Blood pumped in a steady stream from a hole in the belly of the wolf. The green eyes fogged over and the creature fell, raising a puff of dust from the trail. The jaws opened a last time in a long, wailing howl, then the head dropped back lifelessly.
Ramsay stood for a long minute looking down at the dead thing that had been a woman. The revolver was still in his hand. He was surprised to see it shaking.
He put the gun away and turned his gaze up the trail into the hills. Finding Holly would be a tough job now without Lupe to guide him. But he knew she was up there, and he was not going to turn back. As he concentrated on choosing one of the two trail forks before him he heard a voice high in the hills and off to the left. Howling.
He knew now which direction to take.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
Holly Lang leaned her back against the rocky face of a cliff. The ledge where she sat was some thirty feet wide. Beyond it the trail sloped sharply down the hill through heavy brush. The silence was broken only by the chirping of birds off in the forest. Holly shivered with the chill of the morning. She hugged her knees and waited.
They were all waiting. Derak with his arms folded, his eyes on the spot where the trail came out of the brush, the rest of them sitting, standing, crouching. There was little conversation. They were waiting. Waiting for Malcolm.
Holly looked around, studying the people gathered on this rocky ledge in the Inyo Hills. There were men and women ranging in age from young to very old. Some were thin, others fat. To all appearances it was a group of normal people spending a day in the mountains. Their faces betrayed nothing beyond a mild anxiety. Nothing at all was remarkable about them. Nothing, except that they were all werewolves.
When Derak had taken her from the motel last night, Holly fully expected to die. Instead she had been brought here, given coffee and a candy bar for breakfast, and told to be still and she would not be hurt. She understood now that she was the bait that would lure Malcolm back to these people. Whatever happened, they still might kill her. She simply could not let herself think about the possibility.
She had considered running and had actually made an attempt shortly after Derak brought her there and left her alone. When no one seemed to be watching, she had plunged down the steep grade toward the trees. They let her flounder thirty yards or so into the forest, then two of the women had simply come and gotten her and brought her back. These people moved in the wilderness with a natural ease that she could never hope to match. After the aborted escape attempt she had sat quietly like the rest of them. Waiting.
At noon he came. Malcolm walked straight up the trail with no attempt at stealth. His eyes flicked over the assembled people and came to rest on Holly. She thought he looked a little tired. And somehow older.
The boy started toward her, but Derak stepped into his path.
"The woman has not been harmed," he said.
Malcolm faced him coolly. "Why did you bring her here?"
"So you would come. I tried to make you understand that this is where you belong, but you were stubborn. Taking the woman was the only way."
"And now you expect to keep me here?"
"I expect you to stay."
"What if I don't?"
Derak's mouth compressed into a tight line. He looked over to where Holly now stood against the face of the cliff. "You are fond of the woman, I think."
"Are you saying you would hurt her?"
"What happens to her depends on your decision."
Holly spoke up then. "Don't let him destroy you, Malcolm. You can be helped. I'm sure you can."
Derak looked over at her with a bored expression and turned back to Malcolm. "You see, she doesn't understand the realities of our life. She doesn't know that there is no turning from the course that is set for us from birth. And she also doesn't know what we can do to her."
A muscle twitched in Malcolm's cheek.
"But you know, don't you, boy?" Derak continued. "You know, but you have been unwilling to face the truth."
"I was told you are my father," Malcolm said.
For the first time Derak's poise slipped a little. "Yes, but that makes no difference here. Don't expect any special treatment."
The slim young man and the stocky older man faced each other. Malcolm said, "If I stay with you, will you set Holly free?"
"I'm glad you've decided to be sensible."
"I want your word first."
Derak's face clouded. The green eyes glowed from some inner fire. "I don't make bargains with pups."
Malcolm pulled at his shirt collar as though it had suddenly grown too tight. "I want you to let her go."
"You want? You... want? Do you think it matters to me what the devil you want? You like this woman, do you? Maybe you would like her even better if she were one of us. Have you thought about that?"
"No!" Malcolm cried. He took a step forward and flexed his shoulders. The muscles bulged and pulsed until the shirt stretched tight across his upper arms. He spoke to Derak through bared teeth. "It's your fault that I've never known who I am... what I am. You're my father. You should have told me things. You withheld the truth from me."
"I was waiting until you were ready. That's the way it is always done."
"I was ready! You should have told me." The seams of his shirt split with a loud tearing sound. "There are things I should know. What am I? Why am I this way? How do I control it? What can hurt me? You never told me the third way a werewolf can die. Fire, a silver bullet, and what else, father?"
Holly and the others stood in a semicircle, mutely staring at the confrontation Malcolm's teeth began to grow, pushing out through the gums. His nose and mouth stretched into a muzzle. The dark fur sprouted as he ripped away his clothing.
"You fool!" Derak growled. He pulled off his own clothes and laid them aside as his body began the shape change with a popping of bone and tendon. The fur that grew over the older man's flesh was sand-colored. His face twisted into that of a wolf. It bore the scars of old battles.
When he spoke his voice had deepened into a hoarse rumble. "The third way we can die is never spoken of because it is unthinkable. It is the one unforgivable crime for our kind. We can die by fire, as you remember from Drago. We can be destroyed by a weapon of silver, as mankind learned long ago. And the third, most terrible way... one werewolf can kill another."
There was a soft moaning sound from the others. They shrank back a step from the father and son. Holly's throat was dry as she watched the two figures evolve from men into huge and terrible beasts.
It was the first time Malcolm had completed the metamorphosis. As a wolf he was taller by a head than his father, but Derak was more muscular, more sure of his body. They circled each other warily.
The dark wolf attacked first. He lunged wildly at Derak and was batted aside by a clawed hand. He lunged again, and again Derak evaded him, dealing a painful blow as he did so. The son bellowed in anger and frustration. The father was watchful, conserving his strength.
For an hour the battle continued much in the way it had begun. Malcolm, younger and quicker, struck time after time, but Derak's experience and cunning made him miss repeatedly. Before long the blows struck by the older wolf were taking their toll. Malcolm's lunges became more clumsy, his own wounds deeper.
Holly bit into her knuckle as she watched. She had once seen two chimpanzees fight to the death during an experiment on the animals with PCP. It had been agony to watch, but this was more terrible by far. Not only was it beast against beast; it was father against son. And the son was losing.