Gary Brandner - The Howling II

"Didn't she question you when you told her that?" he demanded.

"I–I gave her something of yours so she'd believe the message came from you."

"What did you give her?"

"That little lump of silver you always carried around. The one that looked like a bullet."

Chris's hand went to his pocket. Things had happened so fast the last few days, he hadn't even noticed the bullet was missing. He whirled and started toward the door. He yanked it open, then turned back.

"I'm going out now, Audrey. I don't know how long I'll be gone, but when I come back I don't want to see you here." He went out and slammed the door without waiting for a reply.

The taxi he had come in was gone, but there was another just turning around in front of the hotel and heading back toward Mazatlan. Chris ran toward the car.

"Taxi! Hey, taxi!"

The driver, with a full load of passengers, ignored him. Chris stood in the roadway cursing after the departing cab.

"Senor?"

The voice close behind him made Chris start. He turned to see Luis Zarate nervously fingering the zipper of his jacket.

"Luis!"

"I came looking for you, senor. I should not have left you today in the city. I am very ashamed."

"Never mind that," Chris said, "I need you now. They've tricked Karyn into going to the gypsy's cabin. I've got to go after her."

A stricken look came over Luis.

"What's the matter?"

"The gypsy, senor. Philina. Ella esta muerte."

"She's dead?"

"Si, senor." With a shake of his head, Luis returned to English. "The word was spread today among the gypsies and the people of the streets. Philina is dead, and anyone who helps the gringos will follow her. They will know the vengeance of lobombre."

"That's why the salesman in the jewelry store acted so funny this morning."

Luis nodded.

"And that's why you left me there on the street."

"Yes, but now I am ashamed. My poor taxi is at your service."

"Then let's go. Take me to your cousin's place, the one with the burros."

"Mucho gusto, senor, mucho gusto!"

They roared out of the hotel compound in the old Plymouth and up the highway toward Mazatlan. Luis swerved expertly onto the narrow rutted road leading into the foothills. The car bounced and rattled and seemed at times about to fly to pieces, but Luis never let up on the accelerator. When they reached the shack of Guillermo the burro keeper Chris jumped out and hit the ground running. Luis followed close behind him.

Chris hammered on the door, but received no response from within.

"Where could he be?" Chris demanded.

Luis stepped forward. "Permit me, senor." He put his mouth close to the door, and in a voice of thunder shouted, "Guillermo! Nombre de Dios, abre la porta!"

After a moment there was the sound of something heavy scraping across the floor inside. The door opened a crack, and Guillermo's one good eye peered out.

"What do you want?"

"Has the woman been here?" Chris said. "The woman who came with me last time?"

"She was here."

"When?" Chris's question snapped like a whip.

"Two, three hours ago."

"What did she say to you?"

"She said nothing. I did not open the door."

"Why, for God's sake? What's the matter with you?"

The eye squinted out at Chris from the crack in the door. "There is evil and death in the mountains. It is a time for a poor man like me to stay behind doors."

"Well, where did she go?"

"She took one of my burros and started up the trail."

"Give me a burro," Chris said. "Quickly. I have to go after her."

"I do not think you can help her now."

"I don't give a damn what you think. What about that burro?"

"Go to the back and take one yourself, senor. It will be ten dollars for yours and the lady's."

Chris started to say something, changed his mind. He pulled a bill from his wallet, tossed it at the crack in the door, and started around the shack.

In the pen he found a sturdy-looking burro and led him around to the front. Luis Zarate was standing there by the Plymouth.

"I would go with you, senor," said Luis, "but I have both a wife and a mother who depend on me. And the truth is that I am not a very brave man."

"That's all right, Luis. From here on it's my fight. What do I owe you for the ride?"

"No charge, senor."

"Thanks." Chris climbed on the burro's back and urged the animal up the trail.

"Buena suerte, senor," Luis called after Mm. "Vaya con Dios."

He would need more than luck this time, Chris thought as the burro jogged toward the mountains. Maybe even the company of God would not be enough. He rode upward into the gathering darkness.

THE PAIN CAME BACK first. Pain in her throat. In the instant before she regained consciousness, Karyn was a little girl again. She was lying on a high, white bed in the hospital, and the doctor had just taken her tonsils out. In a moment she would open her eyes and her mother would be there. And Daddy. And they would let her eat all the ice cream she wanted, and before long the pain would go away.

Karyn tried to reach up with a hand and touch her throat where it hurt. But the hand would not move. Her lungs heaved, pulling in air, but it did not have the sharp, clean smell of the hospital. The roughness against her back was no bed.

She forced her eyes open. No loving faces looked down on her. It took only a moment for her to realize where she was. In the gypsy's cabin. The light from the fire pit cast grotesque shadows throughout the room. Karyn was sitting in the chair with no back. Her ankles were tied to the legs of the chair, her wrists tightly bound behind her. The roughness against her back was the log wall of the cabin.

She turned her head. It hurt her throat when she moved. Beside her was the pile of old rags where Philina the gypsy had sat talking to her and Chris such a little while ago. Beyond the rags she could see another torn bundle. Only the clawed hand, lying limp and palm up, told her that it had once been human.

Karyn looked away quickly. Through the open doorway the world outside was in deepening twilight. Someone stepped between her and the doorway. A tall, slim silhouette with flowing black hair that was shot through with silver.

"Marcia!" Karyn's voice was a rasping whisper.

"I see you remember me. I'm glad. You will have much time for remembering in the hours before dawn."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm going to hurt you, Karyn. I'm going to hurt you very badly."

Karyn squinted in the darkness, trying to get a better look at the woman. "Why? Why are you doing this? Why are you persecuting me? You took my husband from me back in Drago. What more do you want?" She broke off as the effort of talking hurt her throat too much.

Marcia took a step toward her. The fire pit lay between them. The tall woman knelt so the light of the fire shone full on her face. "You want to know why, do you? Then look!"

She raised a hand to her forehead and ran long fingers through the white streak in her midnight hair. "This is why. I have this mark to remind me of the night you put the gun inches from my head and fired. I will never forget the agony of that moment and the long months that followed. In those months, Karyn, I thought of you above all else. I have lived for just one thing — to give you some measure of the pain I felt. And finally to see you die."

"I had to shoot that night," Karyn whispered. "I saw only a wolf. I couldn't know it was you."

"You lie!" the other woman spat. "Just before you pulled the trigger I heard you speak my name. Oh, yes, you knew."

It was true, Karyn realized. In that long-ago night when she fired the silver bullet into the head of the sleek black wolf, she had known full well it was the woman Marcia. Lura. What a tragic shame that the creature had not died.