And then of course there was Ambras syndrome, or hypertrichosis — the “werewolf syndrome”—that caused abnormal hair growth over the entire body. The bearded ladies of the freak shows of elder days were frequently sufferers of this affliction.
Hyperpigmentation, hyperkeratosis, hypertrichosis — all these could potentially be behind, scientifically, what he had seen in the garret room of the Blakeney residence. But they could not explain the rapid onset with which all three manifested themselves — nor could they explain how, presumably, they all disappeared with the same alacrity once the moon went down. And, of course, there was no record in the online medical and scientific journals that Logan consulted of any of these conditions being brought on by moonlight.
Was it possible that what Zephraim — and certain others in his clan, to a lesser degree — was suffering from was some genetic abnormality, or perhaps some syndrome, as yet unknown to science? Sudden hair growth, increased physical ability, long nails, darkened skin (which only made the additional hair appear that much more dramatic) — these all sounded like the historical werewolf sightings, recounted over the centuries, that he’d read by the dozens, although — as usual with hysterical observations — exaggerated by fear and ignorance. There was one difference, however — in Zephraim’s case, while there might be certain physical changes… there was no bloodlust, no furious spasms of violence.
At least, so the Blakeneys had told him. And the fear they’d exhibited; the way they had locked Zephraim up for his own protection — and, most of all, the feelings he had sensed from Zephraim after the change — convinced Logan they were telling the truth.
Then there was something else — something Logan found himself almost unwilling to confront. And that was Chase Feverbridge. Feverbridge had learned about Zephraim, and about the unique “moon-sickness” that the Blakeney clan suffered from. He’d taken DNA and blood samples. But none of this had come up in his demonstration to Logan, that night in the secret lab behind the fire station. That demonstration had focused on how moonlight — pure moonlight, filtered through the dust of the moon’s atmosphere but unhindered by the pollution that now surrounded the earth — could cause behavioral modifications. Feverbridge’s words came back to him: Was it possible this unusual quality of light, when viewed by diurnal creatures on earth, could affect the brain sufficiently to cause changes in behavior? And could the full moon alone be enough to achieve that? That was the beginnings of a working hypothesis: that the effect of this special, polarized moonlight, entering the brain, could cause an unusual response: fear, excitability, aggression.
Feverbridge had demonstrated — and Logan had seen — the results for himself. But those results, though dramatic, had all been behavioral — as posited in the first article he’d read on Jessup’s computer. What he’d just witnessed happen to Zephraim had been not only behavioral, but morphological. Albeit temporarily, albeit only to a relatively small degree, Zephraim had physically changed.
Yet this had not made up any part of the experiment Logan had seen in the secret lab, although it had perhaps been hinted at in the second, final article he’d read on Jessup’s computer, published eight or nine months earlier. There were any number of possible reasons for this omission. Perhaps Feverbridge had been unable to make any viable use of Zephraim’s DNA. He had hoped to — hence the optimistic article — but ultimately it had proven impossible. It was quite possible the Blakeneys manifested a genetic trait that was simply too unusual or exotic to be manipulated in a laboratory… and so Feverbridge had fallen back to his original research.
Another possibility was that he had not mentioned the Blakeneys to Logan because he’d promised to keep their secret. After all, Logan had made the same sort of promise — the old scientist would not be likely to betray a confidence like that.
And yet, there was one other scenario running through the back of Logan’s mind — one that he did not wish to pursue. And it had to do with the dog run he’d seen while visiting Laura Feverbridge.
With a sigh, he closed the lid of his laptop. Lack of sleep made him feel almost stuporous — and it was now past three in the morning. Whatever the explanation might be, in Zephraim Blakeney, Logan had found someone consummately worthy of further study: an enigmalogist’s dream. And not just for the rare enigmalogist like himself. There were roughly forty thousand identified diseases currently in the world. It was, perversely perhaps, the dream of every medical practitioner, from clinician to biophysicist, to discover yet another. Perhaps he had done that. But that study, whatever form it might take, if any, would have to wait. Because there were other, darker forces at work: forces that had to be tackled first. Whatever Zephraim actually was — whether or not he was the werewolf of legend — there was something far more murderous on the loose. The moon was still full — and that meant he had a ticking clock.
Leaning back in his chair, he closed his eyes, mentally trying to sort out all the pieces to this strange puzzle. The speculation of the residents of Pike Hollow. The concerns of his friend Jessup — first mere uncertainty; later, apparently, suspicion. The transformation of Zephraim, and the clan’s “moon-sickness”—something he’d witnessed with his own eyes. The final articles that Dr. Feverbridge had written, and the experiment he’d demonstrated to Logan in the secret lab. Somewhere, hidden among all these strands, was the thread that would lead to the answer….
He was roused by a light rap on his door. He moved in his chair, blinked in surprise at the bright sunlight flooding his cabin. Glancing at his watch, he saw with disbelief that it was past one p.m. He had fallen asleep and slept straight through the morning, waking only as his lunch was being left outside his front door.
His limbs ached from hours spent sleeping in a chair, but he could not wait. He ran into the bathroom, washed his face and hands, poured cold water over his head to sharpen his senses. Grabbing a comb, he ran it through his hair. And then, picking up his cell phone, car keys — and a flashlight — he ran out the front door and down the dirt path that led to the lot where his rented Jeep was parked.
34
It was nearly half past three when Logan pulled into the driveway of the converted fire station. He paused at the mouth of the driveway to make a brief call, then continued down to the parking area. As he got out of the Jeep, he saw Laura Feverbridge come out of the residence building and walk in the direction of the lab. When she saw him, she stopped and smiled.
“Jeremy,” she said. “What a nice surprise.”
“Nice to see you as well,” he said. “I wish it was under better circumstances.”
When he said this, her smile faded. “Yes. I heard about Jessup. What a terrible thing. I met him twice — he seemed like such a nice man.” She nodded ahead. “Come on, we can talk in the lab.”
As they walked, Logan realized that something was different. Then he realized what it was: there was no barking of dogs, no eager frisking about their heels. He glanced in the direction of the dog run, saw that it was empty.
“Where are Toshi and Mischa?” he asked.
Laura’s look grew still more troubled. “They ran away.”
“What? Both of them?”
“As far as I can tell. You remember how agitated they were becoming — I had to lock them in the dog run at night. Then, two mornings ago, I let them out as usual, went to get their breakfasts… and when I returned they were gone. I spent half the morning combing the surrounding woods, calling and whistling. Nothing.”