Gary Brandner - The Howling

"Come." Marcia held out her hand to him. The fingers were slim and white and well shaped. Roy took the hand. The effect of the touch was like the spreading warmth from the first sip of a good martini.

Hand in hand they walked along the path through the forest. The shadows were deepening, and the afternoon was cool. Occasionally Marcia would call his attention to an unusual flower or a bird watching them from a tree. Roy would respond to whatever she said, but his thoughts were far from his words. He was acutely aware of the waves of sensation that pulsed through his body from the point where their hands touched. The green of her eyes, he saw, was darker here in the forest. Deeper. The loose black hair framed her face like softly folded wings.

"Strangely enough," Marcia was saying, "this path leads through the woods and comes out on the road by the old Fenno house." She turned the green eyes full upon him. "I should really say the Beatty house now, shouldn't I?"

That has a permanent sound to it," Roy said. "We only leased the place for six months."

"Really?"

"That was the plan. It's always possible we might stay longer." He pulled himself away from the compelling eyes, forced his thoughts down another channel. "Speaking of the Fennos, how well did you know them?"

"I hardly ever saw them," Marcia said. "They were quite old, and seldom left the house."

"What happened to them, anyway?"

"I really couldn't say." Her manner chilled markedly. "I had no interest in them."

Suddenly Roy did not give a damn about the Fennos or their fate or anything at all except the woman before him. He gripped her hand and pulled her close, feeling the surprising strength in her arm as he did so.

"Marcia, I don't want to talk about the Fennos."

She looked into his eyes. She was a tall woman and could meet him almost on a level. "I know what you want, Roy. That's what I want too."

He started to speak, but she placed two fingers on his lips to silence him.

"Not yet," she said.

"Why?" he asked in a hoarse whisper. He felt like a preadolescent trying for a first kiss.

"It's not the right time."

"When?"

"You will know." Abruptly her mood changed and the contact was broken. "Come, let's go back."

They walked back along the path toward the village. Marcia danced on ahead, humming a melody Roy did not know. He followed along behind, feeling his desire for her flow powerfully through his veins. Still, he knew somehow that she was right. This was not the time. And he knew sure as death that the time would come.

They reached Marcia's shop at the edge of the forest and went in through the back door. They crossed the living quarters and went past the curtain into the front of the shop.

"It's been awfully nice," Marcia said. "We must do it again." The playful half-smile and the spark in her eyes said the things her words did not.

"Goodbye," said Roy. He started toward the door, his eyes still on Marcia.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Am I?"

"The gift for your wife."

"Yes, I almost did forget. The little shepherdess. How much did you say it was?"

"Seven dollars."

Roy pulled a five and two ones from his wallet and handed the bills to her.

"Would you like a gift box?"

"No, thanks. I'll just take it as it is."

Marcia slipped the china figurine into a plain paper sack and handed it to Roy. He took the package from her, turned quickly, and walked out. It was a gift, he realized, he would never deliver.

Back out on the street he thought, This is crazy. No woman has had an effect like that on me since I was sixteen years old.

It was the mountain air, he told himself. Plus the undeniable fact that Marcia Lura was a damned sexy woman. Even so, if sex were better for him and Karyn, it would never have happened.

But, damn it, nothing had happened. He had held a woman's hand, gone for a walk, and got an erection. Why did he feel as though he had cruelly betrayed his wife? There had not been even a mention of sex. Not aloud. Not in so many words. Nevertheless, as his house came into view, Roy had to admit that the short walk through the woods with Marcia had been an erotic experience he would not soon forget.

"I'm sorry, Oriole, I'm just not with it today," Karyn said.

This was the third day in a row she had come in to the store and sat playing gin with Oriole. Roy had so immersed himself with his technical reports he was hardly stimulating company. He had urged her to amuse herself.

"You can say that again," Oriole replied. "You want some more coffee? A piece of pie? I made some fresh pumpkin."

Karyn looked at her wrist watch. "Gosh, no, look what time it is. I've got to get home and start dinner. Roy is having problems with his work, and I don't want to add to them by making him eat late."

"I'd give you a ride," Oriole said, "but Etienne took the pickup over to Palmdale for supplies."

Karyn walked to the back window and peered out into the gathering darkness. "I'll make it all right, but I'd better get moving."

"There's a shortcut that will save you ten minutes. It comes out on the road not far from your place, if you don't mind walking through the woods."

"No, why should I? Where is this shortcut?"

"It's a nice wide path, easy to follow, starts right behind Marcia Lura's place. You know where that is?"

"Yes, I know."

"I can walk over there with you."

"Thanks, Oriole, I'll find it."

Karyn left the store and walked up the street to Marcia Lura's shop. As usual, the curtain was drawn over the front window, and there was no sign of life inside. A narrow passageway led back between the shop and the boarded-up building next door. Marcia's living quarters were dark too. What did the woman do in there, Karyn wondered. Probably sat with the lights out burning incense and chanting spells. Now where had that thought come from? Enough.

The path through the woods was, as Oriole had said, wide and easy to follow. However, the overhead branches blocked out much of the sky. The night seemed to follow just a few yards behind Karyn.

Someone called her name. Karyn stopped abruptly. A whisper more than a call, but distinct over the other rustlings of the forest. Karyn peered through the heavy brush that grew along the side of the path. At first she saw nothing, then there was a movement. A person. Man or woman, Karyn could not tell, but somebody was there, just a few yards away.

"Who's there? Who is it?"

No response.

Could it be Roy playing some kind of trick on her? No, he would never do that. Oriole Jolivet come to tell her she had forgotten something? But why would Oriole slip through the brush instead of following on the path? Why would anyone?

For an instant panic seized her, and Karyn's impulse was to run blindly for home. She fought it down. The nonsense talked by Inez Polk the other night must have unsettled her more than she realized. If she started running from shadows now, she would really be in trouble.

It was still not quite dark. Karyn parted the brush and took one cautious step off the trail. Then another. She would go just far enough to see what had attracted her eye. It would be some oddly shaped clump of brush, or a fallen branch that would look, when quickly seen, like somebody out there. The illusion, coupled with the call of an unfamiliar bird, would make it seem someone had called out to her.

Beneath the tang of evergreen there was another smell here. Something unpleasant and vaguely familiar. Something on the ground, partly hidden by the undergrowth, caught her eyes. Something red with a bit of metal attached. Karyn reached down and grasped the red thing. Her hand came away holding the red leather collar, still buckled. Still on the ground was the head of the dog.