The Howling III h-3 Read online

  Slowly, tantalizingly, she lowered herself down on him and took his length inside her. He felt the heat radiate through his body.

  "Good?" she said, her breath moist on his face.

  He could not answer.

  She began to ride slowly up and down on him, pausing at the top just before he would have slipped out, then sinking gradually to swallow him up again.

  Malcolm closed his eyes, giving himself to the sensations of his body. Sitting on him, riding him, Lupe stepped up the rhythm and the vigour of their joinings until her buttocks smacked his upper thighs with a report like a pistol shot.

  His climax came a second before hers. She dropped down on him, her arms wrapped about his neck, nails digging furrows in his back. They cried out together and rolled back and forth over the king-size bed until his seed was spent. Then they continued to cling to each other like drowning children as their breathing slowly returned to normal. Lupe was the first to speak. "I told you you'd never had a woman like me."

  "Mmmm," was all Malcolm could manage.

  "It gets better."

  "I don't believe it."

  "Oh, yes. When you really know about yourself, and about what we are, there are ways to make it much better."

  Malcolm opened his eyes. He rolled to one side and pushed the woman away. "You said you'd take me where Derak went with Holly."

  "Did I say that?" Lupe's eyes danced with mischief. "I don't know why you're so anxious to see Derak."

  "We have to settle something."

  "You're not thinking of challenging him?"

  "Why not?"

  "Because you are just a pup. Derak has been a leader of his people for a long time. You're lucky he has let you come this far on your own."

  "Let me?"

  "Of course he has. He could have taken you many times over the past year."

  "Then why didn't he?"

  "You don't know?"

  "I'm asking."

  "Because he is your father."

  Malcolm sat up and stared at her. Derak, his father? The knowledge hit him like a fist. Malcolm knew him as a leader, a teacher, one to be respected. And perhaps feared. But a father? How was it possible? He felt closer to Holly, to Jones, to Bateman Styles than he did to the quiet-spoken man with the deep green eyes.

  "Don't start thinking that makes you too special," Lupe went on. "Derak was father to half the children in the village of Drago. Of course, many of them did not survive the fire. Maybe that is why he is so patient with you."

  "And my mother?" he said.

  "She died in the fire. You must not think of her. It is not important, as you will learn."

  He swung his feet off the bed and began putting on his clothes. "Take me to Derak now," he said.

  Lupe reached over and slid a hand between his bare buttocks. "So soon? We've just got started."

  He stood up, moving back out of her reach. "You're wrong, we're finished. Let's go."

  "You mean you had your fun and now you're through?" she said petulantly. "What about me?"

  He glared at her. "You promised."

  She patted the damp sheet beside her. "Come back. Once more, then I will take you to Derak and your lady friend."

  He cinched the belt buckle tight and crossed to the door. "If you won't help me, I'll find them myself."

  "Go ahead, if you think you can," Lupe taunted him from the bed. "But it will be much nicer in here with me."

  "The hell with you."

  He went out and slammed the door. The night surrounded him. He looked at the lonely cars crouching like abandoned beasts in the painted spaces. The lights were out now in all the rooms, except the one where Lupe waited. Malcolm felt terribly alone.

  He walked back past the motel units to where the land sloped up into the foothills. Up there somewhere was Derak, and he had Holly with him. But where? How to find them in all that expanse of dark, rolling country? The boy's doubts made the night even colder.

  The he heard it. The howling.

  Unmistakeably, it was a call to him. Malcolm closed his eyes. He sniffed the air. Small, invisible changes happened inside his body, and the night was not so cold any more.

  When he opened his eyes, their green colour had deepened. He started confidently up into the hills.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Gavin Ramsay sat staring at the little digital clock on his desk in La Reina County sheriffs office. He caught himself counting the seconds as they ticked by, and angrily turned the face of the clock away from him.

  All right, so Holly Lang did not call last night. That didn't mean anything. There were a hundred reasons she might not have telephoned him. Yeah, he told himself grimly, and about fifty of them were bad news.

  The new, slimmed-down version of Deputy Roy Nevins came into the office. His leather gleamed, his uniform was freshly pressed. He was shaved, trimmed, and looked maybe ten years younger than he had a year ago. Gavin marvelled at the varying effect exposure to violence had on different people.

  "Any action, Roy?" he asked.

  "Not to speak of. Somebody used the deer-crossing sign for target practice again. I collared a speeder from LA trying out his new Porsche. Had to break up a couple of guys who had pulled off the road to do some smooching."

  "Couple of guys?"

  "I should have mentioned that they were from San Francisco."

  "Oh, well."

  Nevins sat down to type out his report in two-finger machine-gun style. Ramsay sighed and turned the clock back around to face him. The hell with this. He was worried, and there was no use pretending he wasn't. He picked up the phone and direct-dialed the number of the Silverdale Motel.

  The female voice that answered had a pleasant, foreign sounding lilt.

  "Is there a Dr Hollanda Lang registered there?" he asked.

  "Yes, sir. She in Room 12. I ring for you."

  He listened while the line buzzed five times in his ear.

  "Sorry sir, she not answer."

  "This is Sheriff Gavin Ramsay of La Reina County. I'd like you to take a look in Dr Lang's room to see if she's all right."

  "Is something wrong with lady?" The woman's voice rose several tones.

  "There's no reason to think so," he said soothingly, "but I'd appreciate it if you would take a look."

  "Yes, yes, I look. You want I call you back?"

  "I'll hold on," Ramsay said.

  There was a clunk as the receiver was set down on the other end. Ramsay counted seconds on the clock for five minutes. Roy Nevins had stopped hammering the typewriter and was watching him.

  "Hello, Sheriff?" The sudden return of the voice in his ear startled him for a moment.

  "Yes."

  "I look in room. Nobody there. Lady's clothes put away all neat. Car outside. Maybe she walk down the road for breakfast."

  "Yeah, maybe," Ramsay said. "Thank you."

  "Trouble?" Roy Nevins said when he had hung up.

  "I don't know. Holly was going to call me from Silverdale. She didn't. Now she's not in her room. It's probably nothing."

  "Sure." Nevins went back to his report, but he continued to glance over toward Ramsay.

  Gavin made a try at studying his calendar for the coming week. Talk to the Darnay Boys" Club, lunch with local Kiwanis, oversee motorcyle hill climb east of Pinyon, entertain police science class from La Reina College. It was no use, he could not concentrate.

  He picked up the phone again and called Inyo County. The sheriff there was a man named Fielding whom Ramsay had met once or twice. A stolid lawman with good instincts, but little imagination.

  Ramsay identified himself to the switchboard and was put through to the sheriff, who sounded harried.

  "Good to hear from you, Ramsay. What can I do for you?"

  "A woman from Darnay, a Dr Hollanda Lang, checked into the Silverdale Motel yesterday. She's still registered there, but the woman in the office couldn't find her. I'm a little worried."

  "Any reason to think something might have happened
to her?"

  "Nothing concrete, except the business she was doing there."

  "What business?"

  "It had to do with the carnival."

  Fielding exhaled a blast of air into the mouthpiece. "I don't know anything about your doctor, but I've got plenty of troubles of my own with that carnival."

  "Oh?" Ramsay leaned forward.

  "Couple of men died there last night under suspicious circumstances."

  "Two men?" Ramsay said. "What happened?"

  He could hear other voices talking excitedly in the background at Inyo County.

  "I've got to go now, Ramsay," said Sheriff Fielding. "Give me a call back this evening and maybe I'll have something.

  The phone went dead in Ramsay's hand. He hung up the instrument, then dug into the bottom desk drawer for the silver bullets that had rested there since he last used them at Pastory's Bear Paw clinic.

  He said, "Think you can manage things here for a day or so, Roy?"

  "No problem," said Nevins. "Is Holly in some kind of trouble?"

  "I hope not," Ramsay said, "but I think I'll take a run over to Silverdale to check on her. If you need me, call Sheriff Fielding, Inyo County."

  "Will do," Nevins said.

  * * *

  As he drove through the Inyo pass and started the descent through the hills to Silverdale, Ramsay began to wonder what he would say to Holly if he found her safe and sound in the Silverdale Motel. How would he explain galloping over here like John Wayne on the chance she might be in trouble?

  Hell with that. There was trouble here. Two men were dead on the grounds of the Samson Supershow, and Ramsay would be damned surprised if Holly and the boy Malcolm were not somehow involved.

  He had to pass the carnival grounds on his way to the motel, so Ramsay pulled off there first. He identified himself to the Inyo County deputy who was posted at the entrance. In the tent that displayed pictures of "Grolo the Animal Boy" he found Sheriff Fielding and an agitated little man named Moskowitz who seemed to be the owner of the carnival.

  Fielding gave him a rundown of the previous night's fatalities. "One of the dead men was Bateman Styles. He ran this Animal Boy thing. Cause of death seems to be a heart attack, but there were suspicious bruises. The other one was definitely not a natural death. Had his throat ripped out."

  "Got a suspect?"

  "A pretty good one," Fielding said. "It seems this so-called Animal Boy hasn't been seen since the killings. Nobody knows where he went. Not that they're telling, anyway."

  "You're on the wrong track there, Sheriff," piped Moskowitz.

  The lawmen looked down, surprised. They had forgotten for a moment that the little man was there.

  "What makes you think so, Mr Moskowitz?" said Fielding.

  "The kid did a kind of wild-man act, but that's all it was — an act. When he wasn't working he was just a shy, sweet-natured kid. No way he could kill anybody. Besides, he thought Bateman Styles was Jesus Christ."

  Ramsay had a sudden thought. "What was the name of the second victim?"

  Fielding consulted a notebook. "The name in his wallet was Wayne Pastory. A doctor, apparently."

  The muscles tensed in Ramsay's upper back. "I know that one," he said. Briefly, he filled the Inyo Sheriff in on Pastory's background in Pinyon.

  "Could you take a look at the body and give us a positive ID?" Fielding said.

  "Sure. But there's something I have to do first."

  "Check on your Dr Lang?"

  "I'll get back to you."

  * * *

  Holly Lang's little Volkswagen Rabbit looked so natural and peaceful parked outside Unit 12 that for a moment Ramsay felt his fears might be foolish after all. However, the apprehension returned as he knocked and waited for a response.

  A woman with glossy black hair and mischievous eyes opened the door. She wore a motel bath towel wrapped around a sensual olive-skinned body.

  "Sorry to keep you waiting," she said. "As you can see, I was in the shower."

  Ramsay pulled his head back and checked the room number again. "I'm looking for Dr Hollanda Lang. Maybe I have the wrong room."

  "You have the right room," the dark woman said. "She's not here."

  Ramsay fumbled out his identification. "My name's Ramsay," he said. "Sheriff, La Reina County."

  "I am Lupe," said the woman. "I was told you might be along."

  "Told? Told by whom?"

  The woman shivered. "Do you mind if we go inside? I'm getting a chill standing here."

  Ramsay stepped into the room. Lupe closed the door behind them. He looked over the impersonal motel furnishings, searching for some sign of Holly Lang. Aside from a blue overnight case beside the bureau that might have been hers, he could find nothing.

  "Where is Dr Lang?" he said.

  "Why is everyone so interested in finding that woman?" Lupe said. "Won't I do?"

  "I don't want to play games. If you know where she is, please tell me."

  Lupe pointed up into the foothills that rose immediately behind the motel. "She's up there."

  "Up there where?"

  "She's with a friend of mine."

  Ramsay took a step toward her. "Let's stop wasting time. I want to know where Holly is, and I want to know now."

  Lupe clutched the towel to her breast in mock fright.

  "And what will you do to me, Sheriff, if I don't want to tell you? Give me the third degree?"

  With an effort Ramsay brought himself under control. "I think we'd beter go talk to the local authorities. They're investigating a couple of deaths at the carnival, and they might want to ask you some questions."

  The woman's green eyes lost their playfulness. "I don't think you want to have me arrested. Not if you want to see your Holly again."

  Ramsay ground his teeth. "Where is she?"

  "I told you — with a friend of mine. His name is Derak."

  "Should the name mean something to me?"

  "He is from Drago."

  Ramsay stiffened. "And you?"

  "Yes."

  "Jesus." Unconsciously his hand brushed the jacket pocket that was heavy with the silver bullets.

  "I see you are beginning to understand. She will not have been harmed yet, but if you want her to stay that way, you had better be nice to me."

  "What about the boy, Malcolm? Is he with them?"

  "If he is not, he soon will be," Lupe said.

  Ramsay moved toward the door.

  "Where are you going?"

  "To organize a search of these hills."

  "A search?"

  "Men, helicopters, whatever it takes."

  "That would be a mistake. Your men and helicopters did not capture Derak the last time. They are no match for him. All they can do is make him angry. And then what do you suppose he might do to your Holly?"

  Gavin stood indecisively halfway between the woman and the door.

  "There is another way," Lupe said in a throaty voice.

  "Well?"

  In a sinuous movement she pulled away the towel and let it fall to the floor. Gavin stared at the smooth naked body.

  "Come make love to me and I'll tell you about it," she said.

  "Are you crazy?"

  The green eyes flashed. "No. I'm hungry. Last night had a boy. He just gave me a sharper appetite for a man." She opened her arms. "Come. Let me show you what a woman like me can do for a real man."

  For a moment Gavin was actually close to accepting the challenge. The woman's body was wonderfully inviting, and the faint musky smell of her made him fell a little drunk.

  He shook off the impulse. "I'll bet you're something," he said, "but strange as it may seem to you, I'm not in the mood. See you."

  He turned and walked to the door. As he gripped the knob she called to him.

  "Wait."

  He turned back. She reached down and picked up the towel, but made no effort to cover herself. "I'll take you to them."

  He eyed her suspiciously. "Why would you do that?" />
  "Because I do not want her to be one of us. That's what happens, you know, when someone is bitten and doesn't die. They become… what we are."

  "So I've heard," Gavin said.

  "Lately I have been Derak's woman. I don't want to share him."

  "All right," Gavin said. "Get dressed and let's get started."

  * * *

  The first half hour was rough going as the slope grew steeper and there was no useable trail through the heavy brush. Lupe, in spite of her soft shoes and leather outfit, moved easily up the hill while Ramsay struggled. He was breathing hard by the time they reached a trail that angled up the hillside at a more gentle grade.

  Lupe was waiting for him as he topped the rise onto the trail. She contrived to brush her breasts against him. "Want to rest? Or something?"

  "No, I'm fine. Let's go."

  She made a face at him, but they continued up the trail.

  After another hour they were making good time. The trail forked, each leg angling up the hill in a different direction. Ramsay turned to Lupe for a decision. She suddenly cried out and fell to her knees. She rolled to a sitting position clutching her right leg.

  "What's the matter?" Gavin said.

  "It's my ankle. I stepped on a rock and I heard something pop in there. It hurts."

  Gavin knelt beside her and took the leg gently in his hand. He eased the soft leather shoe off her foot. Lupe grimaced.

  "Do you think you can walk on it?" he said.

  "I don't know. It hurts really bad."

  He ran his fingers gently along the skin of her leg from knee to instep. There was no irregularity that might indicate a broken bone. In spite of the urgency of the situation, he was aware of the smooth feel of her flesh.

  "Maybe it's higher up," she said. "Above the knee. Why don't you feel there?"

  He turned and saw she was grinning at him.

  "Go ahead," she said. "Feel my leg. It's already getting better."

  "Damn you," he began, but before he could say more Lupe grasped him behind the neck and pulled his head down into a steamy kiss.

  He pulled away, a little bit surprised at her strength.

  "Will you for Christ's sake cut it out?" he said.