Dr. Volkmann received the women graciously and showed them into the sitting room of his big old house. The influence of his late wife could still be seen in touches like the lace antimacassars on the backs of chairs, and the little animal figurines carefully arranged, but undusted now, on corner shelves.
"You're looking well, Mrs. Beatty," the doctor said. "Did you use all of the pills I gave you?"
"No, I don't think I need any more of them."
"That's good. Too much reliance on pills can be dangerous." He folded his hands and waited politely.
"What we came for is… well, I'd like to ask you a question, Doctor."
"Certainly."
"Did anyone come to you last night or today for treatment of a head wound?"
"Etienne Jolivet in particular," Inez added.
Volkmann studied the women for several seconds before he spoke. "That's an odd question. Do you mind telling me what's behind it?"
"Believe me," Karyn said, "it's very important."
"I can see that it is. The answer is no, I have not treated anyone for head wounds in the past forty-eight hours. I have not treated Etienne Jolivet for anything in more than three years."
Karyn's face reflected her disappointment.
"Now do you suppose I could have an explanation?"
The women's eyes met, and they made a decision.
I'll tell you, Doctor," Karyn said, "but you might not believe it."
"Let's hear it, anyway," said Volkmann. His voice was deep and serious and reassuring.
Karyn told him the whole story, beginning with the first time she had heard the howling, and ending with the visit a few minutes before to the Jolivets' store. When Karyn was through, Inez told him about the clippings she had saved detailing strange happenings in and around Drago over the years.
Dr. Volkmann listened intently, and did not interrupt. When the women had finished their story he sat silently, studying them.
"So when you heard of Etienne Jolivet's headache," he said finally, "you felt it might be the result of the gunshot wound inflicted on the wolf last night."
Karyn nodded, not meeting Volkmann's eye. It all seemed so farfetched when put into words by someone else.
"I am afraid you settled your suspicions on the wrong man. Etienne has suffered all his life from migraine headaches, just as Oriole told you."
"And there was nobody else with a head injury of any kind?"
"No one came to me, at any rate."
Karyn's shoulders slumped. "What do you think, Doctor? Am I crazy? Are we a couple of hysterical women? Was it all a dream?"
Again Volkmann took his time in answering. "I have lived here in Drago for ten years. I have lived quietly, and have had ample opportunity to observe the town and its people. During those ten years I have noted a number of strange occurrences. Some of them, Miss Polk, were those that you mentioned. People have died and disappeared in this valley with no reasonable explanation ever given. I must confess that I closed my eyes to a number of… irregularities that I might have questioned had I been a more involved man. But I was wrapped up in my own affairs. It is, of course, possible that there is something fearfully wrong here."
Inez spoke up. "And what do you think, Doctor, of the idea that it is a werewolf?"
Volkmann's expression remained grave. "As a man of science I am not willing to admit to the existence of something so far outside the laws of nature. However, as a man who has seen more than the normal share of inexplicable happenings, I cannot deny the possibility. Yes, Miss Polk, there may be a werewolf."
"Thank God you believe us," Karyn said.
Volkmann held up a cautioning hand. "This does not mean I am ready to join you in an all-out hunt for the alleged werewolf. I still have serious reservations. I will do what I can, though, to assist you in gathering information. You may call on me at any time."
"Thank you, Doctor," said Inez. "I can't tell you how much it means to have someone else on our side."
Dr. Volkmann walked them to the door. "Have you spoken to anyone else about this?" he asked.
"No," Karyn said. "Only you."
"I think it would be wise to keep it that way. At least until we have something more to go on."
"That's the way we felt too," Karyn said.
"Let me know if anything else happens. And one other thing, ladies…"
"Yes?"
"Be careful."
Karyn and Inez assured the doctor they would be most careful, and walked back to where they had left the car.
They got in, went through the ritual of buckling the seat belts and started home. As Inez reached Karyn's road, Karyn put a hand on her arm.
"Wait a minute. Can you drive back up the street the way we came?"
"Why?"
"I want you to take a look at the man standing back there under the theater marquee."
"The one with the hat?"
"Yes."
Inez backed around and drove slowly up the street. "Who is it?" she said as they approached the figure standing in the shadow of the marquee.
"Anton Gadak," Karyn said.
As they rolled past they could see a fresh white bandage covering the left side of Gadak's head.
Inez started to wheel the car around.
"Where are you going?" Karyn said.
"Back to the doctor's house. We should tell him about this."
"Let's wait," Karyn said.
"But why?"
"Who do you suppose applied that bandage?"
Chapter Seventeen
Inez braked the car to a stop in front of Karyn's house. She left the engine idling, and the women sat for a minute without speaking.
"I'm going to tell Roy," Karyn said. "I've got to."
"Yes, I suppose you do."
"It isn't going to be easy. He's always so level-headed and practical. I've got to try, though."
"I understand," Inez said.
Karyn smiled and gave the other woman's hand a squeeze. She left Inez waiting in the car and ran across the clearing to the house. She found Roy inside at the table. He was bent over a manuscript, making corrections with a red pencil.
"Roy, can I talk to you?"
"Is it important? I really want to finish these books tonight."
"It's important."
With a sigh Roy laid the pencil aside and shifted the chair around so he was facing her. "All right."
Karyn hesitated. Now that she had Roy's full attention, she felt foolish. She did not know where to start, how to convince him that she was deadly serious. She decided that to plunge right in was as good a way as any.
"Roy, do you know what a werewolf is?"
"Did you say werewolf?"
"Yes."
"A guy who turns into a wolf when the moon is full and runs around growling and eating people. Right?"
"Close."
"So what's the point?"
Karyn drew a deep breath. "I believe there is a werewolf in Drago."
"Oh, uh-huh. And this was important enough to interrupt my work?"
"I'm serious, damn you."
"All right, Karyn, let's hear the rest of it."
"I believe there is a werewolf in Drago. I believe the werewolf killed our dog, killed the two kids who came hiking through here the other day, and killed God knows how many others."
Roy was watching her, his face carefully expressionless.
"I believe the werewolf is Anton Gadak."
"Ah, Jesus, Karyn…"
"Listen to me. Last night I shot that huge wolf out in front of the house. You saw the blood, you found a piece of its ear. Today I saw Anton Gadak in town. He has a fresh bandage covering the left side of his head."
Roy stared incredulously. "And on the basis of that you have decided that Anton Gadak is a… a werewolf?"
"It's not only that, Roy. Through the years there have been lots of strange disappearances and unexplained deaths around Drago. Who would be in a better position to cover up what really happened than Gadak?"
"Wait a minute. What's all this about strange deaths and disappearances? You make this sound like the Bermuda Triangle."
"It's true. Inez Polk has clippings from local newspapers."
"I might have known."
"Roy, don't you hear what I'm telling you? Anton Gadak is a werewolf."
Roy jumped out of the chair and spread his arms. "What the hell do you want me to do? Go into town and drive a stake through his heart?"
"I want you to believe me, that's all."
"Those pills you've been taking…"
"I haven't had a pill in two days."
Roy searched her eyes, as though looking for signs of madness. Finally he said, "All right, Karyn, I'll tell you what we're going to do. We're going to get the hell out of here and go back to Los Angeles. That ought to satisfy you."
"Roy, I didn't mean — "
"You can start packing now. We'll leave tomorrow and move into a motel or something in L.A. until I can make other arrangements." He started out the door.
"Where are you going?"
"Into town to settle our bills. I want to get away as soon as possible."
Karyn stood in the center of the room feeling stunned as Roy slammed out of the house. She had handled it badly, but there was no justification for Roy's sudden anger. She had not expected him to instantly accept the idea, but she had counted on being able to discuss it with him. The thought of running back to Los Angeles now seemed wrong. It left an unpaid debt to Neal Edwards and Pam Sealander. And to nameless others who would follow.
Feeling numb and defeated, Karyn left the house and walked slowly across the small clearing to where Inez waited standing beside the car.
"I guess it didn't go too well," said Inez.
"It went badly," Karyn said.
"He didn't believe you?"
"He wouldn't even listen to me. He thinks I'm hallucinating. Could he be right, Inez? Is it possible there is something wrong with my mind?"
"There's nothing wrong with you, Karyn. If you're crazy, so am I."
"Roy might agree with that too."
"Very possibly. He didn't even look at me when he stormed out of the house. Where was he going, anyway?"
"Into town to pay our bills. We're going back to Los Angeles tomorrow."
"Oh?"
"I feel that I'm running out on you."
"Don't be silly. It might be the best thing for you."
For a moment the two women faced each other, then Inez put her arms around Karyn. They clung together like sisters.
"Take care of yourself," Inez said.
"You too."
A little self-consciously they moved apart. Inez put her hand on the car door handle.
"Well… goodbye," said Inez.
"Goodbye. We'll be in touch, won't we?"
"Of course."
Even as they spoke, Karyn could see in the other woman's eyes that neither of them believed it. After Drago they would never again see each other.
Inez got into her car and drove off down the road without looking back. Karyn went into the house and sat down to wait for Roy. Suddenly she was very tired.
Chapter Eighteen
When he was a hundred yards down the grassy road toward the village, Roy Beatty slowed down. His anger had melted away, and he was ashamed of the way he had spoken to Karyn. He reminded himself what she had been through, and that the only reason they came to this isolated valley was to help her. The last thing in the world he should be doing now was losing his temper and storming out of the house like some sulky adolescent.
But a werewolf! It had to be, Roy decided, Inez Polk who was putting such ideas into Karyn's head. He wished now that he had gone over to the car when he came out of the house and had it out with the woman. But at the time he had been too angry. All he wanted to do was get away.
Well, no, that was not quite right. His real reason for going to the village, he had to admit, was to see Marcia Lura one more time. He would have to tell Marcia he was leaving. It would not be easy, but it was impossible to simply go without seeing her again. His emotional bond to the green-eyed woman was too strong to allow that. Roy could not put a name to the emotion between him and Marcia. Not love, certainly, not in the sense that he loved Karyn. Lust was more accurate. Sheer physical attraction. Chemistry. And yet there was more to it than that. Marcia Lura had introduced him to sensual delights that were beyond anything he had experienced. Beyond anything he had imagined. No, it would not be easy to leave what he had found here.
Roy came to the main road that led into the village. As he turned and walked toward the gift shop he tried and rejected a number of opening remarks for what he must say to Marcia. There was no way to soften it.
In a way, he told himself, it was good that this business with Karyn had come up now. Eventually he would have had to break off with Marcia, and the longer he put it off, the more difficult it would be. Her hold on him would grow with every meeting. It was like a strange sweet sickness.
The village of Drago was bright and empty. Eddies of dust curled along the main street in the light breeze. The shadows of afternoon had barely begun to darken the valley. Roy turned at Marcia Lura's gift shop and pushed in through the door.
The bell over the door tinkled, an incongruously merry sound that did not match his mood. He peered around in the perpetually dim light of the shop.
Marcia came in through the curtains in the rear that separated the shop from her living quarters. She wore tight-fitting pants that hugged her thighs and belled out at the ankles. A striped blouse was open several buttons down, revealing an amulet on a gold chain that hung in the crevice between her breasts.
"Hello, Roy," she said. "I wasn't expecting you until later."
For a moment he stood looking at her without speaking. Her pale-green eyes were softly luminous in the dusk. The black hair had an animal sheen to it that reflected blue highlights. She was so beautiful it brought a lump to his throat.
"I have to talk to you, Marcia," he said finally.
"All right. Come in the back." She reached out a slim arm to part the curtains.
For a moment Roy hesitated. Somewhere deep in his subconsciousness a warning sounded, but the nearness of the woman, the heat of her body, the scent of her, overpowered his doubts. He walked through the curtain into her rooms.
"I was having some tea," she said. "Let me make you a cup."
Without waiting for him to answer, Marcia went to her small gas range and turned up the flame under a copper teakettle. From a canister she spooned crumbled leaves into a cup, then added a few drops of thick liquid from an opaque bottle. Roy watched, fascinated by the grace of even her smallest movements.
When the water was boiling Marcia poured it into the cup and stirred the mixture. She carried the cup across the room and set it on a low table before the sofa.
"Let the tea steep for a minute before you drink it," she said. She sat down on the sofa, patting the cushion next to her.
Roy sat down beside her, but was careful not to let their bodies touch. To keep from looking into her eyes, he busied himself stirring the tea. Its aroma was a mixture of spices with a hint of something bitter.
"You wanted to talk to me," Marcia said.
"Yes."
"About us?"
"In a way. And about Karyn. She isn't getting any better."
"I'm sorry."
"So am I. I'm going to have to take her away from here."
"You're leaving Drago?"
"I have to."
For the briefest fraction of a second Marcia's body stiffened. The pale-green eyes narrowed, and Roy saw a flash there of something dark and dangerous. Then it was gone. Marcia was poised again, cool and lovely, and Roy thought he must have imagined the moment.
"How soon must you go?" Her throaty voice was without emotion.
"Tomorrow."
"I see. Your tea should be ready to drink now."
Roy looked down at the cup as though wondering where it had come fr
om. He lifted it to his lips and sipped the dark brew. It had a sweet, wild taste.
"Do you like it?" she asked. "It's a very old recipe."
"It's fine," he said quickly. "Marcia, I don't want to talk about the tea."
"About what, then?"
"I hate to leave you. Do you know that?"
"I know," she said. "But we never pretended it was forever, did we?"
"No, but I want you to know that it wasn't just a… a fling for me. You've been something very special in my life. You've given me something I've never known. I'll never forget you, Marcia."
Marcia leaned toward him. Again he had the delicious sensation of being drawn into those deep green eyes. Into them and down to unknown depths.
"No," she said softly. "You never will forget me. Drink your tea, darling."
He raised the cup and drank. The pungent steam brought tears to his eyes. When he put the cup back down in the saucer he was surprised to see that his hand was shaking.
Marcia watched him. She reached over and placed her hand on his leg. The fingers seemed to sear his flesh through the cloth. His world shrank to this room and this hour and this woman.
He touched her hair. His hand moved to the back of her neck and pulled her head toward him. They kissed, their mouths open, tongues mating. When at last he pulled back a little way, Roy was breathing heavily.
"I do love you, Marcia," he said.
She shook her head. "No. You admire me. You want me. You may even need me. But you do not love me."
Roy started to say something more, but she stopped him.
"Not yet," she said. "You do not love me yet. But you will, my Roy, you will."
He kissed her again. His hand moved down the long smooth curve of her back to her firm, round hip. Marcia's body moved under his hand, and he felt that she was wearing nothing beneath the blouse and pants.
Marcia drew back her head and looked into his eyes. The corners of her mouth curled upward in the suggestion of a smile.
"Tell me what you want, Roy." She ran her tongue across her teeth. "Tell me what you want to do to me."
"I want to make love to you," he said.
"Not like that. Tell me in the real words. The words you say to me when we are naked together."
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