Nobody had believed it and his whole crew had walked off. He'd had to find another crew. That crew hadn't even lasted a month. Three men had been attacked that time, when they'd decided to walk down to a nearby creek to do a little fishing. One had been killed outright. A second had been slashed up pretty badly. The third had managed to get away almost completely unscathed, but they'd been so terrorized by their experience that they had been impossible to silence. Word had gotten out and the second crew departed.
Colson admitted that he had a hard time believing the survivors, who'd claimed it was a werewolf, but he was convinced of one thing: Somebody was determined to see to it that he didn't complete construction on the new resort.
Chapter Two
There were some guys a woman could say, or do, pretty much anything to, and as long as they got a piece of ass, they'd go away happy.... And then there were some guys that it was down right dangerous even to consider messing around with. To Skelley's mind, Chief Blackhawk fell into the last category. Within ten minutes of meeting him, she had formed the nasty suspicion that he was also one of those cocky, alpha males that clung to the purely male fantasy that a man could fuck the meanness out of any woman if he was good enough.
She wasn't completely convinced he couldn't.
Her initial plan, before she'd had the opportunity to actually meet him in the flesh, had been to fuck his brains out and, while his brains were still putty in her hands, extract whatever information she needed to complete her investigation. In general, it would've been a plan with merit. The fact was, the male fantasy had arisen out of man's tendency to judge others by themselves. They knew they turned to a mindless mound of jelly when they got their rocks off and figured it worked both ways—which, unfortunately for them, it rarely did. Men, in general, were far easier to tame with a good fuck than women were.
There were always exceptions to every rule, of course, and unfortunately, Skelley was pretty certain Chief Blackhawk was one of them. She decided her first plan might be a little more tricky, a little more dangerous, and a lot less effective, than she'd originally thought.
It was unfortunate, because she hadn't formed plan two, and she wasn't happy about winging it ... particularly since Chief Blackhawk had a way of clouding her mind with lustful thoughts whenever he entered her personal space, which he did at every opportunity.
The move to the lodge went smoothly enough. It was an old lodge. It had been built almost a hundred years earlier, but there was nothing run down or faded about it. It had a quaint coziness about it that gave it a ‘homey’ sort of atmosphere and the added charm of the conception of luxury from a time of prosperity. The room Skelley was led to was more along the lines of an effeinceny apartment than a hotel room. The size of a large suite at a high dollar hotel, it boasted a fireplace of its very own, a good sized sitting area, a kitchenette complete with microwave and bar, and a sleeping area cordoned off by a couple of large, free standing privacy screens.
There was a bearskin rug in front of the fireplace.
Skelley nudged the head a couple of times, decided it was the hide of a real dead bear, not a clever imitation, and pushed the grimacing head so that it was facing the wall. The glass eyes, frankly, gave her the creeps and, since the bed faced the fireplace, she didn't care for the idea of sitting up in bed and finding two yellow eyes looking back at her.
The bathroom was the only thing that wasn't luxurious. The lodge predated both closets and indoor bathrooms. It had been moderized during a time when people were just getting used to the idea of having indoor plumbing, and didn't expect to have their own, private bath.
The bathroom was down the hall.
She supposed, since there were no closets, putting baths in each suite would have been a major renovation project, but she wasn't thrilled about the idea of having to traipse down the hall every time she needed to go.
There were a few things that made it tolerable. She didn't plan to be there long. The wing she'd been assigned to appeared to be otherwise unoccupied, and her room was only a couple of doors down from the bath.
Once she'd dropped her suitcase off in her room, she prowled the lodge, exploring. It was a three story building, but the whole third floor had been closed off and access blocked. She was naturally curious to know what was up there, if anything, but thought it safer to leave exploration for another time.
She'd been situated on the second floor. The first would have been a hell of a lot more convenient for nocturnal excursions, but the desk clerk had indicated the offer for the room was firm. The floor below her, as far as she could tell, only had two or three rooms occupied, but she supposed it was logical to conclude that the owner would prefer to keep all of the most convenient rooms open to potential guests.
She would've had to cross the great room cum lobby in the center of the lodge to check out the opposite wing. Since she couldn't think of a convincing lie to tell if she was stopped, she decided it wasn't important enough to risk getting caught. She opted instead to go for a walk and familiarize herself with the town.
There wasn't much to see beyond the typical tourist gift shops up and down the main drag, a handful of fast-food restaurants, a couple of diners, gas stations and so forth. She found a small supermarket just off the main drag and made a mental note of it. It would be a good place to buy microwaveable meals, but she didn't want to load herself down with bags until she'd canvased the town.
She found a small mom and pop neighborhood grocery a few blocks down from its modern counterpart and went in. A fresh faced teen was manning the register. It wasn't very promising, but she decided to have a go at it.
Teens, city kids anyway, had a tendency to be close lipped, sullen and suspicious of anybody over twenty. Those who didn't fall into that category were either vacuous, their minds on nothing but sex, drugs and rock and roll—or rap—or too shy to talk to anybody.
She wandered up and down the aisles, casting a glance toward the kid at the register occasionally. The teen had headphones on and was tapping out a beat on the counter top with a pencil. She could've walked off with half the store without him being any the wiser.
Shrugging mentally, she grabbed a small bag of chips and a bottle of water and made her way to the counter. To her surprise, he snatched the headphones off and dropped the pencil when she approached the counter. She decided the scouting expedition might not be a total loss after all and smiled her friendliest smile.
He blushed, grabbed her purchase and punched it in, then gave her the total.
She handed him a bill and leaned against the counter.
His gaze zeroed in on her overflowing breasts and he went into a frozen state of catatonia. His jaw dropped, his eyes glazed over and the hand holding the bill stilled in midair. Diana placed a hand over her cleveage, not out of any belated sense of modesty, but because she could see she wasn't going to get any information out of the kid in his current state.
He blinked. Blood rushed into his face in a hot tide that made him break a sweat.
She pretended she hadn't noticed. “I was wondering if you happened to know of any apartments around here for rent?"
He stammered for a full two minutes and finally managed to say he hadn't a clue.
Diana didn't doubt it, but she decided to pursue her quest for a little longer before giving up on it. “You new around here too?"
"N..no. I've lived here all my life."
She nodded. Fourteen or fifteen years, at least. “Well, do you know of any apartment complexes where there might be a vacancy?"
He frowned, thought hard for several minutes and finally told her, somewhat doubtfully, that there was one on the south end of town, but he didn't think it was the sort of place she would want to stay in.
"Why's that?"
He shrugged. “Bad part of town."
She wouldn't have thought the place was big enough to have one, but she supposed if it had over a hundred residents a town was big enough. “A lot of crime, huh?"
Again
he shrugged. “There's a bar close to it. They have at least a couple of knifings and two or three shootings a year."
"Sounds like a real hopping place,” Diana said dryly. “You wouldn't think it to look at the place. Seems like a nice, quiet town."
"If ya mean boring, yeah, it is. Most of the time, anyway. They're building a new lodge not far from here though. Bet things'll start changin’ real fast around here once it's done.... If they get it built, that is."
"You mean somebody's thinking about building a new lodge? I wouldn't get too excited about that. Just because they're thinking about it doesn't mean they will."
He shook his head and leaned on the counter, speaking in a confidential tone. “Already started it, but they've been havin’ a hard time keepin’ anybody workin’ on it."
"Really?” Diana didn't have to feign interest. “Why's that?"
He colored, laughed a little uncomfortably. “I heard the guys from there was spooked by something. Actually, a couple got killed. One of the guys, though, was swearin’ it was a werewolf."
Diana gave him a skeptical look. “Werewolves, huh? You have them up here?"
He turned a little redder. “Everybody around here figures it was just a rogue bear or somethin’ like that. Figure it just scared the guy stupid. We got legends, though."
"Really? Werewolf legends? I've always been fascinated by old legends like that."
He grinned. “Me too. Actually, it ain't really werewolves if you wanna be technical about it. It's Indian legends."
Diana frowned. “You mean like the Windigo? That was an elemental spirit, though, wasn't it?"
"Yeah, but the tribal Shaman was supposed to have the ability to change himself into all kinds of animals.” He stopped, frowned, thinking about it. “Not change, exactly. It was somethin’ about bein’ able to leave their bodies. As their spirit self they could do all sorts of things, like go into the bodies of animals and take over, kinda like the Body Snatchers, you know. Sometimes it would be a wolf, but it could be an owl, or bear, or a panther ... pretty much anything, I guess. And their descendants supposedly have the power sometimes too."
"So, maybe it was one of these Shaman's descendants that scared off the workers, huh?"
He shrugged. “It's just legend. But from what I heard, the lodge is right on an ancient burial ground. Creeps me out just thinking about staying in a place built over a graveyard. Maybe the workers just got spooked because they found out about it and when some wild animal got after ‘em they figured it was the spirits, or somethin'?"
Diana smiled, agreed, took her purchases and departed. The boy had been a fount of information, most of it pretty useless. She was curious to know, however, whether Colson was aware that the site he'd chosen was on scared ground.
It put another slant on the situation, that was for sure, and could give them a number of new suspects.
Of course, Blackhawk was Indian, too. He could as easily be miffed about the encroachment on ancestral burial grounds as he was about the competition of having another lodge.
"Shades of Poltergeist,” she murmured as she made her way back to the supermarket, purchased a few things and returned to the lodge. It was Sunday. Most of the gift shops were closed and she didn't think she'd get much of a chance to chat with the cashiers at the grocery store or the fast food restaurants.
A public library might be useful, but she hadn't seen one. She was fairly certain asking around would raise a few eyebrows and possibly suspicions. It didn't seem to fit the image she'd adopted for the assignment. She'd already decided to visit the court house the next day and see what she could dig up in old records, though. If she drove, she could wander around and see for herself if they had a library.
Of course, digging around in old records might raise a few eyebrows, too, but she had a cover story ready for that. She was going to be doing a little family history research for her grandmother.
* * * *
It never failed to amaze Diana how dark it could be in the country at night. The construction site was less than a mile from the edge of town, but the city lights didn't penetrate that far, even to assisting with a faint glow. The sky was clear, which lent just enough light to make out deeper shadows and larger objects, but the moon wasn't much more than a fingernail shaving in the sky. Diana had walked, so her vision had had plenty of time to adjust to maximum night vision by the time she reached the site.
She didn't particularly care for taking a stroll down dark country lanes so late at night, but she figured she could use the exercise and she didn't want to chance anybody spotting her rental car parked near the construction site. She figured, if anyone did notice her, that she could claim to be out jogging. They'd think she was crazy, of course, to jog at 1:00 AM, but she was a city girl. Country people were as prone to thinking city people were weird as vice versa. They might just buy it.
Any way she looked at it, it seemed to be the easiest thing to explain away ... if she was spotted. Walking had the added benefit of making it easier to spot trouble before it got to her and take cover.
There was no sign of either Mullein or his car when she reached the site. She pushed her jacket sleeve up and looked at her night glow watch. She was a few minutes early. He either hadn't arrived yet, or he had left his car as she had and was wandering around the site. She decided to check the place out to see if he was inside the partially completed building.
Much of it, she saw, was nothing more than skeleton frame work, but part of one wing had been covered over with styrofoam insulation board and the roof looked to be mostly completed.
She climbed up onto the slab floor, dusted herself off and looked around. “Muellin?” she called out in a loud stage whisper. Sound carried well, and carried far in the country. She didn't dare speak much above a whisper.
She hesitated long enough to listen to see if he called back. She heard nothing but the eerie sigh of the wind blowing between the steel framework.
She was sorry she hadn't brought a flash light. She had decided, though, that it would be too easy to spot, and too tempting to use if she had it. At any rate, there was no roof over the wing she'd entered. She could see as well inside as she'd been able to see outside.
There was no sign of Muellin. She checked her watch again and saw that it was dead on 1:00 AM when she'd walked the length of the wing. She hadn't heard, or seen, any sign of a car. Maybe he was waiting in the other wing?
She stared at the dark ‘cave’ for several moments. That wing had a partial roof on it, and was closed in besides by the insulation board. She wondered if there was really any point in checking it out. Surely Muellin would have heard her if he'd been waiting inside?
The only way to be sure would be to check it out. After a moment's hesitation, she made her way carefully to the dark opening and peered inside. It was just as dark up close as it had appeared when she'd looked at it from across the way. “Muellin?"
There was still no answer. Deciding he would certainly have heard her if he'd been in that part of the building, Diana turned to leave. As she did so she heard a quick step behind her. Before she could react, something, or someone, grasped her arm, snatching her into the darkened interior of the building and shoving her roughly against the wall. Diana's reaction was immediate and driven purely by instinct. Lifting her foot, she stomped down on her assailant's instep as hard as she could. When he let out a yelp and bent over instinctively to look down at the injury, she slammed the back of her head into his face.
She was released abruptly. She whirled, drawing back her right arm to throw
her whole body into a power punch.
"Wait! It's me, Skelley!"
Diana stopped her swing with an effort. “Muellin?"
"Yeah. Shit! I think you broke my foot ... maybe my doze too."
"Damn it, Muellin! What the hell did you do that for?"
Sly limped out of the building and sat down on the edge of the floor slab, holding his nose with one hand and massaging his foot with the ot
her. Diana trailed after him, staring down at his bent head. “You OK?"
He sent her a resentful glare. “Dowe. My doze is bweeding."
Diana sat beside him. “Here, let me have a look."
"Doe."
Diana searched her pockets, but she knew very well she had nothing to stop the bleeding. “You have a handkerchief?"
"Doe."
"Well, here, lie back then,” she said, placing a hand in the middle of his back to help him. “That's supposed to help, I think, tilting your head back."
He threw a glance behind him to make sure there was nothing on the floor and lay back. He'd pulled the tail of his shirt up and was dabbing it at his nose. She leaned over him, frowning worriedly. “Better?"
"Dot much. Hurts like hell."
Diana brushed the hair from his forehead. “Poor baby. I'm so sorry. I didn't know it was you. Why did you grab me like that?"
He rolled his eyes. “Dupidity, I guess."
"How's the foot?"
"Hurt's like hell."
"Is there anything I can do?"
"Besides what you already did, you mean? Doe thank you."
Diana sat back, realizing there wasn't really anything she could do except give him a few minutes to collect himself. “Why didn't you answer me when I called out to you?"
"Because I was hiding."
"Why?"
He sat up. His nose had stopped bleeding, but it still throbbed like a son-of-a-bitch. Just the same, he figured it was time to distract her. He wasn't about to tell her he'd had this really stupid idea of giving her a little scare, just for shits and giggles, and maybe copping a little feel while he was at it. It was humiliating enough that she'd clobbered him. “I thought I heard something,” he lied.
"Really? Did you check it out? Maybe we should check before we go any further here?"
"I checked it out. I think it was a couple of racoons or possums."
The Howling Page 2