not 'we,' me."

"You're going to leave me here alone again?"

"That's right."

Audrey threw back the sheet and got out of bed. She was still wearing the blue bikini panties she hadn't taken off the night before. She stood before Chris swaying slightly. The color surged back into her face.

"What the hell is going on, anyway?" she demanded. "You invite me to spend a couple of weeks in Mexico with you, then you let me sit around this fucking room drinking this foul Mexican booze while you cozy it up with your old lady friend and go off on mysterious trips and — " Anger rose in her throat and choked off the words.

"Go back to bed," Chris said without looking at her. "The rest will do you good."

"Like hell I will. I'm not going to take this shit from you any more."

Chris turned to face her squarely. "Audrey, you don't have to take anything. Our return tickets to Los Angeles are in the top of my suitcase. You can use yours any time you want to."

Audrey caught her breath. She moved in quickly and wrapped her arms around him.

"I'm sorry, Chris, I didn't mean all that. I'm just hung over. I miss you, that's all. I want to be with you."

He held her for a moment. "I'm sorry, too. I didn't intend it to be this way. Things have come up that I don't have any control over."

"Can't you tell me about it?"

"Not now." He pulled away from her gently. "I've got to go."

Audrey released him. He kissed her lightly and went out.

Chris walked along in front of the hotel, where the driveway was crowded with vehicles bringing sightseers from Mazatlan. Halfway down the line he spotted the battered Plymouth of Luis Zarate. He hurried over and leaned down at the open window on the driver's side.

"Luis, can you take me into town?"

The cab driver looked up, startled. "Oh, senor, buenas dias. I was, ah, waiting for a passenger."

"I'm a passenger." Chris opened the back door and got in. "Let's go."

Luis sighed heavily and started the noisy engine. He turned the Plymouth around with some difficulty and headed back toward Mazatlan. Chris noted the stiff set of his shoulders.

"Is anything the matter, Luis?"

"Matter, senor?"

"You seem, well, uncomfortable."

"I have my worries."

"Yes, well, I guess we all do."

"Where do you want to go, senor?"

"I want someone who deals in silver."

Luis swung around in the seat and looked at him. "Silver?"

"Yes. I think you know what I need it for."

"Mazatlan is not a good place for silver. Taxco is much better."

Chris began to lose patience. "Well, I'm not in Taxco, I'm in Mazatlan. I need a knife made of silver, and I need it now. So take me to a silversmith, or let me get out and I'll find somebody who will."

Luis turned back to the road. His heavy shoulders rose and fell with another sigh. "Si, senor."

They drove on into the city of Mazatlan and along Olas Altas Boulevard, where most of the big hotels and expensive restaurants were built. Luis pulled off on a side street, made another turn, and rolled slowly along a narrow avenue of crowded tourist shops and street vendors. There were art stores with bright bullfight paintings stacked out in front, guitar stores, shops stacked to the roof with wickerware, souvenir stands with red plaster bulls and painted maracas. Along the sidewalk, men and women displayed trays of turquoise jewelry and watches, stacks of sombreros and armloads of serapes.

Chris muttered to himself as he searched the store fronts for a likely looking sign.

"You see, senor," said Luis, "in Mazatlan is not so easy to find somebody to make you something of silver."

"I can't believe that," Chris said. "Keep driving."

In the next block he spotted a narrow shop with a neatly lettered sign in the window that read: JEWELRY MADE TO ORDER.

"Stop here," he said.

Luis double parked in front of the shop and Chris got out.

"Wait for me," he said.

On the sidewalk in front of the shop two little boys rushed up to Chris offering to sell him gum or plastic flowers. An old woman huddled under blankets shuffled along, the pavement carrying a basket of withered fruit. She held out a blackened banana toward Chris. He brushed past the old woman and the boys and entered the jewelry store.

A salesman dressed in a neat dark suit hurried forward to greet him. "Good morning, sir. May I help you?"

"Possibly." Chris glanced down at the display case. It contained pieces of jewelry that looked to be of good quality. "Do you do work in silver?"

"Yes, sir. We have a fine craftsman here who will make up any piece to your order. Is it for a gentleman or a lady?"

"I'm not looking for jewelry," Chris said.

"Oh?"

"What I want is a knife. A knife with a blade of silver."

The man's eyes clouded. The smile gradually faded away. "A knife," he repeated flatly.

"That's right. I don't care what kind of a handle it has, but I want the blade to be silver, and I want it about six inches long."

"That is impossible."

"Why? If your man is as good as you say working with jewelry, surely he can make a knife blade and fit it to a handle."

"I am sorry, he does not do that kind of work."