Paradigms Lost (44 page)

“That,” I indicated the crushed glasses, “will cost you about ten grand.”

His expression became a snarl and his features rippled slightly.

“Unless you want me to blow the gaff on your cozy little tourist village here, or you assault me against your King’s command, that is.”

He seemed to be considering it through the bit about his village, but when I spoke of the King, he instantly backed off, clearly frightened by the mere mention of Virigar. “N-no. You aren’t intending to tell about us?”

“That depends on how you answer my question.” I let my heartbeat slow down. It looked like things might not end in a blaze of claws and gunfire. “Again, why the hell are all of you down here? Or is it just to give the words ‘tourist trap’ new meaning?”

He chuckled humorlessly. “The temptation is certainly there. But no, we don’t kill anyone here. We can feed without killing, if we must, and if we control ourselves; and control is the complete and absolute law here. If we permitted killings, no matter how subtle, your law-enforcement people would eventually notice a change in the statistics and come to look.” He gritted his teeth at my inquiring look, and finally forced himself to continue. “We are . . . we are
hiding
here.”

I couldn’t restrain a guffaw. The wolves were running scared! “So you’re living like cattle now, hoping none of the bulls with silver horns catch up with you?”

He growled, a very inhuman sound coming from an apparently human throat. “For the moment . . . until we have decided how to properly deal with this new threat. So you didn’t kill Jerry Mansfield?” he asked, changing to his human guise’s voice.

“Nope. Had no idea there were any wolves around here until one of them tried to kill me earlier today. Now I understand your bit about denying he was a wolf, though; you can’t have any suspicion of wolves being present at all.”

“Mansfield was human,” Baker said. “Someone thought he was a wolf, looks like, but I guarantee you, he was human.”

“The plot thickens,” I commented. This was an interesting sidelight on the matter. “And since I didn’t kill him, we still have a mystery on our hands. A real wolf would have known he wasn’t one. So Mansfield was killed by someone who wasn’t wolf and wasn’t human either.” Suddenly, I remembered why we’d come here in the first place. “Hey, Sheriff, do you know a wolf who goes by the human name Karl Weimar?”

He nodded. “That’d be young Kheveriast. What about him?”

“He tried to kill me earlier, assuming I’d been trying to hunt wolves, but that’s not why I ask. If you go down this alley at the side,” I pointed, “you’ll find a statue of him. Except I think it probably isn’t really a statue.”

Marie looked puzzled, but Baker’s face was a study in dawning horror. “A . . . statue?”

For a moment I actually felt sympathy for Baker—but I remembered that despite his fight to save his race, his speech had indicated no remorse for his people’s actions and had confirmed the usual wolvish tendency toward megalomania. “Gray stone, incredibly detailed.”

He got a grip. “Mr. Wood, I have some calls to make. We will speak again. This business may concern both your people and mine.”

“Maybe,” I said. “Why would someone have thought Mansfield was a wolf?”

“He worked for us,” Baker answered after a moment.

I blinked. “What?”

“I said, he worked for us. While we have a fairly good grip on this town, new humans who move in can’t be easily controlled—and if they start installing their own sensors, none of our people dare get near the house. Jerry was . . . I suppose you’d call him a special agent. He would arrange for any active CryWolf sensors to become inactive. We’d use him to meet with agents who might be carrying their own gadgetry. Another reason we have to keep things low-profile here, obviously; if the Feds come in, they might bring CryWolf-equipped cameras, goggles, and so on, and that would ruin it all.”

I was utterly floored by this revelation. “What in the name of God could convince a human being to work for things like you?”

Baker grinned. It wasn’t a comforting expression. “Your people are no angels, Wood. We can offer plenty to a wise human, especially when, as is now the case, you humans have something to offer us. And we generally play fair; after all, even your people don’t butcher every cow—you keep some as breeding stock, some as working animals, and even a few as pets. If you weren’t associated with Domingo, I have no doubt our King would have made you an offer to switch sides.”

The very thought of someone—of a human being—working for these monsters, knowing what they were, was so repellent that I simply couldn’t reply for a moment. Finally, I got my voice back.

“Okay, Baker. I won’t blow your cover . . . for now. But I am not working with you anymore. I will give you no help, no hints, nothing. So far, whatever it is has targeted you monsters or someone who was working hard to give up his humanity. As far as I’m concerned, that means they’re doing the world a friggin’ service.”

Baker stepped forward again, glaring. “Wood, you’ll assist if we say so, or I’ll—”

“You’ll what? Come on, tell me.” I threw my own sarcastic grin back in his face. “You can’t do a goddamned thing to me, Baker, and you know it. I’m too well known to just disappear. If I get killed, your cover’s blown for sure, and once the country realizes what you’re up to, there won’t be a safe place for you bastards anywhere on the planet. You’ll have to go to ground in wilderness, away from all the comforts you’ve obviously come to like. Even if you keep the Feds out of it, Verne Domingo will deal with you. And I don’t think the King will stop him in that instance.” I took Sylvie’s arm and started to walk out.

“I still have an investigation ongoing, Wood,” Baker said, with a cold intonation. “Leave town and I can have you brought right back here.”

“Oh, I won’t leave. Yet. But you finish this investigation—pin it on either the real crook, or one of your own people, I don’t care which—and let us out of this infested hellhole within the next week. Because I swear by God that if we have to hang around here any longer than that, I’ll phone the authorities anyway.”

“You wouldn’t!”

I whirled around, grabbed his collar and shoved him back against the counter. “The hell I wouldn’t! Do you think I’m an idiot? That I can’t do a little simple math? It’s been less than a year since Morgantown, and here you are, in charge, hundreds of you furry bastards living like so many Addams-family rejects behind a coat of Brady-Bunch paint. You didn’t win any elections to get here—you whacked hundreds of people and took their places. The
only
reason I’m not blowing the whistle right now is that when your kind are cornered, you kill, and I don’t want to be responsible for another bloodbath. I’ll take your word—for the moment—that you’re not killing anymore. Maybe it’s true. It had better be true from now on, believe you me.” I let him go, turned back to Sylvie. “Let’s go.”

I ignored the crawling sensation between my shoulder blades and didn’t look back as we left.

CHAPTER 63

Dealing With a Devil

“Why the hell can’t you keep your fifty thousand makeup things off the darn counter?!” I exploded as three bottles fell over.

“Probably for the same reason you can’t put your stupid clothes away when you go to bed!” Syl snapped back. “Do you know how disgusting it is to leave your dirty clothes on the floor?”

I opened my mouth to fire back, saw the mingled anger and hurt in her eyes, and closed both eyes and mouth. “Jeez, I’m sorry, Syl. This thing’s really getting to me.”

She came over and put her arms around me. “Me, too.”

“Some honeymoon
this
is turning out to be.”

Venice and Nokomis were still lovely places, but just how are you supposed to relax and enjoy your stay when you’re aware that any one of the nice people around you—on the beach, in the store, on the street—could be a soul-eating monstrosity just hiding out until such time as they can gain the upper hand on your own species? Baker had come through with the money for destroying my prototype, but without access to my homegrown lab and materials I wouldn’t be able to duplicate the things. I was now carrying one of the commercial CryWolf goggles, but I didn’t bother wearing it while out and about. I could do without drawing that much attention, and I really didn’t want to know just how many wolves were around me at any given time.

“The first part was fine. It’s not your fault that we’ve found ourselves stuck in another strange circumstance.”

I took a deep breath and tried to relax into her. There was no point in letting this drive me nuts. “Maybe not, but Verne did say that
I
might be the focal point of everything. The fact we’ve run into the weird
here
. . . well, he might be right.” I took another breath, smelling her hair and letting my eyes close. I’d given Baker a week, and it had only been two days. If I didn’t get a grip, I’d be saying something I’d never be able to make up for by the time another five days were past.

There was a knock on the door. Both Syl and I jumped, showing the state of our nerves. “Who is it?” I called back.

“Sheriff Baker sent me over, Mr. Wood. Might I come in?”

I went over to the recently repaired door, put on my goggles, and opened it, keeping the chain on as I studied the man standing there. He was a tall man, over my six foot one, with thick, wavy brown hair brushed back from a high forehead, piercing blue eyes, and sharp, patrician features. He was slender, though apparently fit, and his clothes were of impeccable cut—clearly upper-class. I glanced back at Syl to make sure she didn’t have a nasty feeling about the next few seconds, then nodded, taking off the CryWolf goggles and sliding the chain to the side. “Come on in. What’s this about?” I asked.

“I have a . . . business proposition to make you, Mr. Wood,” he said. He bowed to Sylvie. “Lady Sylvia Stake; I have heard of you. An honor.”

As he was paying his respects, Syl was checking him out. His voice had a faint English accent, but with perhaps a Canadian influence? “A business proposition, Mr . . . ?”

“Carruthers, sir, Alexi Carruthers,” he replied, shaking my hand firmly. “Yes. I would like to see if I can persuade you to reconsider your refusal to assist investigating the current string of unusual murders.”

What had been a pair was now a string. “There have been more?”

Carruthers nodded, taking a seat when I indicated that he should. “Three, two wolf and one human.”

“Was the human another of the wolves’ allies?” I asked.

“She was,” Carruthers acknowledged. “This may be coincidence, however. Out of necessity, as many townspeople as possible had been recruited. It is not improbable for a killer to run into two collaborators.”

I shook my head. “What’s in it for me, Mr. Carruthers? So far, as I told Baker, this whatever-it-is seems perfectly happy killing wolves and traitors to humanity. Since the wolves perpetrated mass slaughter to move here, and don’t show any sign of regret, I’m not particularly motivated to try and help them. I’m supposed to be on my honeymoon, not working.”

Carruthers smiled faintly. “I suppose monetary recompense would be foolish?”

I snorted. “I may not be the richest man in the world, but I’ve got more money than I know what to do with.”

“I told Baker that myself,” Carruthers admitted, “but it was the simplest offer I could make. When he called me in, I warned him you would be difficult to deal with; you have many reasons to not wish any of us well.”

I studied him. “Did you say ‘us,’ Mr. Carruthers?”

He smiled again. “Yes, I did.”

“You’re a wolf?”

“I am.”

The terrible, hollow feeling I’d had after Karl Weimar had attacked us returned. The wolves
had
found a way to hide themselves from the detectors. “Damn.”

He looked momentarily confused, then laughed. “Ahhh, your clever little CryWolf device! I must compliment you on that—an inspired piece of design. One that couldn’t have been done effectively even a few years ago.”

“Useless now though,” I said, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

“Oh, far from it!” Carruthers assured me earnestly. “Really. Only a very, very select few of us can pass such devices with impunity. Only those of us who are truly Elder Wolves, and of course the King himself.”

“Baker isn’t an Elder?”

“Baker? Little Hastrikas?” Carruther’s laugh filled the room with a rich baritone sound again. “Why, he’s no more than eleven millennia—barely more than an infant, really, all things considered. No, no, Mr. Wood, there aren’t more than a handful of the Great Elders left alive. I, of course, am one of them.” For a moment, his eyes flickered, became soulless glowing yellow orbs. “Virigan, at your service.”

Both Syl and I gasped—in a way, that partial, instantaneous transformation was more macabre than the full-scale change. “So,” I said, “you’re saying that the CryWolf devices are still reliable?”

“In the vast, vast majority of cases, indeed.”

He still seemed relaxed and cheerful. “You don’t appear particularly disturbed by this . . . situation. If you don’t mind my asking, why aren’t you on the warpath along with the rest of your relatives?”

The smile faded; now Carruthers looked serious. “Mr. Wood, most of our people are children by our standards. Even the older ones, like Baker, have had easy times. They need to learn that sometimes prey can turn on you, and they need to know how to survive such times. If they cannot, they do not deserve to live; other worlds are not nearly as forgiving as this one has been. We are the greatest and most powerful of all beings that have ever lived; only those who prove their worthiness again and again should have the right to even approach that potential. So has it ever been. If they wish a different course for our people,” he smiled coldly, “all they need do is challenge the King for rulership. And win, of course.

“But enough about us, Mr. Wood; let’s talk about you.” Carruthers studied me for a moment. “I actually wanted to meet you quite some months ago, after you interfered with something I’d been working on for years.” He raised an elegant eyebrow, waiting for me to guess.

I didn’t have to think long; there was really only one viable guess. “So you were one of the people behind the Project—the one in Vietnam, with Tai Lee Xiang.”