by Jane Toombs
Ulysses came alert and found himself crouching by the the window, naked. Outside, men cursed in the Americano tongue, dogs barked. He sensed the presence of many men-- eight or more.
Inside, Don Alfonso shouted. "Ulysses! Juan!"
There was no time to dress. Grabbing the dressing robe Esperanza had made for him, he shoved his arms in, wrapped the robe around him and tied the sash as he flung his bedroom door open.
Colt in hand, he ran toward the courtyard door to make sure the heavy bar was in place. Before he reached the door, a woman screamed from upstairs. Esperanza!
Ulysses raced up the steps toward her bedroom. Below,
a pistol cracked. The don's? He reached her door. Locked. Five people inside, one with a flickering life force. Esperanza screamed again. Ulysses stepped back and, with all his strength, slammed his shoulder into the door. The upper leather hinge gave, the door tilted into the room and he crashed through, almost falling over Tia Dolores' limp body. Three Americanos were in the room, one forcing Esperanza onto the bed, one standing next to him, another near the balcony door.
Bringing the Colt up, he fired at the man near the balcony just as the Americano shot at him. The man staggered; Ulysses felt a sting along his upper arm. He turned the gun to the man beside the bed, fired again. The man fell. The third sprang up, holding the sobbing, half- naked Esperanza in front of him as he fumbled at his holster. Just as Ulysses sprang toward him, he sensed two men behind him.
A gun cracked as he dived for the legs of the man holding Esperanza, the bullet whistling over him. The man fell backwards, losing his hold on Esperanza. For a moment Ulysses grappled with him and then the other two leaped on him and he found himself fighting three men, one with a knife whose long, curved blade gleamed in the moonlight.
On the floor beside them, Esperanza whimpered. Aware of what would happen to her if he were killed, Ulysses snarled with rage. Something inside him twisted. He howled with pain and fury and then he knew no more.
Free! He was free! The smell of men surrounded him, acrid with fear. He paid no attention to those sprawled unmoving on the floor, leaping instead at the throat of one who backed away from him.
A loud crack, a sharp sting on his flank, an unpleasant stink, then his teeth sank into flesh and the hot, salty
tang of blood flooded his tongue. But something wasn't right about the taste. He turned from the kill and ran down a fleeing man who stabbed at him with something shiny and sharp. As he broke the man's back, he remembered its name.
A knife. He turned, snarling, to the only other man left on his feet.
"Jesus!" the man shouted, backing away. "A Goddamn beast!" The loud crack came again--from metal in the man's hand.
Gun, he told himself, as a burning sting filled his gut. He leaped at the man. The Americano turned, sprang through an opening, climbed a metal barricade and jumped to the ground, falling heavily. He followed, catching a glimpse of something large and hairy moving beside him. Since he could sense nothing there, he cleared the barricade in a running leap and landed lightly beside the man.
The man screamed, lurching to his feet in an attempt to flee. He died where he stood. The taste of the man's blood was wrong and he spat it out. He craved blood but not this kind. Not the blood of men. Men weren't his proper prey. With moonlight streaming over him, he felt the stinging from the knife and the gun ease, healing. He'd leave the men and run under the moon, hunting.
A high, quavering voice called from the room he'd left. "Ulysses! Oh, dear God, Ulysses! Where are you?"
Ulysses. He tensed. The call came from not a man but a woman and she meant him, yet not him. She mustn't see him. He melted into the shadows, intending to clear the wall and flee. Clouds covered the moon.
A man crawled through a window onto the ground beside him, saw him and screamed. The man didn't live to scream again.
With the moon hidden, the urge to hunt faded. But he couldn't stay here. Keeping to the deepest shadows, he loped toward the wall. Before he reached it, he felt a twisting, a terrible wrenching and then--nothing.
Ulysses stood in the courtyard by the oak, staring down at his naked body, a nasty taste in his mouth. Frightening thoughts of teeth tearing and of blood raked through his mind. What in God's name had happened? The last he remembered he'd been in Esperanza's bedroom trying to fight off three Americanos. How had he gotten here?
"Ulysses!" Esperanza's cry chilled him. Was she all right?
He raced to the door, found it barred, noticed an open window and stumbled over a dead body before he was able to climb through the window into the house. He grabbed a serape from a hook by the door and flung it over his nakedness
as he plunged up the stairs. He caught up to Don Alfonso just as he reached Esperanza's door, half-off its hinges. He remembered crashing through it.
In the room, Esperanza sat on the floor in a torn and bloody nightgown, Tia Dolores' head in her lap. "Thank God you're alive!" she cried when she saw the two of them. Then she burst into tears.
Since he sensed Tia Dolores still lived, Ulysses paid no more attention to her or to the four dead men on the floor. Gathering Esperanza into his arms, he sat her on the bed and wrapped a quilt around her. Her father eased down beside her.
"Have a look around, will you, to make certain we're safe?" the don asked. "I'll look after the women."
He couldn't assure the don he sensed no men nearby without revealing his unusual ability, so Ulysses nodded. As he started to leave the room, he saw his robe on the floor and bent to pick it up. Underneath was his Colt. As he rose, gun in hand, he caught a glimpse of himself in
a large gilt-framed mirror hung on Esperanza's wall. He grimaced. His flesh not hidden by the serape was crusted dark with blood. He looked every bit as frightening as any beast.
Terror laced through him. One of the dead man had his throat torn out. By what? By the beast? It sure as hell looked that way. But how was that possible?
He turned abruptly and pushed past the broken door, his heart pounding in panic rhythm. As he searched the upstairs rooms, then those downstairs, he found two other dead Americanos near the library--both shot to death. In their room near the kitchen, Rosa and Paquita cowered in a corner, weeping.
"You're safe, the Americanos are all dead," he assured them before he unbarred the kitchen door to go outside.
He located one more dead man with a torn throat in the courtyard. Outside the gate, he found Juan's body. He lifted the dead vaquero and carried him into the quarters they'd shared, where he laid him gently on the bed. Juan had died trying to warn them.
"Adios, mi amigo," he said softly.
Outside again, he scanned as far as he could sense. There were no human life forces near except for those in the casa--the three old women, the don and Esperanza.
He stopped to wash the blood from himself at the bucket near the corral, then paused in his room to pull on his trousers, fighting off all thoughts of the beast. He must be mistaken. He had to be mistaken.
Don Alfonso was in his library, pouring brandy. "Esperanza's unhurt," the don assured him. "Tia Dolores is coming around--they shoved her when she tried to protect my daughter and she hit her head on the corner of the wardrobe. She'll be all right--already she's consoling Esperanza." He handed a half-full glass to Ulysses.
Ulysses opened his mouth to tell him about Juan but the don continued. "Esperanza tells a very strange story. She insists the beast was in her room."
Memories hammered into Ulysses' head like nails into his coffin. Waking naked on that morning by the stream. Naked an hour ago by the courtyard oak. The wrenching. The taste of blood. The truth burst through him with such force he rocked back on his heels.
He knew what the beast was. Who the beast was.
Chapter 5
Stricken, Ulysses stared into his glass of brandy, not daring to look at Don Alfonso as he waited for the condemning accusation. If Esperanza had seen the beast, then she'd seen him change into the monster. She knew what Ulyss
es Koshka was and she must have told her father.
"Drink up," the don ordered. "We need more than the brandy to banish this night from our souls."
Numbly, Ulysses raised his glass and drained it, still not meeting the don's eye. The fiery liquor warmed his stomach but didn't touch the chill around his heart. Or maybe it was his soul. If he had one.
Oborot, a voice inside his head accused. Shapeshifter. He couldn't believe it was true, though at the same time he knew what he was.
I'm a man, he told himself desperately. A man.
Oborot. His own people's word for men who changed to beasts.
He was a man and yet he was not. And who, in God's name, were his own people?
"I drink to you," the don said, raising his glass. "You saved my daughter this night and her life is dearer to me than my own."
Ulysses blinked and looked at him. To his surprise the the don was smiling.
"You've earned her hand ten times over, mi amigo," Don Alfonso said. "Without you, we'd all be dead."
Was it possible Esperanza hadn't told her father everything?
"The beast?" Ulysses managed to ask.
The don shrugged. "Who knows? I don't doubt Esperanza believes she saw something strange but at the time she was frightened nearly out of her wits." He scowled. "The Americanos behaved like beasts, that was clear enough. How many men attacked us?"
"Eight. All dead."
"I killed two. You and Juan accounted for the rest." Ulysses took a deep breath. "Juan died fighting them." Don Alfonso sighed and crossed himself. "He died nobly. May his soul rest in peace." He drained his glass and set it on the table. "Dead or alive, the Americanos profane my casa. You and I, we must dispose of them."
They hauled the two by the library into the courtyard before climbing the stairs to Esperanza'a bedroom. Ulysses steeled himself to face her but neither she nor Tia Dolores were in her room, only the three dead Americans.
"We will throw their bodies down from the balcony," the don said. "They deserve no better." He paused by one of the bodies, studying it. "No bullet killed this man. Observe how his throat is torn."
"I noticed." Ulysses spoke tersely.
"Did you see a beast of any kind?"
"I--no, I didn't." The words sounded lame to Ulysses. The Don slanted him a look. "Most likely the Americanos brought with them a vicious dog and, confused by the fighting, the animal turned on its master, no es verdad?" Sweat broke out on Ulysses' forehead. Did the don suspect the truth? He swallowed, unable to speak, keeping his eyes from the mirror, half-fearing he'd see the image of the beast instead of his own familiar face.
"Never mind," the don said, "it matters little how these Americano pigs died. Between us, we routed them, you and I-- if some animal assisted us it was to our advantage. Come, mi amigo, we must dispose of these bodies. It's not proper for them to remain in my daughter's room."
Ulysses had recovered most of his composure by the time they finished their grisly task. The don might not be completely satisfied about what had happened but Ulysses
felt confident he wasn't under suspicion.
Examining the thick trunk of the wisteria that wound around the balcony, he decided the Americanos had gained entrance to the casa by climbing the vine.
"Maybe Esperanza should take another room," he
suggested as he showed Don Alfonso the gouges on the wisteria trunk. "Just in case."
The don nodded, his face grim. "I shall sleep here from now on. The bastards won't get past me! I'll have the servants make the change in the morning."
As they left the room, Ulysses glanced across the hall toward the closed door to the bedroom Esperanza occupied and the don smiled.
"You wish to see my daughter once more before you sleep," he said. "I understand." Before Ulysses could say anything, he tapped at the door. "May we enter?" he called. "Come in, papa," Esperanza answered.
Ulysses noted she hadn't invited him in and he hung
back but the don propelled him forward. Ulysses braced himself. Would she accuse him the moment she set eyes on him?
Esperanza's gaze slid from her father to Ulysses. "Oh!" she said, bringing a hand to her breast, now covered with a soft pink robe.
He waited, holding his breath while she stared at him, her eyes wide and dark.
"Thank God you're alive!" she said at last. "I feared the beast killed you as it did the Americano." She dropped her face into her hands. "I've never seen such a horrible monster!"
Watching the don enfold his daughter in his arms, it filtered through to Ulysses that she made no connection between him and the beast. She'd missed seeing the change! He let his breath ease out. No one knew what he was. He was safe--if only for the time being.
From a cot at the foot of the bed, Tia Dolores raised her head and glared at him malevolently, telling him without words that she was well aware that he and the beast were one and the same. She'd been unconscious, she couldn't possibly have seen him change, and yet she knew. She'd known all along.
Spawn of the devil, she'd called him from the beginning. Apprehensively, he waited for her to spew forth her hatred but she dropped back and closed her eyes. Not giving up, he was sure, but biding her time. Until she had proof.
Don Alfonso kissed his daughter and released her. "I think you might also offer a kiss to the brave man you are to marry," he said.
Esperanza smiled and stepped across to Ulysses, holding up her face to him. He meant to merely brush her lips but the realization that this would be the last time he'd dare touch her made him wrap his arms around her and kiss her deeply. He let her go reluctantly.
Everything he'd thought within his reach was not for him. He didn't dare remain at the rancho, much less marry Esperanza. He'd seen for himself how horribly those near him died when he became a beast. He must get away, far away from everything human. Even now, with the moon not quite full,
he could barely control his longing to step into the courtyard and bathe in its silvery light.
And change.
With the moon at full, he'd be doomed, forced to shift into a beast. He grimaced, remembering that his wedding had been planned for the following full moon. Thank God he'd learned what he was in time to save Esperanza.
"I'll spend the rest of the night on the balcony, keeping watch," Don Alfonso said as they left Esperanza. "Sleep, if you can. In the morning you and Don Rafael will dig a pit for the Americanos' grave while I make arrangements for Juan to be buried from the church."
Ulysses nodded. He didn't dare try to leave until morning for fear of the moon. The least he could do is stay long enough to help bury the men he'd killed. He could slip away afterward and be far from the hacienda by moonrise.
Shut inside his room, he sat on the bed. Sleep? Would he ever sleep again? A yawn caught him by surprise. God, but he was tired. Was it because of the shifting? He hunched his shoulders, filled with desperation and disgust.
A monster, he was a monster.
As those on the ship must have discovered. He still couldn't remember what had happened but he no longer blamed the sailors who'd beaten him and thrown him overboard. He could almost see it happening--a ship, a full moon, no place for the shifted beast to hide and no place for prey to escape the beast. He covered his face with his hands, wishing they'd killed him.
Apparently he was hard to kill. In the darkness, Ulysses glanced toward the chest where his Colt lay, the pistol taken by the don from the first of the beast's victims. Or had that man been the first? He groaned.
He ought to pick up the gun, put the barrel to his temple and pull the trigger.
No! His teeth drew back over his lips in a silent snarl. Monster or not, he wanted to live, though only God knew why.
If there was a God for such as he.
Recalling how quickly he healed, he wondered if he might not survive even a bullet to his brain. Who knew? He didn't mean to try and find the answer.
If he understood where he came from, if he remembered his past, mayb
e he'd have some idea of how to prevent the shifting. And maybe not. All he do was to get as far away from other people as possible and try to survive the best he could.
He groaned at the thought of leaving the Alvarado rancho. He'd respected and admired Don Alfonso from the first. The don needed him here, needed his help to run the rancho. He'd feel hurt and betrayed when Ulysses deserted him without so much as an adios. Esperanza--Ulysses shook his head. He couldn't bear to think about her.
With him gone, at least they'd be safe from the beast-- he'd have that to comfort him. But what would Esperanza have to comfort her?
Feeling trapped in his small, dark room, he fought the urge to rush into the moonlight. He flung himself backwards onto the bed and closed his eyes, determined not to dwell on the agony of leaving in the morning. You have to live with the beast, he told himself, so you might as well start getting used to the idea.
A shudder of revulsion shook him. How could a man grow used to such an abomination?
He gritted his teeth. If he wished to go on living, he'd have to try. To start with--what had he learned about himself?
The moon was his enemy. Moonlight triggered the shifting and, the nearer full the moon, the harder for him to control the change. Under a full moon, probably impossible. But if the moon were hidden by clouds or fog, he could resist successfully.
He sensed the life energies of others, that reddish glow surrounding each human and animal. In some, like the bruja and her cat, the energy flared and crackled blue. Why? Because they had unusual powers? Would his own life force show a similar difference from normal humans?
He'd do well to steer clear of humans with blue energy lest, like the bruja, they knew what he was. He couldn't be certain if all cats had Sombrita's ability but it didn't matter. Cats weren't the danger humans were.
Except for cats, he could handle animals better than
the humans he'd met. At least while he remained a man.
Palo had thrown him and bolted for home when he started to shift, so even animals he knew well feared him in his beast form.