CLAN

by Harry Shannon

  "I don't want to hurt you, but I will if you scream. Do you understand? Nod your head if you understand."

  She nodded jerkily and made a small, grunting sound.

  Case whispered again. "Talk to me. Make it short and sweet, and do it in a whisper. Do you understand? Nod."

  More jittery head movements. Case slipped his hand away. The woman whispered: "I didn't mean for it to happen; I don't know where she went. You have to believe me, this is all a mistake. Please don't shoot me."

  Bewildered, Case lowered the gun. "What the hell are you talking about, lady? Who are you?"

  "My name is Kelly, Kelly McCammon. I'm from L.A. Please, don't kill me. I don't want to die."

  PART TWO

  Children of a Darker God…

  In vain, he attempted to speak; from that very instant

  His jaws were bespluttered with foam, and only he thirsted

  For blood, as he raged amongst flocks and panted for slaughter

  His vesture was changed into hair, his limbs became crooked

  —Ovid, Metamorphoses

  8

  Near Jackrabbit Gulch, Wyoming

  Spring, 1895

  Witness another time, another century: A clear, starry sky that is whitish-blue like polished steel. A large clearing carved in the middle of the wilderness. There are four splintering, white-hooded wagons, gathered in a rough square around a roaring blaze. Two guards have been posted but they are relaxed and paying more attention to the aging storyteller than their duties…

  It is one night before the fullness of the moon, which hangs overhead like an evil jack o' lantern. The night chirps and rustles; insects and reptiles going about their business in relative silence. Yet even the lower animals seem tense with anticipation. No breeze stirs the floor of the basin and the wraith-like smoke from the fire curls and hangs in the air above the camp like some living thing.

  The men and women who have gathered here by the evening fire could be any other extended family—but they are not. They are unique in all the world, members of The Clan, who are known amongst themselves as We Who Change.

  And at the head of the group sits Moses, a grizzled and white-bearded mountain man whose chest and arms are massive; he speaks in a deep voice gone sibilant because of broken and missing teeth. The hissing is comforting to his followers. It sounds wise.

  "Assemble and grow silent."

  At his side is the round, flat-nosed squaw known as Nellie, who is not herself a changeling, although she travels with The Clan. Her humanity has proven eminently useful on more than one occasion. Her black, greased hair is garnished with feathers and when Moses ventures a jest it is always Nellie who laughs loudest.

  The youngest children have been tucked in for the night. They are huddled in the wagons, fast asleep or pretending to be. Some of the females are also hiding in the wagons due to menses. Their odor could urge the change before the time is proper and the blessings have been given. That would be far too risky.

  "It is time." Moses is regal and proud. The body language of the Clan gathered about him speaks volumes. He is respected, revered.

  "I must now recite the history. All come near and witness."

  As Moses speaks, Montana—a handsome young bookworm with tousled blond hair—writes furiously, taking everything down. He has a lean figure and wears a scowling, worried expression. Montana is known to possess a gentle soul and thus the change is difficult for him. At his side sits a female who is sleek and muscled yet agonizingly feminine. She heats the air around her. Her jet-black hair is up in braids. Even sitting with her hands harmlessly in her lap one can see that the girl ironically called Mercy clearly would show none.

  Two hormone-addled young males sit across from Mercy; staring, almost drooling. Cain and Matthew are writhing with conflicting desires; they want to kill, they want to mate. It is they who are approaching The Change.

  The adults around them remain calm and casual, setting the tone for the coming event; modeling that it should be disciplined and follow traditions. Matthew whines, Cain growls. Mercy smiles, the tip of her tongue protruding seductively from between her plump lips, and squeezes her arms together, raising her breasts. Their torment clearly excites and amuses her.

  A long, thick figure can be seen stretched out flat at the edge of the firelight. He is magnificent. His fur is silver and black; his eyes burning embers set in obsidian stone. At first glance, Obediah is a man in a coat made from wolf's pelt. A second look by the shadowy, flickering firelight and he is a gargantuan animal with a distorted head. It is difficult for The Clan to produce offspring. There are errors. Obediah is a shape shifter gone feral; he lives trapped between two worlds. He is a true monster to either species, for Obediah can become neither man nor wolf, and wears the skin coat to hide his deformity.

  "Ah, then maybe this will summon thee hither."

  Moses rolls onto one large ham and passes gas. Laughter ripples through the assembled.

  "I thought so."

  Old Moses drinks from a jug, grimaces; spits a second mouthful into the snapping, popping blaze. The fire roars up into the night, startling the clan and announcing the beginning of the ceremony. Everyone leans in closer, not wishing to miss a single word on this, the holiest of nights.

  Two of the adult females begin to mumble and slap their fingers along the surface of a drum made of cowhide and birch. They create a sensuous, disturbing cadence and rhythm that sets the mood perfectly. Thus it has been for generations.

  Moses half-sings, half-speaks the history of The Clan; the words are growled and grunted and performed as poetry, and all the while young Montana writes them down for the very first time:

  "It is said that two Scots did compete for a girl

  Who quickened their blood and soon brought them to blows

  And so honored tradition held them both to a duel

  To the death on the moors come the sunrise…

  The one known as Robert did toss and did turn

  He was stricken with fever and cursed all the Gods

  And begged for a demon to come to his aid

  That he should triumph and mate with the maiden…"

  Old Moses pauses here and looks around. He wriggles his thick, white eyebrows. He opens his mouth and juts out his lower jaw, then bares his teeth and howls in a startlingly loud voice. The other members of The Clan respond in kind; a rising chorus of barks and growls and screeching fills the night. Satisfied, Moses drinks from the jug and after a long and dramatic pause, continues…

  "Ohenan the God from the kingdom of wolves

  Did creep through the damp misty grass to behold

  The duel between boys become men on the moors

  With buckshot and blood—Robert killed but was wounded…"

  Here Old Moses slips one broad shoulder down as if badly injured and whines like a dog in pain. The Clan members pick up the whining and offer piteous cries of sympathy. Moses lowers his bass voice to a near whisper. His piercing eyes roam their faces by firelight, urging them to absorb the importance of these memorized words.

  "The wolves came to feast on the man left behind

  While Robert ran on through the bog and the cold

  He left a blood trail for Ohenan who followed his smell

  Fought bravely when cornered and brought to his knees…

  Ohenan approached to devour this man-child

  Who offered his throat in exchange for the victory.

  Ohenan delighted in the courage and honor and

  Bit deep to mingle their blood for all time

  We are of the Wolfsblood!

  Wolfsblood!"

  A chorus of yips and yaps erupts from the family. Far in the distance a wolf pack hears their cries and answers in kind. The Clan members laugh and jostle one another with delight.

  "Hail Wolfsblood! Hail Ohenan!"

  The two young boys, Cain and Matthew, are still half-human. They quickly escalate to shoving and pushing one another. Each has one eye on Mercy to
see how she is responding to their demonstration of courage and valor. For her part, Mercy is ruthless and flirts with each in turns, further inflaming their rivalry.

  "Ohenan is our father," Old Moses cries. He raises his fists to the prairie sky. "We live to praise him and to carry on his line so that it will not perish from the earth." He lowers his arms and glares at the two excited boys. "Stand!"

  Matthew and Cain rise to their feet. Their faces pale at the importance of this moment.

  Old Moses stands as well.

  "Tomorrow night the moon will be as full as the belly of a pregnant woman," Moses shouts. "And will mark the beginning of your journey as a son of Ohenan."

  Howls and growling.

  "You will change for the very first time and re-enact that first duel on the moors of old Scotland. No rules but one—the loser will bare this throat. The winner…" Old Moses runs his eyes up and down Mercy's lush figure to lascivious laughter. "The winner—breeds!"

  In rapture, in rage: OOOOOooooooOOOOOooo…

  9

  "Please don't hurt me," the pretty brunette gasped. Her shoulders were shaking with fear, flesh goose-pimpled from the cold lake air. "I don't want to die." Her rapid, shallow breathing suggested she was on the cusp of a panic attack. Joe Case glanced around furtively and then stepped back to calm her down. He tucked the gun away in his belt. "I have no intention of hurting you, lady. Now why were you following me?"

  "I didn't mean to lose it."

  Lose what? Case wondered.

  "I'm just trying to stay out of trouble, mister," the girl said. "You can understand that, can't you?"

  Case sighed. "Look, we had best start from the beginning, because the truth is I have no idea what you're talking about." He spread his empty fingers. "Look, no gun. Now tell me your name."

  The woman looked at him quizzically, one eyebrow raised. Even under the street lamp, Case could see that some color had returned to her cheeks. And that she was even somewhat attractive, in a bookish kind of way.

  "I'm Kelly McCammon and I work at Starburst."

  "No offense, lady, but what the hell is Starburst?"

  Kelly seemed taken aback. "We make action movies. We're doing the new Bruce Willis."

  "He's still working?" Case looked around the parking lot. "What do you say we go inside; maybe get something to eat, Ms. McCammon?"

  "What I need is a drink," she said.

  Case shrugged. "You can have one with dinner, if you want. But me, I'm hungry."

  Kelly stepped back a bit, but realized she was moving deeper into the shadows. She hopped to one side in an almost comical fashion, stopped directly under the street lamp and crossed her arms over her chest in an attempt to appear defiant. "Why should I go anywhere with you?"

  "Look," Case replied, "I saw you showing a photograph to that desk clerk with the red hair."

  "So?"

  "So then I caught you tailing me around the casino. Add those two things up and it becomes obvious that you and I have something to discuss."

  "I wasn't following you, for heaven's sake. In fact, I think this is all just some sort of misunderstanding. And by the way, I didn't catch your name."

  "I didn't give it."

  Kelly McCammon glared at Joe Case. Something in her facial expression reminded him of his daughter. The memory broke his heart. Confused, Case looked at the cement before responding. "My name is Case, lady. Joe Case."

  "Well, Mr. Case, I think what I want to do is go find a room and take a hot bath. Maybe we can meet for a drink afterward."

  "Nope."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "I have to talk to you, lady."

  "Now?"

  "Right now, Ms. McCammon. So you may as well get used to that not being up for negotiation."

  She sputtered with resentment. "Just who do you think you are?"

  "A cop," Case replied. He figured it wasn't much of a lie and the statement clearly made her cringe.

  "A cop. Oh, that's just great."

  "And you've gotten me curious, so we are going to have a long conversation, you and I."

  "I guess you're the one with the gun."

  Case grunted and pointed toward Lake Tahoe. "Yeah. Now, the wind will be moving in off the water soon, and you don't have a jacket. So we can stand out here, and you can freeze your butt off, or we can go inside like adults and have a conversation. That is, unless you just want me to pull the gun again."

  "I don't need to see your rod," she sneered.

  Caught off guard, Case laughed. "What?"

  "That little phallic symbol you bullies always need to carry. I don't need to see it to know you have it."

  "Oh. I wasn't sure what you meant."

  "You want to talk." She shook her head, tossed her hair out of her eyes and acted as if the decision was hers to make. "Okay, then I'll give you some of my time, Officer Case."

  "Detective."

  "Whatever. But don't think you're going to be able to just push me around any way you want."

  Case smiled ruefully. "Wouldn't dream of trying."

  An uncomfortable silence followed. They stared at one another like two kids on the playground. A clash of formidable wills. Kelly took in his physical size, broad shoulders and salt-and-pepper hair. He tried to keep his eyes off her figure.

  "Okay." Case took her by the elbow and directed her back toward the hotel. "Have you had supper? Would you like to get something to eat?"

  He could see Kelly wrestling with herself. She was clearly hungry and tired but unwilling to give him the satisfaction of agreeing. Her defiance brought a thin smile to his face.

  "What are you laughing at?"

  "Nothing," he said, not unkindly. "They have a pretty good dinner buffet inside. It's an all you can eat kind of thing. I would suggest we sit down over a meal and see if we can help one another out. If not, we'll just go our separate ways."

  Another long moment. Her arm and elbow relaxed and she started walking, away from his cupped palm. Case had to hurry to catch up. She was hugging herself against the evening chill.

  "I flew in to Reno this afternoon at three," he said. "You?"

  Kelly gave him a sideways glance filled with suspicion. Joe Case laughed again and slid into his best Anthony Hopkins impression. "Quid pro quo, Clarice."

  Her lips twitched. She didn't want to give in and let herself smile. "Yes, I flew in from Burbank, but on the four-thirty flight."

  "I'm looking for a man. His name is Bobby Lawford."

  He watched her carefully, saw no sign of recognition. She shrugged. "I'm looking for an employee who failed to deliver some script revisions." Kelly figured the lie was a small one, and whatever was going on here involved a lot of money. Why take chances?

  "What's her name, Kelly?"

  They arrived at the revolving door. Kelly said: "You first, Dr. Lecter." Case almost went into the casino before realizing she meant for him to share another confidence.

  "What else do you want to know?"

  "Why you are looking for this Bobby Lawford?"

  Case took her elbow, stepped into the door with her. The rubber whispered along the cement and then they were into the crushing noise of the Harvey's casino. He leaned closer to speak, and noticed the smell of her perfume. For the first time in a long time, he liked it. "I was hired by his wife. She wants me to find him so she knows he's alive."

  Kelly walked several steps before stopping at the edge of the entrance to the buffet. "Wait a second, I thought you said you were a cop?"

  "Moonlighting."

  "Can I see your ID, then?"

  Case flashed his wallet, which contained a reasonable replica of his old LAPD badge. He had considered PI work after retirement and thought it might come in handy. The woman didn't ask to look at it more closely. Case figured she didn't want to appear as upset and frightened as she was. She opened a small purse and smiled at the bored cashier. "Two please."

  Case let her pay. He followed her into the line and they both took plates an
d gathered some dinner. They did not speak until seated in a small booth at the back of the room. Then Kelly drank some water and leaned forward, elbows on the table.

  "Quid pro quo, you said."

  Case ate some meatloaf. It tasted like a dried out FedEx container in gravy. "Yes, ma'am. I'll show you mine, you show me yours."

  Another glare. "Let's skip the juvenile innuendoes, shall we?"

  This woman was becoming a pain in the ass. Case swallowed another bite before replying. He was struggling to control his temper. "You owe me one, lady. Who is it you're looking for, this woman who stole some papers?"

  "Script revisions."

  "Whatever."

  Kelly was suspicious, too. She watched Case carefully when she said the name aloud. "Her name is Selma. Selma Talbot."

  Case shrugged. "Never heard of her. And she worked with you at this movie company, Starburst?"

  "Yes." Kelly couldn't wait any longer and took several bites of food. It must have been better than his, because she chewed rapidly. Case kept his eyes on his plate or surveying the room, giving her time to relax. Finally, she continued.

  "Selma was supposed to deliver some script revisions to someone up here at the lake. She never showed up."

  "If she's missing, why not just call the cops? Why come after her yourself?"

  Kelly blinked. She stopped chewing and her eyes darted about. "I can't," she said. "At least not yet."

  "What about the people she was supposed to meet up here, what did they say?"

  Kelly looked down. "They checked out."

  "Excuse me?"

  "Nobody by that name was registered at the hotel. It seems they left within a few hours of her not showing up."

  "Do you know them personally?"

  She shook her head. "My boss does, but he's out of touch in France for a week. I need to solve this problem before he gets back, or my job is toast."

  They ate quietly for a while, which was fine with both of them. Case waited, and finally Kelly realized she'd given away more than he had. "Okay, so what do you think happened to this Lawford guy?"