Return of the Wolf Man (15 page)

“Why is this
happening?”

“Because none of us can truly die,” Talbot replied. He said it as matter-of-factly as when he’d given her his name. “You’d better leave, Miss Cooke.”

Caroline looked down at the water. The Monster had floated to the surface. Its massive shoulders were beginning to move and its thin, red lips trembled. Were they trembling from the cold, she wondered, or was the creature attempting to say something?

“Please
go!”
Talbot said to the young woman.

“Not yet, Mr. Talbot. Before I go anywhere you’re going to have to convince me that these events are real.”

“You see for yourself—”

“What I see is a big man with a hideous face. What I saw last night was a snarling man with a hideous face. I want to know that this isn’t all a big show. Some kind of vendetta against my aunt and her family.”

“It isn’t! You
must
believe me.”

“Must I?” Caroline replied.

She hadn’t actually seen the bodies of Henry Pratt and Mr. Porterhouse and she was starting to doubt again. Starting to think once again that the people of LaMirada were behind all of this. The locals she’d met were quirky enough to plan and execute something insane. Hadn’t Henry Pratt said the castle would make a terrific bed and breakfast? Maybe somebody on the mainland wanted to scare her away and buy the place cheap. And wouldn’t it make the place more marketable to visitors if it were supposedly haunted?

“You’re asking me to believe an awful lot, Mr. Talbot—”

“Right now, I’m only asking you to believe that this creature is dangerous,” Talbot persisted. “He’s evil, Miss Cooke.”

“In what way?”

“Look,” he said, shooting her a worried glance, “if I tell you what I know, will you leave?”

“That depends,” she said.

“Lord, you’re as stubborn as Miss Raymond,” Talbot said as he watched the creature carefully. “A century ago, Dr. Frankenstein built this Monster from the bodies of the dead. But he inadvertently gave his creation a criminal brain. When Frankenstein harnessed lightning in his laboratory and restored life to the dead tissue, the Monster had only one desire. To kill.”

“Randomly?”

“The Monster doesn’t hate the way men do. But he possesses the strength of one hundred men as well as the desire to protect what he likes or destroy what he doesn’t like. To punish those who try to hurt him.”

“What do you think he’s doing here?”

Air hissed slowly from the sides of the Monster’s mouth. The great head moved from side to side. The murky water rippled around him, its lively little waves making the Monster’s stiff flesh seem even more inanimate.

“Miss Cooke, we can discuss this later!”

“Answer me!” she demanded. “What is the Frankenstein Monster doing in the cellar of this castle?”

Talbot looked at her. “Count Dracula brought him here from Europe. I believe he was planning to give him a more subservient brain. Dr. Sandra Mornay was going to perform the surgery.”

Caroline wanted to say,
“Yeah, right. Brain transplants. And in 1948 no less.”
Instead she asked, “Why?”

“To guard Count Dracula, I suspect. We never found out for sure—”

“We?”

“Myself and Professor Stevens.”

“Professor Stevens,” Caroline said. “He’s the man who was killed here.”

“Yes.”

“By whom?” Caroline asked.

Talbot looked down at the ledge.

“You
did it,” she said. “But my aunt told everyone he was killed by—” Caroline stopped. She was beginning to understand—and to believe. Her great-aunt had blamed the murder on the mysterious Count Dracula. She did that in order to protect the name and whereabouts of Lawrence Talbot. But Aunt Joan wouldn’t have done that unless Dracula himself was a proven murderer.

A murderer? Or . . . a vampire?

Caroline felt like her mind was being overloaded. She tried to get back to where she was, to follow the story through.

“How did the Monster get down here?” she asked.

“I don’t know—” Talbot began, then stopped. “Wait.” His forehead wrinkled. “I remember watching as Professor Stevens poured gasoline on the pier. He burned it as the Monster tried to cross. The creature fell into the water. He must have floated or made his way here before the basement was closed off. The Monster was probably searching for Count Dracula.” Talbot looked around. “Yes. I remember talking to Chick Young and Wilbur Grey while they were here early that evening. I believe that this was the very room where the vampire kept the Monster.”

“But I don’t understand,” Caroline said. “How could the Monster have remained alive all these years? And what revived him?”

“Don’t you understand yet?” Talbot cried. “Our bodies are not like the bodies of mortal men. Perhaps the fresh air revived him. Perhaps one of those two men found him or maybe something else tore him loose from the bottom of the waters.”

The jackhammer,
Caroline thought.

The Monster snarled. Caroline and Talbot both looked over the edge as it rose with clumsy effort. Standing taller and taller and dripping mossy water, it was clothed in a charred black coat. Its right wrist was visible now; it was scarred like the face.

Talbot gently pushed Caroline back as the creature jerked from side to side and then front to back as it tried to retain its balance. It failed and fell back with a heavy splash, its arms pinwheeling. The creature lay on its back for a moment before it rose again. Then, half-stumbling, the Monster waded toward the dilapidated pier at the foot of the stairs. He lumbered onto the crumbling planks and stood. Caroline couldn’t help but stare. The creature was enormous.

“Get out of here!” Talbot shouted at Caroline.

Caroline crawled backward through the opening then reached in to help Talbot. He was able to get his head through but nothing more.

“You’re going to have to push!” she screamed as Talbot pressed his broad shoulders against the opening.

“I’m . . . trying!”

The sharp-edged brick tore the sleeves of his shirt and the tops of his arms. “The poker!” Caroline yelled. She pointed to the iron she’d left there the night before. “The fireplace poker is there, to your left. Use it!”

Talbot picked up the iron, got on his knees, and began hacking at the bricks on the right side. Behind him, the Monster started climbing the stairs. Unaccustomed to carrying the weight of its own body, the creature dropped to his knees. He crawled up several steps and stood again when he reached the landing beside the revolving door. He stood there for a long moment, his arms waving and his eyes half-shut. The Monster didn’t seem to have any destination in mind. Then, apparently hearing the
chink-chink-chink
of the poker on the bricks, the creature tilted its body back and looked up. With a snarl, he started up the second flight of steps. However, no sooner had he put his foot down and placed his weight on it than the rotted wood snapped. The foot fell through to the solid ground underneath. Growling, the giant hunched and threw his shoulders against the staircase. The entire frame shuddered and the Monster hit it again.

Talbot stopped chipping at the bricks on the right and switched to the left. “I don’t understand,” he said. “The Monster seems to be growing stronger.”

“Maybe that’s because he’s out of the water.”

“No,” Talbot said. The stairs shook again and he dug harder and faster. Perspiration flew from his forehead and fleshy cheeks with every chop. “The Monster requires electricity for strength.”

“What about all the microwaves that’re bouncing around?”

“The what?”

“Microwaves. From satellite dishes, cellular phones—”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said angrily. Clearly frustrated with his progress on the wall, he dropped the poker. “This isn’t working. Back away—I’m going to try to knock it down.”

Talbot wrapped his powerful fingers around the edge of one of the bottommost bricks and began wrenching it back and forth. Dust fell in sheets from the top of the doorway. The wall cracked slightly along the mortar line but the bricks held.

“I’ll help,” Caroline said. She turned around, put her feet against the bricks, and pushed.

“No!” Talbot said. “Just get away from here!”

Caroline ignored him. Talbot pulled harder on the bricks, grunting with each tug. Finally, with Caroline’s help, a leftside section of wall cracked along the mortar. A final pull from Talbot and push from Caroline and it flew inward.

“I think you’ll be able to squeeze out now!” Caroline said.

Talbot dropped to his stomach and began wriggling through the enlarged opening. He still couldn’t make it and had to lie on his side, diagonally. It was a tight fit but he began worming through.

Caroline looked past him as he struggled. The Frankenstein Monster’s growls grew louder as he climbed on the rubble he’d created and pulled himself onto the top half of the staircase. The Monster’s head was tilted back and he looked up from under his hooded lids. With a low growl he continued clomping up the second flight of stairs. Whenever they shattered beneath his great weight he stopped, leaned against the wall, and swung a leg up to the next step.

“Hurry,” Caroline cried. “He’s coming!”

There were only six steps between the Monster and Talbot. In just a few moments Talbot would be within reach of the Monster’s long arms. Grabbing his tattered shirt, Caroline tried to pull Talbot through. Grunting, the sharp-edged bricks rending his shirt and flesh, he finally got his waist out. He drew his legs from the basement just as the Monster reached the topmost stair.

“Let’s go!” Caroline said as she helped Talbot to his feet.

But the Frankenstein Monster didn’t stop. As Talbot stood the Monster slammed against the walled-up doorway. The structure held but it trembled: bricks, the door frame, even the wall itself. With a vicious snarl, the Monster stepped back and threw his shoulder against the wall. It shook again. This time even the chandelier in the center of the foyer rocked back and forth.

“You go!” Talbot said. “It’s me that he wants.”

“Why?”

“The last time he saw me I was attacking his master,” Talbot said. “I believe the Monster still wants to save him.”

“I thought you said he doesn’t think like people do.”

“He doesn’t,” Talbot said. “I told you, he protects what he cares about.” Talbot looked around. “I’ve got to stop him from leaving the basement.”

“How?”

“He’s afraid of fire.”

“There are matches in that box,” Caroline said, pointing toward the fireplace.

Talbot ran over.

Snarling again, the creature made a tight fist, drew his right arm back, and punched the wall. Several bricks fell out in broken chunks, followed by the Monster’s arm. Caroline held her hands to her ears to block out his awful cries.

Talbot scooped up the matches. “You go and get help,” he said to Caroline. “Bring men with torches and chains.”

“What about guns?”

“They won’t stop him,” Talbot said. “Go! Quickly!”

Caroline hesitated. She watched as the Monster punched the wall a second time. Bricks exploded into the foyer and she ducked, covering her head, as the giant forced his way through. Staggering over the rubble, he saw Talbot and stormed toward him. It was a bull-like charge, his head bent slightly, his shoulders hunched, his arms swaying in wide sweeps from side to side.

“Miss Cooke,
run!”
Talbot yelled as he snatched a small wood-handled shovel from the fireplace rack. “I’ll try to hold him back.”

Tearing off a tattered piece of his shirtsleeve, Talbot wrapped it around the bottom of the shovel and struck a match from the box. He touched the flame to the fabric and it blazed as he ran toward the Monster.

The creature stopped advancing. He staggered backward, waving his pale hands in front of his face, fearfully protecting himself from the blaze. Talbot, meanwhile, crouched and moved forward cautiously. By thrusts and inches, he pushed the Monster back toward the opening. But the makeshift torch was dying quickly.

Instead of running, Caroline glanced around the room for more kindling. There were shelves lined with books, a rug by the fireplace, and the floor-length tapestry—nothing that would help Talbot. Then she noticed a closet catty-corner to the basement door. She hurried over.

“What are you doing?” Talbot cried.

“Looking for something to burn!”

“I told you to leave!”

“I’ll go when you do,” Caroline said as she pulled open the door. She flew through the coats and jackets, looking for something that would burn.

Behind her, the Monster swiped at the fire and quickly withdrew his hand. A moment later he tried again. With each pass, steam rose from his moist flesh. As the flames died, his retreat slowed and his attacks became bolder.

“Here!” Caroline said to Talbot as she pulled an old scarf from a hanger.

She tossed the cloth to him and he wrapped it around the shovel. The garment caught fire quickly and Talbot used the blossoming flame to walk the Monster back.

Caroline looked around frantically for something else to put on the flame. As she did, the front door swung open slowly. Bright sunlight and a gusty sea breeze filled the foyer as Stephen Banning walked in.

“I kinda figgered Pratt would be bunkin’ over,” Banning said. “But how many times I gotta knock before—”

“Shut the door!” Caroline yelled as the wind dislodged burning pieces of cloth from the shovel.

“Christjesus!”
Banning cried as he stood rigid from chin to heels, staring at the Monster.

“The door!”
Caroline screamed.
“Close it!”

Banning thawed. He screamed, turned, and ran, leaving the door open.

With an oath, Talbot hurried toward the door to shut it. But his sudden movement caused the flaming scarf to come apart. He stopped to keep from losing the fire entirely; as he did the Monster stomped forward, swung a powerful arm, and swatted the shovel away. It flew across the room and landed in the center of the staircase. Burning pieces of cloth were still stuck to the shovel and they licked at the hem of the tapestry.

“God,
no!”
Caroline cried as she ran over.