by Alex Archer
“That can’t be related to the mullo,” Doug said quickly.
“Doug.” Luke cast him a look. “Let me do the talking, okay? You just...listen, and record in your head.”
Thankful for Luke’s command, Annja nodded to Doug that he heed the man’s suggestion.
“We’ve seen the wolf,” Mamma said. “It was howling close to our homes last evening.”
“The mullo that shape-shifts to wolf form?” Doug hurried out.
Luke and Annja both glared at him.
“We heard a dog on the way over here,” Annja added. “Are you sure it was a wolf? They can sound familiar.”
“I know my dogs from the Canis lupus,” the woman said flatly.
“When were the children taken?” Luke asked. “Have you notified the authorities?”
Mamma made a dismissive gesture and sat back, elbow crooking over the back of the chair. She eyed the blue glass. “The local police do not take notice of the Roma. We cannot get help if we walk into town on fire.”
An unfortunate truth. Annja’s heart went out to the woman, and she wasn’t even the one in trouble. Had grieving parents already gone to the police about the missing children, only to be turned away?
“Is there any reason to believe someone has a grudge against the Romani who live in the area, and who might have done such a thing as to steal a child?” Luke asked.
Annja clenched her teeth. This was a case for the police. And not at all related to burning bones.
“If you could tell me what you think the discovery of the bones has...conjured...” Luke prodded gently.
“The mullo!” Mamma crooned, ending in a keening note that raised the hairs on the back of Annja’s neck.
“Dai,” Santos chided.
“You have a better explanation for what took Melanie’s son?” she said abruptly. “What of—?”
Beating the table with a fist, Santos marched out of the kitchen, the sword gleaming at his back.
Mamma shrugged and offered her guests another glass of gooseberry spirit. Both men refused. And Annja wanted to go after Santos and talk to him, but she sensed she’d get the best information from Mamma.
“The chavo, Tomas, was taken four days ago,” Mamma said as she settled forward, her elbows catching the table. Her eyes avoided Luke’s and Annja’s in favor of the old wooden cuckoo clock on the wall behind them. “The day after you discovered the buried undead.”
Annja was about to correct her, but held her tongue. To protest the undead, and the fact that no one would have known about Luke’s discovery if Daisy hadn’t spread the word like a blazing forest fire, held no value right now. Mamma was allowing them a peek into her life, into her beliefs. She would respect that opportunity for what it was.
Aware that Santos hadn’t left the small house, that he may be sitting in the next room, Annja nodded for the other woman to continue.
“My son cannot talk to you about this because he had harsh words with the boy’s mother a day before Tomas disappeared. He feels the guilt of his words, and regrets them deeply.”
As he should, Annja thought, if the man believed the dead would come back to take revenge.
Mamma continued, “Tomas was found a hundred yards from his home last evening. Stumbling, raving about monsters.”
“He’s alive?” Doug asked.
“Did you call the hospital?” Annja demanded.
Mamma shook her head and poured more gooseberry spirit from the decanter. Sadness weighed her down.
“He died shortly after his mother laid him in his bed. Early this morning. The mullo had opened him up.”
“Opened him up?” Annja asked. “Did he have...bites?” It was too incredible to ask, but perhaps the boy had been attacked by an animal.
“Across his back there was a large wound, stitched up with black thread.”
Annja exchanged a look with Luke. How often did a monster take the time to stitch up its victim?
“Did the authorities remove the boy’s body?” Annja asked.
The other woman raised her head and looked Annja straight in the eyes as she replied, “We did not call the authorities. It was too late. There was nothing they could do for Tomas.”
“Well, then...could we meet with his mother? And...see the boy?” Annja asked hesitantly. He may not have been buried yet. There would be a funeral ritual to follow.
“Yes,” Luke added. “If we could inspect the wounds? I promise we would leave Doug outside.”
The producer began to splutter, but Annja cut him off. “If there is someone harming your children—”
“Harming? The boy is dead. And I will not allow you near his body. The family would take that as a great insult. The lamentation has already begun and we are fasting. This bread is for after the funeral. In the morning we bury Tomas.”
With a brick in his mouth? Annja wondered.
What beliefs would these people have for a murdered child? Could they imagine the boy might return from the dead to attack them?
It was now apparent Annja had stepped into something that had nothing to do with her work at the dig site.
Luke laid a hand on her wrist and he gestured with a tilt of his head that they should step outside. Mamma sat nursing her vodka, her eyes focused on the dark hallway leading into the living area where Santos had disappeared.
“If you’ll excuse us,” Luke offered, and got up to follow Annja out into the moonlit yard.
Along the side of the house stood a tin washbasin with an old-fashioned washboard and wringer, and beside that a wooden stool painted with flowers. Half a dozen bikes in all states of repair were lined along the side of the house where Luke wandered.
He turned to Annja. “We should head back to the site, get in the car and never return.”
Doug sauntered up behind them, hands stuffed in his pockets. “That’s not an option. Don’t you see?” he said. “Someone is using the legend of the mullo to cover something darker and more vile.”
About to protest and suggest they call the authorities, Annja paused to run Doug’s suggestion over in her thoughts. It could indeed be a clever cover-up. But it was also something she didn’t want to involve Doug or Luke in. They’d already been kidnapped. Apparently more than one child had been kidnapped and murdered. Although Tomas had been kidnapped and released, only to die shortly after his return. That was strange.
And Garin had gone off in a helicopter with a cooler that sickened Annja to think of what could have been inside.
“I don’t know.” Luke toed the rusted wheel rim of a bicycle, his heel landing on a red-clay brick.
“It’s what I feel in my gut,” Doug said. “I’m not always right, but this is too weird any other way. But I do want to get away from here and head back to town.”
“Uh, we’ll probably need Santos to show us back through the forest,” Luke pointed out.
“I can navigate,” Annja said. “It was just a few bends and the path was obvious. And I’ve got a flashlight in my hip pack.”
“Great.” Doug turned toward the forest, which was completely black. “Wolves in the area, eh?”
Yes, wolves. But were they real or imagined, Annja couldn’t help but wonder.
* * *
“WHERE’S SANTOS?” DOUG asked as Luke strode by him on his way into the trees.
“He said to follow the path. Gave me a flashlight.” Luke wielded the small mag light near his shoulder, sweeping the beam across Doug’s face.
“It’s a mile, give or take,” Annja said. “I’ve got a light, too. We’ll be fine. Come on, gentlemen. And you, Doug, what’s up with not wanting to trek into a dark, creepy forest in search of vampires?”
“I prefer my vamps a little less sanguine than the ones rumored to stalk these parts.”
“O
h, you mean you like them to sparkle?” Luke asked.
Annja laughed at the jibe as she stepped onto the path through the brush.
Within seconds they were surrounded by utter blackness. The flashlight beams couldn’t permeate the dark farther than a few feet. Annja let Luke take the lead.
A person forgets how dark it is away from the city, she thought. And the night had chilled measurably. Wishing she’d worn long sleeves instead of the T-shirt, she trekked onward, thankful the biting insects were avoiding them.
Doug stepped on Annja’s heels for the third time, and she swung around to laser the flashlight right into his eyes.
“Annja!”
“Do you want to hold my hand?” she asked.
“No. But I wouldn’t mind walking alongside you.”
“Children,” Luke admonished from the lead. “The faster you move, Doug, the quicker we get to the other side.”
“I’m taking the middle.” Doug stepped around Annja and they trekked onward.
“Did you hear that?” Doug’s voice vibrated nervously.
“The squirrel in the tree above us?” she asked calmly.
“Probably smells the bread you stuffed in your pocket,” Luke called back. “Did you have to do that? The woman was kind enough to offer us food, and then you make off like a homeless bandit.”
“Just be quiet, Doug. We can navigate better if we can hear,” Annja said.
After a few moments of silence, they heard a long howl somewhere out in the darkness. A chill ran up Annja’s spine, and the muscles across her scalp tightened.
In front of her, both men looked at each other. Nobody spoke for a brief moment.
“Just a dog,” she finally commented, though she wasn’t sure about that. The difference between a wolf and a dog howl was negligible. Though wolves rarely barked, when they did, the sound was quite distinct from a dog’s.
They heard the howl again, low and angry-sounding.
“Far away,” Luke whispered.
“Not really,” Doug said. “It sounded close. Like it could be at the opening where we went into the forest.”
“If it is a wolf, then keep walking,” Annja said. “The dig site isn’t far. I can smell the smoke. Just keep moving.”
“Don’t look it in the eye,” Doug said. “I think that’s what I know about wolves. Or is it, look them in the eye? Show them you’re the alpha?”
“Wolves rarely attack humans,” Annja added.
Unless they were hungry or the humans had encroached on their territory. And they had the ability to bite fast and hard, so fast, in fact, that a human couldn’t predict the hit and get out of its way in time. This close to the Romani encampment, she hardly expected a wolf to attack.
They moved more slowly since hearing the howl. Luke’s flashlight blinked out. Doug swore.
“Take mine!” Annja called. She tossed her light toward Doug, who missed it, and the flashlight landed on the ground, a tiny glow in the leaves. The undergrowth and tree trunks were all the same, deep shadows upon darkness.
That’s when they heard a low, panting sound. Annja twisted to look behind her.
“Annja?” Doug whispered.
“Right here, Doug.” She reached out and he grabbed her arm. The smell of his fear was strong and acrid, and his fingers clutched her shoulder.
“If it’s a mullo,” he whispered, his fingers tightening into her muscle, “it shouldn’t have a grudge against us. We didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Except dig up its bones,” Luke muttered from the darkness. “Found it!”
The light beam swung toward Annja and Doug and then traced the path border. Two gold eyes flashed in the brief swing of the light beam.
“Keep walking, slowly,” Annja murmured. She’d thought that the dig site hadn’t been far off, but she couldn’t see a glimpse of the flame. She should see it by now.
There was a rustle of leaves and suddenly the eyes were on the path in front of them. How it had moved that fast, she had no idea.
“We need to walk in that direction,” Luke said. “It’s standing in our way.”
The wolf growled quietly, revealing its teeth. The light should have blinded it. It was a good height, perhaps the size of a German shepherd, but leaner, the legs longer and the body more muscled.
“The flashlight is making it angry,” Doug said.
“You want me to turn it off?”
“No!”
“You see a branch or something to use as a weapon?” Luke asked.
“There’s a thick one.” Doug’s voice wobbled.
“Where?”
“By the wolf’s foot.”
Overhead, an owl hooted, startling Luke into jerking the light upward.
The wolf dashed toward them. Luke stumbled backward, the flashlight slipping from his grip and rolling up against the branch.
Chapter 13
Teeth grazed Annja’s thigh, and she swung out with the sword, but didn’t catch the animal. She didn’t want to slay the wolf, just wound it.
They stood in darkness. Luke’s breaths came quickly to her left. She didn’t want to accidentally slash the blade across a man, either.
Doug’s yell chilled Annja’s blood. She stepped across the path, careful of the branches she couldn’t see, using Doug’s voice as a guide. The wolf barked and Doug screamed again.
Overhead an owl screeched and Annja could make out the flapping of the great bird’s wings as it flew away.
“Guys?” she called. “Luke?”
“I’m here,” Luke answered. “I’m okay. But what about Doug?”
At the sound of an animal tearing into clothing Annja’s throat tightened. The wolf yelped and a high-pitched whine was abruptly cut off. Annja felt fur against her leg, a tail twitching, as the wolf landed on the path before her. Its eyes caught the muted flashlight glow. She swept the sword in warning in front of the wolf. The creature didn’t flinch. It only growled, exposing its teeth threateningly.
“Doug?”
“I’m...here,” he said weakly.
The idea of killing such a beautiful animal made Annja’s gut clench. They were encroaching on its territory.
With a snapping growl, the wolf lunged for her. She managed to swing the sword, but it cut through air. The wolf’s forepaws landed against her chest. Instinctually, she knew she couldn’t move the sword to perform a wounding cut, so she dropped it into the otherwhere and grabbed the wolf’s jaws with both hands. Teeth cut into her palms as she forced the jaws wide.
The animal yelped and, shaking its head out of her grasp, stumbled away into the brush. They could hear high-pitched whining as it retreated from them.
Luke was at Annja’s side in a heartbeat. He’d claimed the flashlight and swept it over her body, stopping at her bleeding palms. “You’re hurt.”
“It’s wounded,” she said, “but that doesn’t mean it’s down. We need to get out of here. Doug? Where is he? Direct the light over there.”
Luke fumbled with the mag light and swept it over the body of the prone man. The leg of Doug’s jeans was torn but they couldn’t see much blood.
“He’s been bitten.”
Doug gave Luke the thumbs-up. “Dude.” Then he passed out.
* * *
LUKE PACED THE hotel room floor in front of the bed where Doug lay sprawled. Annja had placed a wet cloth to his forehead and then brought in the first-aid kit from the Jeep. She’d cut Doug’s jeans to below the knee where the teeth had penetrated into muscle. She’d cleaned the wound with alcohol and soap and bandaged it tightly.
Now she suggested he go to the hospital for a rabies shot.
“In the morning,” he said. “I’m tired and just want to sleep. Can it wait?”
“I sup
pose,” she said reluctantly. “We’ll find a clinic in town tomorrow.”
“I survived a wolf attack,” Doug said proudly, tossing the cloth off his head.
“That you did.”
“And the worst part?”
“What’s that?”
“I don’t have it on film.”
Ever the producer, she thought with relief. “Would have been difficult filming in the dark while trying to fight off the big bad, eh?” she offered with a grin.
Doug would work this one for days, weeks, surely. Wasn’t every day he was attacked by a wolf, and to walk away with just a scratch?
“You think it was the mullo?” Luke asked as he took Annja’s hands to inspect the wounds. Turned out only one tooth had punctured her palm, and she was only beginning to feel the pain now that her adrenaline was fading. Thank God her shots were up-to-date.
“Of course it was a mullo,” Doug retorted in a rapidly weakening voice.
“You buying into the idea of a dead man returning from the grave with the ability to shift into wolf shape now, Luke?” Annja asked. “I leave you with Doug for a day and your whole belief system goes topsy-turvy. Ouch!”
Luke tossed the alcohol wipe into the trash can, then grabbed the roll of gauze Annja had used to bandage Doug’s leg. “He could have been killed. You, too. I’m responsible. This is my dig. The fire, and now this wolf attack. What next?”
“Time to get out the garlic and stakes,” Doug said, his eyelids shut.
Annja allowed Luke to bandage her hand, knowing she’d peel it off in the shower, but it was his way of compensating for how badly he was feeling.
“I wonder where the thing came from?” Luke muttered.
Much as she wanted to believe Santos hadn’t thought anything wrong with sending three people out in the middle of the night, she felt a twinge of suspicion, and always trusted her instincts. She hadn’t seen the dog Mamma had claimed they owned. Could it have possibly been a wolf?
“I should talk to Santos first thing in the morning.”
“The funeral is tomorrow,” Luke said. “Wouldn’t be wise to go there while they’re mourning. Although I certainly would have liked a chance to look at the child’s body. I’m no surgeon and forensics is far from my specialty, but I keep thinking about what Mamma said about the stitched-up wound. My mind goes to those crazy stories about people waking up after a drunken binge in a tub full of ice, with stitches and a note telling them to get to the doctor because their kidney has been removed. Could someone have taken out one of Tomas’s body parts and then sent him on his way?”