Lone Star 04 (21 page)

Ki cast that thought aside. Unless he'd read the trail wrong, Zascha wasn't even thinking about him anymore. Something had put the fear of God into the man and he was running for his life. The earlier sign had made that clear—the wolf tracks, and those others, the enormous prints of the...
creature
who ran with those beasts...

When the idea came to him, he carried it out at once, without a second thought. Leaving the dark trees, he slipped quietly down into the creek. Almost immediately, he felt a great sense of relief, as if some terrible burden had been lifted off his shoulders. He had regained some control over his surroundings. The sound of shallow water masked his movements, and he could see a fair distance in every direction. Whatever came at him, he would at least have a few seconds' warning.

The water was knee-deep at most, and his bare feet found solid footing on the gravelly bottom. Ki moved quietly down the stream, stopping every few yards to listen and test the air. He had been in the creek only moments before he smelled it. When it struck his senses, he froze, every muscle and tendon taut as a wire.

Animal!
Just a slight hint on the wind, but it was enough, and unmistakable. Wild, musty, rank... a raw, sickly sweet odor that was there, and then suddenly gone. Ki smelled his own sweat, and prayed that whatever was out there had missed the scent. It was close,
too
close...

A high, ragged shriek pierced the night, hung on the air a long moment, then cut off abruptly. Ki crouched in the water and jerked the sai from his belt. Another sound instantly covered the first. The low, throaty growl of a wolf. No—more than one! Then—six quick shots as someone emptied a revolver. A horse screamed in pain and a man shouted in fear. Hooves thundered off, crashing wildly through the brush. And after that—nothing.

Ki didn't move. His eyes swept the darkness. His sensitive ears searched for sound in the sudden, awful silence. Once he thought he heard something snuffling on the bank over his head. Sweat coursed down his brow and stung his eyes. He could almost see the great wolf crouching there, ready to spring.

It seemed like forever before his senses allowed him to move. He knew he couldn't stand there all night like a statue, but it seemed like a fair idea. Moving one foot carefully before the other, he walked a good twenty yards upstream, then stepped onto the shore. He listened another long moment, then silently made his way up the bank.

He could smell it before he even reached the top, and knew what it was. The terrible odor of death. The coppery smell of blood. The choking smell of bowels loosed in fear...

He found the horse first. It lay in a slight depression twenty feet from the creek. Its belly was split wide, and the pearly coils that had spilled out glistened in the dim light. A few feet away he found the man. Most of his head was gnawed and slashed away. He knew it was Zascha from the man's great size and the European rifle still clutched in his fist.

Ki felt a quick moment of anger. He had wanted this one himself—wanted to meet him out here in the dark, one against the other. Settling things up for Lucy Jordan was
his
business, and the wolves had cheated him of that.

There was nothing more to learn, and he felt decidedly uncomfortable, vulnerable, and open. After a quick look around, he snatched up Zascha's rifle and hurried off through the trees, away from the creek, into the grasslands beyond. Crouching on his heels, he took deep breaths till his pulse slowed to normal. Thinking back, he put the picture together as well as he could. The death cry. Zascha, for certain. And Zascha's horse. The others, his and Lucy‘s, had bolted through the trees and would likely never stop until they dropped. But that wasn't the whole of it. There was
another
man out here—the one who'd shouted and emptied his pistol. If the wolves had gotten him too, his body would've been nearby. He couldn't get away on foot, so he still had a horse. Who was he? Ki wondered. What was he doing with Zascha?

It didn't matter. Whoever he was, he was long gone now if he had any sense. Ki shrugged, stood, and started off up the hill in an easy run. It was still a long way to the village. With any luck at all, he could get there in time to warn the settlers that they could expect more visitors. Maybe they'd believe him when he told them one of their own was involved.

Ki came to a sudden halt and stared down the hill. The horse lay belly up, twisting its legs in pain. The man was running frantically up the low rise beyond, plowing a drunken path through the grass. As Ki topped the hill, the man paused, looked wildly over his shoulder, and saw Ki watching. A ragged cry escaped his lips and he staggered back in fear, caught himself, and tore through the grass, screaming and waving his arms.

Ki ran along the crest, then angled down the valley. He narrowed the distance between them without effort, clutched a handful of collar, and tossed his prey to the ground.

The man howled, rolled in the grass, and kicked his feet. His clothes were ripped and he was covered with dirt and blood. Still, Ki decided, any man who had this much energy was not hurt badly.

“Stop it,” he said shortly. “Be still and let me see what's wrong with you.”

The man turned pale at Ki's voice, jerked his knees up under his chin, and covered his face.

“Don't hurt me don't hurt me oh Jesus don't hurt me!”
His cries were the high-pitched pleas of a frightened child. Ki stood back, shook his head, and grinned.

“I won‘t,” he said flatly. “I wouldn't hurt you for the world.”

 

 

Jessie stood against the wall of the cottage and peered into the dark. The sun had died quickly, and the night seemed to rush in to smother the earth. Even the cold stars and a bright full moon were masked by swiftly moving clouds. Jessie was grateful for the small fires circling the village. They were pitifully few, but better than nothing. At least they might give the settlement a few moments' warning.

Even as Jessie watched, a fire past the last cottage in the village flared quickly, then faded to embers. Footsteps sounded in the dark and Jessie gripped her Colt, then recognized Feodor and relaxed.

“Another fire is gone, yes?” he growled. “You don't have to tell me.” His dark features clouded with anger and frustration. “By
God,
Jessica. They have all left me—every one of them. Crept behind their doors like old grand-mothers.” He looked at the cane in his fist and gave a harsh little laugh. “Now I know what an elder is for. He does everything no one else wants to do!”

“You can't get
any
of them to stand up with you? Not one, Feodor?”

“No. Not one.” He gave her a long, weary look. “It is too much for them, Jessie. They have centuries behind them in the Old World—two years in this one.”

“I wish Ki were here. He could help, and—” She stopped and looked into the dark. “I'm worried about him, Feodor. I think he'd try to get back here before dark, whether he found Lucy Jordan or not.”

“He is a good man. He will be all right.” He stepped close to Jessie and held her. “You will fight me, but it is no use arguing. I want you inside. Now.”

“Oh,
wait
just a minute!” Jessie flared.

“No.” He raised a big palm to cut her off. “It is settled. There is too much danger out here.”

“But it's all right for you, huh?”

“I am a—”

“You finish that sentence with
man,
Feodor, and you're going to wish a pack of wolves would take my place!”

Feodor laughed. “You are a stubborn, impossible woman.”

“Oh?” Jessie's green eyes flashed. “That isn't what you said a while ago. You said I was very cooperative, that I drove you absolutely crazy and you loved it.”

“That has nothing to do with this.”

“Feodor...” Jessie's voice softened. “I know what you're trying to do and I appreciate it. Only I don't figure on being just a lover in bed. If I can lie down with you, I can do my part standing up, too.” She gave him a quick little smile. “It's not as if you've got any choice, you know.”

Feodor let out a breath. “I don't know why I even bother.”

“Well, I do. Because you‘re—My God! What's that?” Feodor dropped the silver cane and snatched up a Winchester leaning against the wall. “Move over to the left and cover me,” he snapped. “Keep low and close to the cabin!”

Jessie nodded and Feodor ran off into the dark. The shadowy figure moved toward him from the direction of the creek. No—there were
two
of them! Gray, indistinct forms against the lowering clouds. Jessie's hair stood on end as she steadied the Colt in her fist. The figures swam before her eyes, took on ungodly shapes...

“Hold it!” shouted Feodor. “Right there!”

“I'll be glad to,” said a familiar voice out of the dark. “I'm very tired of running.”

“Ki!”
Jessie cried out with joy, and ran down to meet him. Walking out of the high grass, he shoved the other man before him and sent him sprawling.

“I ran across a friend,” he said evenly. “I'm sure you will be pleased to see him again, Jessie.”

“What?” Jessie took a step back and stared.
“Torgler!
Now where in hell did he come from!”

“It's a very long story.” Ki shook hands with Feodor and gripped Jessie warmly. “I have much to tell you, and so does he, I'm certain.” He gave Torgler a dark look and pulled him to his feet. “Can we get inside somewhere? I could use a cup of coffee.”

Feodor exchanged a quick look with Jessie. “Whatever this is, I want Gustolf to hear. Whether I am welcome there or not.”

“What?” Ki looked puzzled.

“Never mind,” said Jessie. That's a long story too.“

Gustolf reacted as Feodor had expected, and tried to slam the door in his face. Feodor ignored him and shoved his way inside, dragging the disheveled Torgler behind him. Gustolf took one look at the man and shrank back in disbelief.

“The creature has struck again—it is back!” He shot an accusing finger at Feodor. “You see what you have done? I knew it!”

“You do
not
know,” Feodor said bluntly. “But this man knows a great deal. Sonia, would you see to his wounds? He is not badly hurt, but he needs help.”

Sonia gave him a dark look, but hurried to fetch rags and water.

“What—what is all this?” Gustolf demanded. “It is plain what has happened here. I do not need you to tell me!”

“I think that you do,” Ki said wearily. He wanted to drop in a chair and stay there, but stood his ground and faced the old man. “I followed Lucy Jordan from Roster and caught her at the old way station.” He glanced quickly at Jessie. “She's dead,” he said flatly. “A wolf tore her throat out.”

“Oh,
no!”
Jessie put a hand to her breast.

“The wolf is dead too, Gustolf. Lucy killed it. And not with a silver bullet.”

Gustolf's eyes narrowed. “I do not believe that. You are lying.”

“Damn it, I don't care
what
you believe!” Ki could hold back his feelings no longer. His dark eyes blazed with such fury that even Jessie was taken aback. “Try this, old man, and see how you like it. The man responsible for all these so-called werewolves was one of your own. Zascha! Now his pets have turned on him—he's dead back there on the creek.” He jerked up the rifle he'd been holding by his side and threw it at Gustolf's feet.

“No ...” Gustolf stared at the weapon and shook his head. “This is—not so!”

“It is,” Feodor said shortly. “Believe the man, Gustolf. For God's sake, come to your senses!”

“Believe
him!” Gustolf went rigid and trembled all over. “He is not one of us—he accuses one of our own of this horror, and you ask me to believe him?”

“Believe
him,
then,” said Ki. He walked over and grasped Torgler's shoulder until he winced. “Tell him. Now. We will hear your part in this. All of it.”

“Leave him alone,” Sonia flared angrily. “The man is hurt!”

“Not yet, he isn't.”

Torgler looked about wildly, his eyes darting from one side of the room to the other. “I—I don't know what you're talking about. I don't know anything!”

“You know a great deal about wolves,” prompted Ki. “That would be a good place to start.”

“I was attacked,” Torgler blurted. “Good God, man, you can see that. I left here for Roster and—”

“You did what?” Jessie raised a brow. “Torgler, you left here right after noon. You could've ridden to Roster and back half a dozen times!”