Still on her knees but awkward because of how he had driven her there, Beth Ann looked up at Leo and her lips formed words Nick couldn’t hear. Leo’s wide back half hid her from view, and Nick swung his weight slightly to see better.
The bastard had hit her!
Fucking-son of a bitch-bastard!
His hands itched madly, and the hairs on his arms and on the back of his neck stood up in prickly rows. Deep anger built in his lower belly, heating his organs and working its way back up to his head. A growl bubbled in his throat, a sour animal taste burst onto his tongue, and it was like on those full-moon nights when the silver disk seemed to reach down and flip a switch in his body, and he would change just like that, shedding his clothes…and his humanity.
He felt just like that now.
In daylight.
He gripped the binoculars harder and swung them, trying to find Beth Ann. Suddenly he had her in focus. He let out a groaning cry of surprise.
Leo wasn’t beating her anymore. His meaty hands now grasped the back of her head and held her in place while he drove his groin at her over and over.
Jesus!
Nick’s anger turned to confusion. He couldn’t see that well, but he was almost sure.
Leo was forcing Beth Ann to give him a blow job.
The term was tantalizing in his mind. She was giving him head, blowing him.
Whatever.
Nick knew it was sex, and his body started to respond, but he could see that Leo was forcing her, threatening her with one hand, pants bunched down around his knees. Then Nick saw Beth Ann better, her face streaked with tears and disgust, hate and fear. Her eyes were clenched closed.
In her mouth was that…that motherfuckin’ ugly dick.
Leo shoved in and out and in, until suddenly thick white liquid gushed from Beth Ann’s mouth and she recoiled, gagging and spitting and Leo was laughing.
Nick’s muscles rippled of their own accord and his veins screamed out in pain, his nostrils flaring open and the scent of evergreen suddenly overpowering everything. His hands itched ruthlessly as stiff, coarse hairs grew out in patchy tufts.
What the hell—?
It was all familiar, aspects of the Change…but where was the moon? It was broad daylight.
His anger swelled, mixed with a strange lust. The growl worked up his throat, coming from deep inside where the Creature waited.
Flash.
Flash.
Images of Leo’s lily-white throat parting under his fangs, tearing, ripping, blood spilling out in a thick gush.
Flash.
Nick felt his body beginning to go over, the wolf side pulling him inside out, starting to take control.
Without warning, something grasped his ankle and yanked it off the branch holding his weight. Thrown off balance, he plunged off his perch and crashed onto the dirt below, landing half seated, pain lancing through his tailbone.
The wolf retreated. The scent that now filled Nick’s nostrils was familiar. And feared.
From the Journals of Caroline Stewart
November 1979
It seems only yesterday I last wrote in these pages, but a glance at the date tells me it was almost three months! I’m not one to wax poetic about love and devotion (though I’m certainly a romantic at heart) because I’m pragmatic and realistic. I’ve seen enough in my studies to realize that people are selfish and greedy, and terribly self-centered about love and sex, too. So, I’ve always tended to be cautious in my relationships. But now that Nick and I have become intimate, he’s grown into so much more than a pretty former student, a distraction. His need for intimacy is only surpassed by his fear of it, fear that his “condition”—as he calls it—will hurt everyone he loves. Or worse.
I know he worries about me. Ever since he convinced me that his condition is real, we have attempted to understand its nature. After all this time, I still tend to think it’s scientifically explainable. Nick doesn’t agree. One thing we do agree on is that the condition makes him stronger, improves his physical capabilities, and increases his stamina…does it ever! (I’m blushing as I write that.)
Our experiments these last three months led me to the conclusion that scientific or supernatural, or somehow a combination of the two, Nick may well hold the key to its control in his psyche. We have proven the moon’s influence on Nick during its full phase, influence he cannot reverse, but it’s also certain that traumatic or highly emotional stress triggers partial “events.”
We’re going with horror movie terminology and calling it “the Change,” especially because Nick feels very emotionally tied to those movies that portray his problems with sympathy. When Nick is least in control of his emotions, partial Change occurs no matter what phase of the moon. Whether he is dis-traught—or aroused!—characteristics of the Change begin to exhibit: sporadic hair growth, involuntary growling, muscular enhancement, and yes, even genital enhancement. All of these occur spontaneously and increase Nick’s potential as both person and future police officer. It’s my contention that if he (we) can learn to harness his “condition” carefully, Nick will be able to exploit it rather than letting it exploit him.
In the next few pages, I will outline some of the experiments we conducted this summer. Now that classes are about to resume, I’ll need to scale down our explorations—except sexually, where I can’t help myself! I thought after my father and brother’s abuse I would never again be able to enjoy sexual relations, but Nick’s so-called condition (and his love, devotion, loyalty, need, defenselessness—all that) makes him a very exciting lover. Since I believe all these elements are connected, I will not exclude them from these private pages. The connection between Nick Lupo and me is real and it can only improve as we set forth to understand this Creature he harbors inside him.
CHAPTER FOUR
Arnow
Today his mug was washed and filled. Rita had returned to work despite the cough or cold or whatever. He had pulled rank, gently reminding her she was important to the operation and if she didn’t do her work during a crisis, well then, maybe the county would ante up for a replacement.
He wondered if she would spit in his coffee. She didn’t seem the type, but you could never tell. She’d been training a night dispatcher, a girl barely out of high school with piercings in her eyebrows.
He sighed and decided to forgo the coffee.
Rubbing his temples, he reviewed his impression of the new crime scene.
Shit. He’d barely gotten over the first one.
The mayor hadn’t called yet, but he would.
He looked up and managed a strained smile. At least this was pleasant. “Dr. Hawkins, good to see you again.”
Who was that, behind her? He limped slightly.
“Tom, I want you to meet Dominic Lupo.”
He’s a cop, Arnow thought before she could confirm it. Not as tall as Arnow, but more powerfully built, a few years younger. Dark complexion. Italian nose. Hair longer than Chicago PD standards. A wild, haunted look in his eyes, like someone who’d been on the job too long, seen too much.
As he reached out to shake hands, she added, “Nick is a hom icide detective from Milwaukee.”
“Always good to meet a fellow badge.”
“My pleasure,” Lupo said. His grip was solid, not a show-off.
“Tom Arnow. What brings you here to God’s Country?” He put a smirky spin on the phrase. After all, he had two gutted and devoured victims to deal with.
Lupo must have been the taciturn type. Jessie answered for him. “Nick is just up for the weekend. I thought maybe you’d like a fellow cop—a city cop—to bounce off…” Her voice faltered as she realized there might be an unintended insult behind her words.
“Sure, sure. Here, sit down.” He cleared files off his two guest chairs. “It’s messy, I won’t lie. Probably could use a second opinion, Jessie.”
Did Lupo’s guarded look harden at the familiarity?
He described both attacks, crime scenes, and the condit
ion of the bodies. Lupo rarely blinked, didn’t interrupt. Arnow sensed the quiet cop was all business. Definitely involved with Jessie. He fought down a stab of envy.
“Torn apart, you said?” Lupo asked finally.
“Bitten, gnawed, ripped open, then torn apart, limb from limb, as they say. Partially consumed.” He tented his fingers. “Of course, these are just my observations. First autopsy should be under way by now. The second—well, later. I think there was saliva left on some of the wounds, so we might get a DNA reading but it takes about a week. Fact is, both acts are very similar. Animal attack looked good with the first one, Blackthorn, though I’d say it was excessively savage—even for a hungry animal. The second’s a convincing case for murder tricked up to look like an animal, though. Both victims were members of the local tribal council. That doesn’t strike me as a likely coincidence.”
Lupo met his eyes squarely, but Arnow couldn’t read much there besides professional curiosity.
“No, it doesn’t.”
“I’d like Jessie—Dr. Hawkins—to lend her expertise to the task force.”
She blushed. “Task force?”
“Well, so far it’s just me and a couple of my deputies. Maybe the rez cops. I’m looking to expand the knowledge base.” He looked from one to the other, then settled on Lupo. “Your help might come in handy, too, Detective.”
“Nick.”
“Okay, Nick. I’m not a territorial guy here. I’m too new. You two are sure as hell more connected locally than I am, and maybe you can cut through some of the bullshit faster than I can. Jessie, you have a lot of pull on the rez, too. And Nick, you’re something of a local hero.”
Lupo grunted.
Arnow wondered. Pushing the hard sell too much?
“Look, I’m heading out to the scene again in a while. I’m expecting a call in a few minutes. If you’d care to hang out until I’m free and then check it out, I’d be grateful.”
Dammit, did he sound like a beggar?
Screw it.
Lupo
A half hour later they followed Arnow’s cruiser to the new crime scene. He had waved off their concern about the crime lab folks still being there. He hadn’t said a word about his call, but his sour expression was sufficient to give them a clue.
Several taped-off areas indicated pieces of the newest victim. Arnow pulled up and waited for them.
“This guy—uh, Hector Sandy—apparently went for his nightly walk and was ambushed here. Looks like more than one animal got him. He glanced at Jessie. “Bite marks seem to be of different sizes, but we won’t know for sure until the autopsy.”
“He was a council member?” Lupo asked. “Is this rez land?”
“Yeah, a senior member. And he lives on rez land, but this part of the road is off the rez, by not a whole lot. He walked from the rez into my county. It’s one of the things that makes this investigation messy. Both rez and county are involved. Eagleson of the tribal council has officially requested my assistance, given the lack of police resources. I wish I could request someone else’s assistance, honestly, given my resources. I have a call in to the feds because of the gaming angle to the first killing, but for the moment I’m stuck with this…whatever you want to call it.”
“Streak?” Jessie offered.
Arnow frowned. “That’d do, I guess. If it’s wolves, then it’s a pack. And that will bring into question all the reintroduction of wolves that’s been going on here and in Minnesota. People will revert to their old instinctive fears. Maybe there’s a disease out there messing with their brains.”
Jessie nodded.
Lupo felt the Creature stirring inside. It wanted to hit the woods again. But was it also picking up something that might lead him to the truth?
The crime lab people had finished gathering the remains, but the blood splatters now drying on the cracked asphalt road and the undergrowth lining it were disturbingly similar to what the Creature left behind after taking down its prey.
There was no doubt in Lupo’s mind that wolves had done the damage here. The photos Arnow had shown them of Blackthorn were clear enough.
Lupo hadn’t attacked the two men, but then who had? The Creature had caught their scent, but it was confused. There were several attackers.
Werewolves.
Jessie
She listened to the two cops drone on about the killings. She couldn’t help shivering. This brought back memories of Martin Stewart and that psychopath Wilbur Klug. But now she felt as though things were spinning out of control even faster.
She didn’t have to read Nick’s mind to know what he suspected. He hadn’t spoken much of his night’s ramble, but if he’d caught the scent of other wolves, then that was bad enough. But if they were humans who carried the werewolf gene, it was a whole other game. Because Nick had always told her he assumed he was the only one of his kind.
Have to call Sam and let him know, she thought. Tell him to watch his back.
She felt as if she were drowning. What to do? What could she offer? How to help Nick help Tom? Could the two work together?
“I’ll have the crime-scene photos sent over when I get a free deputy,” Tom said. “I’ve got them running around checking on other council members right now.”
“Good thought,” Lupo said.
“I’ve deputized the rez cops, too,” Tom added. “Not quite sure whether I have the authority, but the mayor’s been on my ass already. The county’s bound to be soon, too. I figure we need all the help we can get. We’re just a resort town.”
She broke in. “Mayor Malko is hassling you?”
“Just after you left. I was expecting his call, remember? So far these attacks are limited to Eagle River, his town. Anyway, he chewed my ass for about five minutes straight, then I reassured him we were following up leads, he didn’t quite believe me, and we left it at that.”
“Nice.”
“He’s not so nice, Nick,” Jessie began. But then she realized that Nick wasn’t responding to Tom’s description of the call. He was looking at a brilliant Lexus SUV that was just coming to rest behind their vehicles.
Shit, it was that television woman from…where? Wausau?
Jessie frowned at Nick. Was he referring to the shiny SUV, or its driver, who was now climbing out? Wearing a tight pair of pants and leather blazer, her golden hair cascading around her like a halo, on her face a big smile.
“Sheriff,” Wilson said, nodding as she reached them. She ignored Jessie, but turned right toward Nick. “And you are Detective Lupo from Milwaukee PD, aren’t you? I remember you from that terrorist thing a couple years ago. I spoke to you on the phone back then. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
She extended her violet-nailed hand, and Nick shook it. Jessie thought they clasped a bit longer than necessary.
“Uh, nice meeting you,” he said. Nick was usually shy around new people.
Damn her, showing up like this.
Where was her camera crew?
Jessie couldn’t help glaring at her in the spring sunlight. This chick had her television face on, lots of perfect makeup, hair perfectly set for a close-up, skin so perfect it almost hurt.
Little Miss Perfect.
Jesus, I’m jealous!
The realization shocked her. Over the years she’d been told repeatedly she was attractive, that she had nothing to fear from other women. Nick certainly seemed committed to her. But the way Tom had reacted to this—what was her name? Watson? Wilson? Heather Wilson. The way he’d let her walk all over him had stuck in Jessie’s craw. And now she was set to walk all over Tom and Nick. Jessie sensed that all the testosterone present seemed to be heading south. And why not? Wilson looked barely contained in her clothing, as if she’d just stepped from a Penthouse photo shoot. What male could resist that kind of star power?
“So are we dealing with a serial killer here, or a wild animal escaped from a nearby zoo?”
Jessie thought Wilson was joking at first, but she appeared dead serious.
“This is off the record,” Wilson added. “I’m holding off my crew so I can get some speculation about the killings, Sheriff. Of course, I also hope to film a new report for my remote later on, and assure viewers that the Vilas County Sheriff’s Department is doing its best to capture the animal or whatever it is that’s terrorizing the area.”
Arnow blanched. “Now, I’m not sure terrorizing is the right word here—” he began, but she interrupted him.
“Two dead, both tribal council members. The rez makes up a large portion of the county. I’ve spoken to some of the other elders, and I’d say they sound terrorized.”
“Well, maybe nervous,” Lupo allowed. “But I know some on the council well, and I don’t think I’d characterize…”
“Sam Waters, for instance,” Wilson broke in again, nodding. “Yes, I know him. I remember him from the, uh, terrorist thing.” Her smile was enigmatic, hinting at her doubts about the official story. Then her voice turned to honey. “Detective Lupo, your status here is unimpeachable. Your friend Sam Waters was a vocal opponent of the casino project, and by all accounts you two were the heroes of the Martin Stewart mess. Care to share anything you may have discussed with Mr. Waters?”
“No,” Lupo said, a bit too quickly. His tone softened. “We haven’t spoken yet. I’m here for the weekend, but not officially…”
“Yet you’re visiting the crime scene. I’d say you have some official standing.”
“Strictly the sheriff’s professional courtesy. Dr. Hawkins may consult on the case.”
Wilson turned her high-powered stare on Jessie. “Ah, Doctor, do you have some hypothesis to share?”
Damn you, Nick, she thought. Nice way to deflect her attention to me.
“I’m not officially attached either,” she said. “I may join a task force, but I’d be representing the reservation’s interests more than anything else.”
She wondered whether Arnow’s look of annoyance was real, whether it was meant for her or for Wilson. This case was too wrapped up in weird jurisdictions, shared concerns, and shared resources—yet there were grave differences in everyone’s motives and desires.
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