Lone Star 04 (8 page)

Chapter 6

Ki couldn't remember when a fire had seemed brighter, cheerier, more welcome. Jessie brought him coffee and he held the cup between his hands, enjoying the solid feel of the mug and the strong aroma of the dark and heady brew.

He understood what was happening. The fire, the mug, and the coffee were real and solid things, everyday objects from the world he lived in. They had nothing to do with shadow and superstition. His encounter with the wolf had shocked him more than a little. Nothing in his stern samurai training had prepared him for the thoughts that had preyed on his mind. He was more vulnerable to such things than he'd imagined.

Jessie sat down beside him and sipped her coffee. “He's going to be all right,” she said. “Scratched up pretty badly and he lost some blood, but you got to him in time.” She nodded over her shoulder at the back room. “Sonia brought in an old lady who has to be a hundred and ten. Did you see her? She's got bags of leaf mold and little clay pots of stuff that smells bad. Nothing you ever saw in a doctor's office, but it seems to do the job. You're not listening to me at all, are you?”

Ki looked up quickly. “Yes. And no, Jessie. I'm afraid I'm only partly here at the moment.”

“That business out there got to you, didn't it?”

“Yes, it did. Very much.”

She studied him thoughtfully. “I don't see any reason why it shouldn‘t, Ki. You don't have to believe in all this for it to affect you. Wolfsbane and silver bullets and things howling outside...” She hugged her shoulders and shivered. “Gives
me
the creeps, I'll tell you.”

Ki nodded in agreement. “Fear and superstition are most infectious diseases. My problem is, I didn't think I could catch it.”

“Ki...”

He shrugged and shot her a weary grin. “Don't worry. I am half Japanese and half American. As far as I know, there are no Transylvanians on either side of my family.” His smile faded and he stared into the fire. “I see, though, what has happened to these people. And I understand
how
it could happen. I think you do too.”

“Oh, yes. I do, Ki.” She sipped her coffee and set it down.

“This is a strange business, Jessie. I don't know what to make of it. There were no stock out there by the creek, you know. The few animals they have are all penned up right here in the village.”

“Wolves have been known to attack people before,” Jessie reminded him.

“Yes, they have. But not without some reason. If they are starving, for instance. Or cornered, with no way out. Neither of those things happened here.”

“No, so what's the answer?”

Ki shrugged. “I don't know, but—” He stopped abruptly and turned, peering about the room. “Jessie, where is Feodor? I just remembered I haven't seen him since I brought in Gustolf.”

Jessie winced. “I forgot to tell you. He went out
there,
Ki.”

“In the fields?” Ki shook his head in wonder. “Is everyone crazy around here? I don't suppose he's armed, or that anyone went with him?”

Before Jessie could answer, Sonia came in from the back room, slumped wearily against the table, and ran a hand through her hair.

“There's still some coffee,” said Jessie. She got up and laid a hand on the girl's shoulder. “Why don't you sit down and get some rest? Your father's going to be just fine, Sonia. He's a strong man, and he'll heal fast. In a few days—”

Sonia jerked away, dark eyes blazing with anger. “My father was right. You understand nothing, do you? He will not be ‘just fine,' Miss Starbuck!”

“But he will, Sonia—”

“No!” Tears streaked her cheeks. “Do you know what our people are doing now? They are gathered in one of the cottages. They pray to the saints that Gustolf dies, that his wounds will not heal. That is my prayer as well!”

“What?” Jessie caught the girl and turned her roughly around. “Sonia—you can't mean that!”

A low cry caught in the girl's throat and she sank to a chair and buried her face in her hands. “If—if a werewolf brings blood to a human, the blood of the creature itself taints its victim.” She peered up at Jessie, her features strained with fear. “If my father should live, then he will become as the man-wolf himself, at the next full moon!”

Jessie moved toward her. “No!” The girl shrank away. “You don't understand. You don't know about these things.”

“I know that you're terribly frightened. That you
believe
that's what will happen. But it won‘t, Sonia, really.”

Sonia laughed through her tears. “You would know this, of course. A rich lady from America has great knowledge of my country and what happens there.”

“I don't know Transylvania, or anything about you and your people,” Jessie admitted. “I
do
know men don't turn into wolves.”

“You know nothing!” snapped Sonia.

“Please.” Ki stood and faced the girl. “Can you tell me what Feodor is doing in the fields? Why did he go there?”

Sonia's face fell. “He had to. There was no one else.”

“No one else to do what?”

“To get the cane, of course!”

Ki sighed and let out a breath. “Yes. The cane. Your father was raving about that when I carried him back.”

Sonia turned her anger on Ki. “He was not
raving
at all. He knew he had lost the cane, and that it had to be retrieved. Even at the price of his life—even if he had
not
been bitten by the thing. You should have let him do as he wished.”

“It did not seem like a sound idea at the moment.”

“Because you have no understanding,” scoffed Sonia. “Why do you think Feodor is risking his life now to try to find it? My father is the Keeper of the Silver Cane. The cane is our life, our only protection. It has been passed from elder to elder for hundreds of years, from one generation to the next. It is all we have to face the powers of the devil's creatures on Earth!” Sonia moaned and tore at her face. “God, why am I telling you this?” You don't believe a word of it.“

“We believe you and your people are very troubled by this thing,” Ki said gently.

“Troubled! Is that what you think is happening here? Trouble?” The girl stood, straightened her skirts, and walked unsteadily to the big stove. “I cannot understand what happened,” she said, almost to herself. “Things are not the same in America.” She turned and looked at Jessie. “That is why my father let you stay for supper. He thought it was safe for you to ride out of here after dark. In our country, a man cannot become a wolf unless the moon is full. That would not happen for another three days. Yet the creature has killed. Why? Why has this—” Sonia's face twisted in fury and grief, and she fled from the room and closed the door behind her.

Jessie rolled her eyes at Ki, filled her mug again, then changed her mind and set it aside. “Lord, Ki, I don't think you could convince these folks if you skinned that wolf and nailed its hide to the wall.”

“A belief is harder to kill than a whole pack of wolves. It will take more than that.” He moved toward the door and turned to face her. “I'm going to take a look around. I'll be right back.”

Jessie nearly came out of her chair. “Ki, you are not thinking about going after Feodor?”

“No. That occurred to me, but only briefly.” Ki grinned and shook his head. “The Japanese have a saying: ‘Do not rescue a Transylvanian from the wheatfields. He will likely never forgive you.' ”

Jessie smiled thinly at him.

 

 

The women of the village might be praying their elder would die, but Ki found the men engaged in other pursuits. They were huddled on the edge of the common, squatting against the wall of a cottage. A convenient open doorway was nearby. A bottle of wine was making the rounds, and several of the men puffed big curved pipes full of Black and pungent tobacco.

Ki didn't mean to stop in the shadows. He would have walked past the group and kept going if a familiar voice hadn't caught his attention. It was Zascha, their unpleasant supper companion of a few hours before. Ki had no idea what he was saying, but the man's tone was unmistakable. He was stomping up and down before his friends, flailing his arms about and spitting out his anger.

He's stirring them up about something, thought Ki, and doing a pretty fair job of it. As he watched, Zascha gestured toward the fields, then back to Gustolf's cottage. Twice, Ki picked Jessie's name out of the unfamiliar tongue. Each time Zascha mentioned her, his listeners muttered darkly to themselves, slammed their fists together, and gravely shook their heads.

Ki walked quietly away, circled the cottages, and looked out into the night. Every town had at least one troublemaker, and the sour-faced Zascha clearly had the job sewn up in Gustolf's village. Ki would have given much to know what the man was saying, but figured he had a fair idea already. The American girl was not to be trusted. She had come to lure the elder into her web, to fleece the village before they could sell their land and move on. And look what had happened—on the very night she and the Oriental had arrived. One of their own had been killed, and old Gustolf himself was doomed, bitten by the man-wolf. Did the villagers need any more proof that the place called Kansas was not for them?

Maybe it wasn't exactly like that, thought Ki—but it was likely close enough. Zascha would do his damnedest to—

A boot scraped earth behind him and Ki threw himself aside, feeling the weapon slice air only inches from his shoulder. He rolled, and came up on his haunches in a crouch. The man came at him like a bull, whipping the club before him in a quick, vicious arc. Ki stepped deftly away, heard the other man too late, and took the big fist on his shoulder. Ki staggered, stumbling away from his attackers. The first man yelled and came at him, raised the club, and swept it at Ki's head. Ki twisted and found his footing, caught the weapon in his fist, and swung the man aside.

His other assailant was more cautious now. He circled Ki warily, waiting for his friend. Ki watched him. They wanted to get him between them—one in front and the other in back. He moved in close to the man he could see and let them have their way. The man backed off, drawing Ki toward him. Ki sensed the other man, felt him right behind him.

Suddenly he feinted toward the man in front, twisted, and moved in a blur. His foot lashed out and caught the man behind him in the gut. The man cried out, dropped his weapon, and clutched his belly. Ki kicked him solidly in the throat, hard enough to down him without snapping his neck.

When he turned, the other man was coming at him. Ki stood his ground. The man stopped, surprised to see his foe simply standing there waiting for the blow. Then the tendons tightened in his arms and he swept the air with his club, forcing Ki back. He'd learned a few lessons and was taking his time. Now he held the club in a shorter, easier grip, with both hands, grasping the weapon close to the chest and making it hard for Ki to come at him.

Ki watched the man's eyes, the muscles in his neck. The man swung, again and again. Each time, Ki took a step back, knowing the instant before the blow was coming. The man tried to throw him off, feinting, then coming in fast. Ki waited. The man came at him again and Ki ducked, digging his heels in the earth and launching himself like a spring at the man's legs.

The attacker shouted and flailed his arms. The club fell away. Ki slammed him hard against the ground. The man rolled, swung a big fist, and caught Ki's jaw. Ki spit blood and wiped his mouth. The man scrambled to his feet. Ki hit him—short, punishing blows that whipped inside the man's guard. The man swung wildly at Ki, but Ki merely jerked his head aside and let the blows pass. He came inside the man's arms and slapped him with three rapid blows across the face. The man staggered. His arms went limp and a glaze covered his eyes. Ki tapped him lightly on the jaw and turned away, not even waiting to watch him fall.

As he turned, Ki saw something move in the shadow of one of the cottages. He couldn't see who it was, but it didn't take much to guess.

“Zascha,” he said softly, “you send other men to do your work. You should come and try yourself.” The shadow didn't answer. When Ki looked again, it was gone.

 

 

Jessie turned as Feodor opened the door to the night and closed it quickly behind him. “Well, I'm glad you're back safe,” she said. “Is anything out there?”

“If it is, I didn't see it,” he said flatly. “And that is fine with me.” He looked at Jessie, then past her to the closed door of Gustolf's room. “I found it,” he said, holding up the cane for her to see. “The old man will be relieved. How is he? Was he badly hurt?”

“No, he's all right. Sonia's with him now. I think she probably passed out from exhaustion.” Jessie turned her head slightly and watched Feodor as he slipped off his jacket and heated the last of the coffee on the stove. He was a strange man, and she wasn't yet sure what to make of him. He was darkly attractive, and she liked the way he handled himself—calm and self-assured, saying what he felt like saying and keeping the rest to himself. More than once during supper she'd caught his eyes on her, and Jessie knew exactly what he was thinking. He was wondering how it would be to go to bed with her, and had already decided it was a fine idea. Jessie had to admit the same thought had crossed her mind. She was honest in her feelings toward a man, and her instincts seldom betrayed her. She had a good feeling about this one, but there was ... something that wasn't quite right. She decided it had a lot to do with what was happening here, and how much of it Feodor did and didn't believe.