Jean-Chastel stood there motionlessly in the open doorway as Charlie moved to position himself directly in front of him. Charlie couldn’t help but notice the exceptionally-endowed Chastel was not circumcised.
Before Charlie could think of what to ask or even say, Chastel said, “So, Charlie Redtail, you think you’re going to what, arrest me? You think your pitiful jail can hold Jean-Chastel, do you?”
Chastel laughed maniacally as he began to change. Charlie couldn’t say a word. He was beyond terrified and nearly hypnotized by what was happening right before his eyes.
Jean-Chastel began to quiver and shake. His stomach began convulsing and undulating in a way that was beyond any grand mal seizure. Hair began springing up and out of his every pore. Every muscle and bone in Chastel’s body began pulsating, growing, altering. Changing into something else. Humanoid, but not human.
Chastel’s jaw began elongating. Charlie could hear its bones, cartilage, muscles, and tendons pop and creak as the transformation took over. Its nose and jaw became that of an enormous canine. Its bloody teeth began falling out of its mouth as they were replaced by protruding fangs. Its fangs continued to grow and grow as the monster retracted its lips, snarling and growling in rage. Its eyes no longer resembled human eyes. They had become yellow, translucent, mirror-like orbs with garnet-red, blood-filled veins. The fingers of its hands rapidly transformed into long, spindly protrusions that supported claws that were like massive, dark spikes. Its ears enlarged ten times over as they grew to points. Thick, dark, bristly hair covered its entire body. Chastel continued to morph and enlarge into a beast that stood over seven feet tall. It then rose up onto the balls of its humanoid feet making it even appear larger. Then its last recognizable aspect of humanity transformed to become enormous paws with massive pads like that of a giant wolf.
Charlie fired a shot from his rifle. The splatter-point bullet struck with tremendous force in the center of the creature’s chest. The impact knocked the monster backward a couple feet. Blood spewed from the wound, some of which splattered across Charlie’s face. But to Charlie’s utter horror, beyond that, there was little if no other effect. The massive beast let out a blood-curdling howl as it stepped forward and grabbed Charlie’s rifle by the barrel and ripped it from his grasp, tossing it aside.
Ian heard the shot. Without hesitation, he came running from the backside of the cabin to its front. Within seconds, Ian spotted for himself the horrific spectacle that was unfolding at the cabin’s front door.
The creature lashed out at Charlie. With one swipe from its massive right claw, the beast sent Charlie flying backward six feet, where he landed on his back. There was blood pouring through the long gashes in the front of Charlie’s shredded camouflage shirt. Ian was momentarily frozen with fear seeing Charlie lying there completely sprawled out, nearly unconscious from a single blow from the monster.
Realizing that Charlie was all but done in, Ian drew upon some internal strength that he’d never known he possessed. In one deft motion, he turned towards the beast, aiming his pistol dead on at the creature’s head and shouted, “Jean-Chastel. Jean-Chastel of Gevaudan, France, slayer of the Beast of Gevaudan, I know who … I know what you are. My … my gun is loaded with silver bullets!”
Before Ian could utter another word or squeeze off a round, the beast leaped ten feet from where it had stood. Upon landing, it started running incredibly fast as a biped, but then it bent forward onto its front claws. As a quadruped, it instantly accelerated to a gallop that would have overtaken even the swiftest racehorse. The massive beast crossed the clearing in seconds then disappeared into the dense forest.
Ian began running towards Charlie, but before he reached him, Charlie managed to get back up onto his feet. With Ian’s help, Charlie managed to remove his shirt. Ian was glad to see that the bleeding made the wounds appear to be much worse than they actually were. Fortunately for Charlie, his puncture-resistant Kevlar hunting shirt had offered some protection from the deadly swipe he’d taken from the beast’s razor-sharp claws. Charlie took the remains of his shredded shirt and tied some large pieces together and then wrapped and tied the rags around his wounds, barely showing his pain.
Charlie walked over to his rifle and picked it up, then looked back over at Ian. Charlie almost sounded in good humor when he spoke. “Well, you don’t need to say I told you so!”
Ian could not believe his ears. He shook his head in utter amazement. “Charlie, out back, there’s a shed that’s filled with bones and what looks like some of what’s left of … Bud …”
Charlie didn’t act or sound surprised when he replied, “That figures. He shut down his den back at the falls. Probably removed anything he kept there. Too many people know about it. Too many of us have left our scents there. He’s gonna find him a new den. Probably just keeping the remains here till he does. He surely never counted on anyone figuring him to be a … okay, I’ll say it. A werewolf! Hey, which way did it head, anyway?”
Suddenly, Ian processed that the direction the beast had raced off was down the mountain. Down towards …
“Marsha!” Ian shouted as both men looked at each other in horror, then began rushing towards the trail to the falls as fast as they could move.
Chapter 37
Vanity
“Tom, are you ready? Are we ready to shoot?”
Tom Iverson nodded and gave Marsha a big thumbs up. He expertly held the television camera with one hand as he balanced it on his shoulder, then called out, “Ready? Three, two, one, go!”
“This is on-the-spot investigative reporter Marsha Steward coming to you from Little Merwin Lake, Harmony Falls, Washington. This is the location where just two days ago the bodies of Roger and Stephanie Warner, formerly of Bellevue, Washington, were discovered in a cave located behind the falls approximately two hundred yards from this very spot. We are waiting at this parking area to hear any new developments from local law enforcement, which are here canvassing the area for reasons we as yet do not know. We are here set up to hopefully get an on-the-spot interview with them upon their return to their car, which is parked in this very lot, and has become their temporary base of operations. This is Marsha Steward for KATW Channel Thirteen News reporting to you from Little Merwin Lake, Washington.”
Tom removed the small television camera from his shoulder. He switched off the camera’s light and set the camera back into the van to light a cigarette.
Marsha looked at him with some disgust.
“Okay, we’ll do a couple more takes in a few minutes. That is, of course, once you’ve finished with your smoke break.”
Tom rolled his eyes. “Marsha, exactly what do you think we’re gonna accomplish up here in the middle of the forest in the dark? I don’t want to end up on the menu of some bear or whatever ate those hikers, if you get my drift!”
“Tom, just finish your damn cigarette, and next time, try and keep the camera steady!”
“Sorry! My hands were a little shaky only ‘cause it’s fucking freezing up here!”
Marsha looked at Tom and shook her head with disdain. “It’s bad attitudes like that, lack of cooperation from support people like yourself that keep me from moving to a larger market like L.A. or New York. Now come on; let’s do this thing at least a couple more times. And this next time, please keep the camera at tight close-up on my face. Stop focusing on my boobs!”
Tom tossed his half-smoked cigarette onto the ground, grabbed the camera from the van and switched on its light. They both moved over to their previously designated marks.
“Okay, once again from the top. Ready? Three, two, one, go.”
Tom did what he always did. He momentarily closed both his eyes to relax them before re-opening the one that looked into the viewfinder. But this time, when he re-opened his eye, there was nothing to view. No Marsha Steward.
It had happened so fast, there’d been no sound. She had been decapitated with one powerful swipe from the beast.
Tom opened both eyes and
looked up from the camera. Marsha’s headless body stood there directly in front of him. He hadn’t seen her in the viewfinder because, as instructed, he was focused in close and tight on her face.
“Fuck! Fuck me! Fuck me!” Tom screamed at the top of his lungs.
Marsha’s body finally collapsed slowly then fell to the ground like a melting ice sculpture.
It was then that Tom saw what had lopped his boss’s head from her shoulders. He tried with all his might to scream once again, but no sound came. He leaped into the van’s side slide-open door, quickly slamming the door closed and locking it. Tom fell twice inside the van as he scrambled to lock the driver and passenger doors. He lunged to the very back of the van and locked the back doors.
Then it began. It started with the deafening, horrible scratching sound of claws on metal. Like fingernails on a blackboard but a thousand times louder. The van began rocking violently but only for a moment. Tom was traumatized to the point of catatonic delirium. The beast began smashing into the van, creating enormous dents into its thin metal siding with every smashing blow. The sliding door buckled. Windows shattered. Another strike and it would be all over. It would have him. But just when Tom had almost blacked out from terror, the attack on the van stopped as abruptly as it had begun.
Tom heard Ian yelling out Marsha’s name. Charlie and Ian were running towards the van as fast as their winded bodies would carry them.
When they drew close, they could see the devastation inflicted on the van. Then they saw Marsha’s body and her head, which had rolled over next to Charlie’s car.
Ian was the first to reach Marsha’s body. Under any other circumstances throughout his life he would have lost his lunch, but he’d seen so much since his arrival in Harmony Falls that though he was shocked and appalled by what lay at his feet, he didn’t feel sickened by the sight.
Charlie reached Ian a couple of seconds later. He shone his flashlight through the spider-webbed front window and spotted Tom Iverson curled up, rocking back and forth in the fetal position. The look on his face was of someone who fit the cliché of having seen the proverbial ghost. Only both Charlie and Ian knew what Tom had actually seen was much, much worse.
Charlie and Ian were able, though with considerable difficulty, to get the heavily-smashed-in sliding door open far enough to literally drag Tom from the van. Charlie asked Tom to describe what had happened, but Tom either wouldn’t or couldn’t utter a word.
Charlie had Ian open the trunk of his car and get a blanket out. Ian wrapped the blanket around Tom, who was in deep shock, then Ian tucked Tom’s head down and managed to guide him into the back seat. Without a second’s hesitation, Charlie and Ian got in the car. Charlie fired it up and spun a ninety degree power-turn, his tires spinning and throwing gravel and dirt. Once headed down the dirt road that led to the main road below, Charlie accelerated to more than fifty miles an hour. They bounced around violently as they bounded over the heavily pot-holed logging road but Charlie didn’t let off the gas. All four tires were squealing as he turned right onto the main road. Charlie then switched on his cop lights and promptly further accelerated to better than eighty.
Ian finally broke the silence.
“Charlie, sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I should be driving. You’re in no condition …”
Charlie glanced over at Ian for a second. He began to cough and said, “Nobody drives this baby but me.” The two of them managed small laughs. Charlie coughed a couple more times, and a small amount of blood collected in the corner of his mouth. Tasting it, Charlie checked himself in the rearview mirror and saw the blood.
Ian was oblivious and turned to check on Tom, who was still silent. He sat there in the back seat, rocking forward and backward as he stared straight ahead with unfocused eyes. Ian turned back towards Charlie.
“Charlie … Cameraman Tom, he don’t look too good. I think Elvis has left the building, if you get my drift.”
Charlie said, “Yeah, seeing … Going through what he did, his boss wasn’t the only one to lose their head.” Ian bowed his head. Tears began to well up in the corners of his eyes. “Anyhow, Doc’s gonna be pissed about being woke up again. But I guess I better get our camera guy looked at.”
Ian replied, “Yeah, it would be a good idea to get yourself checked out as well. Get them cuts properly sterilized and bandaged up.”
Charlie shook his head. He then felt compelled to ask a question that he figured Ian could answer as well as any man except maybe his grandfather or Jean-Chastel himself. “I guess what we seen tonight fits the bill that Chastel is what you would call … well, hell, anyone who’d seen what we did would call him a werewolf. A real monster! The stuff we been told all our lives is nothing but superstitious nonsense. That said, what I remember from movies I used to watch as a kid about such things … Don’t you got to be bitten by a werewolf and live to become one? I mean, I don’t have to worry about these here scratches, do I?”
That very thought had already crossed Ian’s mind. He thought hard for a moment before answering. “Charlie, my guess is nobody except maybe Jean-Chastel could answer that with absolute certainty. But so far, it seems most of what we’ve seen seems to fit within most of the common legends and beliefs about the subject. So I’m gonna go out on a limb and say I doubt if you can be infected without being either bitten or maybe direct blood transfer. The infection, if you can call it that, I think it transmits through saliva or blood. I really think you’re okay!”
Ian looked over at Charlie, and in an attempt to effect additional reassurance winked at him. But the truth was Ian really had no idea. Charlie’s guess was as good as his. Ian spoke back up, “Charlie, I think we should let Doc Matthews in on all of this. He may be able to shed some light from a scientific point of view. And he might be able to lend some idea as to how you should deal with Bud’s head so you don’t spend your next twenty Christmases in Walla Walla, if you get my meaning!”
Charlie sighed but then nodded his head in agreement.
They were getting close to town before Ian shared another thought.
“Say Charlie, if you can hold on for a few more minutes before we go to see Doc Matthews, swing by my campsite. I’ve got a drawing pad and some colored pencils in my trailer. I want to sketch, well, best I can while the image is fresh what I—what we—saw. Sort of map out the look of the thing to show Doc.”
Charlie once again nodded. “Yeah, Ian, that’s a good idea; I mean, if you can draw?”
Ian paused before answering, “Well, I’m no Michelangelo, but I can draw a little. You know, I had some art in high school. It comes in handy in my line of work. Drawing a little, that is.”
The three men drove into Harmony Falls township. Charlie did as Ian asked and first drove Ian to his trailer. Ian jumped out of the car and was back in less than a minute with a sketch pad and a box of colored pencils in hand.
Charlie then drove the short distance to Doc Matthews’. Charlie and Ian climbed out of the car and together they managed to get Tom out of the back seat and onto his feet. He still hadn’t said a word since they’d found him.
Charlie and Ian helped Tom along by keeping their hands under his armpits to steady him a bit. The three men walked up to Doc’s office front door where Charlie pushed the button on the intercom.
Doc Matthews answered in a few seconds in irritation, “Who is it? What do you want?”
“Doc, it’s me, Charlie. Hey, I got a man in deep shock down here. And well, I guess I could use some looking at myself.”
There was no response. But not one minute passed before the front door opened. Doc Matthews stood there in pajamas, robe, and slippers.
“Well, don’t just stand there. Get on in here and let’s have a look. Come on now, cold as hell out tonight. I can’t heat the whole damn town!” The three men walked in. Charlie and Ian continued to support and steady Tom.
Doc Matthews took one look at Charlie, who stood there bleeding through his make-shift bandaged chest.
Charlie said, “Doc, this here’s a big city television cameraman. His name’s Tom Iverson. His boss-lady got killed tonight right in front of him. He’s in shock or something.”
Doc Matthews looked at Charlie in disgust.
“Oh really? Shock? Is that your considered medical opinion? Well regardless, he’s gonna be okay. You, I’m not so certain.”
Doc Matthews began unwinding the makeshift bandages from Charlie. Once removed, he looked closely at the wounds.
“Well, aside from getting some disinfectant on these here cuts, they look like they’ll be okay once bandaged up proper. But that’s not what’s got me concerned. It’s this purple-blue and yellow bruising around your side right here.” Doc Matthews lightly touched Charlie’s ribs. Charlie flinched from sudden pain.
“Charlie, follow me to the room in the back. I got an X-ray machine back there. We’re gonna get a picture to know for sure, but I’ll bet dollars to doughnuts you got at least one if not a couple broken ribs. Maybe by the look of your eyes you even got a little internal bleeding going on. But your breathing seems pretty good. Too deep and regular to be a punctured or collapsed lung I should think.”
Doc Matthews and Charlie went back to the small X-ray room. Tom Iverson had lain down on an exam table. Ian kept periodically looking over, checking on him. He was both unnerved and concerned; Tom eerily resembled a rigor mortis-stiffened cadaver with lips drawn tight as a drum. And his eyes … Ian couldn’t help notice that Tom’s eyes never seemed to blink.
Between occasionally checking on Tom, Ian continued working on his sketch.
After what had become a solid hour of power-sketching between periodic glances over at Tom, Ian completed his rendering of the most terrifying thing he’d ever seen.
Ian mused as he gazed at his completed sketch, I never claimed to be an artist. This is no prize-winner, but essentially, this is what it looked like to me!
Loup-Garou: The Beast of Harmony Falls (The Ian McDermott, Ph.D., Paranormal Investigator Series Book 1) Page 15