Shadow on the Moon (29 page)

 
Show mercy, please, oh, Venus.

Restore my love's humanity.

Erase his fangs, his claws, his
wolfish strength.

 
Oh, make him pure again."

The forest rattled as if a
steamroller were smashing it down. Branches snapped, roots groaned and screeched,
seemed pulled from their very ground by passing hands. Garbled utterances
mingled with these horrible noises, and Dana shivered with the dreadful
realization that she'd heard those same sounds on the night she freed the
sheep.

Lily had arrived.

* *
*

Morgan was lost in a haze of
bloodlust. Horrifying and cruelly satisfying images filled his mind's eye. He
saw Dana under him, eyes wide in mortal terror, his slavering jaws lowering to
her tender throat. Blood flowed, rich and fragrant. He salivated, preparing to
feast.

No-o-o-o! Never!

Reality lurched into focus. How
long they'd been there, he couldn't say. The muted thuds of werewolf footpads
reached his ears. He felt the forest quiver, heard Lily's shrill voice even
over the baying of his dogs.

"You stupid omega fool,"
she shrieked in the guttural werewolf tongue. "Did you really believe they
would not do the ritual?"

"But, Lily," whined her
companion. "Morgan—"

"Blocked us in our den, all
because you led him to us."

"Fast, fast, fast, sweet
powers of love," cried Dana, drowning out Jorje's response.

Morgan then heard the pair skid to
a stop, almost saw Lily putting up one arm. "Listen! Listen, you stupid
pup. The vile female chants the words even as we move."

"How can we stop them now? The
h-holy water ." Dread filled Jorje's young voice.

"I have ways," said Lily
slyly. "Oh, I have ways."

Then their pads fell again upon the
pine-covered earth.

As they neared, the dogs spun to
face away from the circle, and Morgan felt a moment's pride. He'd trained them
well. Then the moon tugged at him again. He looked up, fell beneath its spell.
Huge now, round, and glowing yellow-orange, its man face called to him. Foul
images rose up. Instrument of Death, they cried, move swiftly. His hunger
erupted with a howl that split the air.

Lily and Jorje burst from the
forest. The dogs bayed more furiously. Dana's chants increased in volume.

Morgan fell into a mindless fog,
and just before it enveloped him he heard the whir of flapping wings. A bird
alighted on the stone edge of the fire pit, cocking its head watchfully, the
crimson flames reflecting darkly on its white feathers.

Its outline quickly blurred,
replaced in Morgan's mind by images of bloody slaughters and screaming deaths.

Chapter Twenty-Four

"Okay, men and women,"
Schumacher blustered, pacing back and forth before his troops. "Come
sunrise, I want every man jack of you in uniform, armed and ready to march.
We're wiping this wolf scourge off the mountain by sundown."

A low murmur ran through the
troops. Schumacher scowled and it immediately ceased.

"I know these things seem
fearful, but they're just a pack of wild dogs, that's all."

"
Canine lupus
,"
muttered Rutherford.

Ignoring him, the captain went on.
"Stiffen your backbones, folks. Shake off those willies, and start hunting
in earnest. I expect nothing but the best from all of you. Hear that? Nothing
but the best." He put on his most inspiring smile. "You can do it! I
know you can!"

When he dismissed the unit, they
wandered listlessly off, convincing Schumacher he'd been wasting his breath.

"Quite a speech," said a
now-familiar voice from behind him, in a tone that suggested it wasn't a
compliment, and the captain turned to see Rutherford, who was wearing a wry
smile.

"Don't put the troops
down," the captain said. "Most of them are young. Can't blame them
for being scared."

"Oh, I wasn't putting them
down."

Deciding to ignore the implication,
Schumacher started to walk away. But Rutherford stopped him with a restraining
hand on the shoulder.

"Do you really believe we'll
find wolves out there?"

Schumacher stared at the man's
hand. Rutherford finally dropped it. But he took his time doing it.

"You saw those plaster
casts," he continued. "Can you honestly say they belong to a
wolf?"

"Obviously, you don't think
so. Just as obviously, you're going to give me your opinion whether I want it
or not. So shoot."

"A clever man is trying to
throw us off by disguising his tracks, that's what I think. What I don't quite
get is why you aren't changing the focus of this mission."

Schumacher's blood began boiling,
making him warm for the first time in days. "Look, you goddam
weenie," he growled. "I'm fed up with you trying to get this wolf
hunt called off. This unit's going out tomorrow, and we're coming back with a
load of carcasses! If you know what's good for you, you'll stay outta my
way!"

"A waste of time,"
Rutherford stated definitively. "But suit yourself."

The captain whirled awkwardly, then
stalked back to his motor home. Sunrise would arrive soon enough, and he needed
his sleep.

A short while later, an elephant
began battering at his door. An enormous beast, with padded feet like a wolf,
its trunk a long, undulating tentacle covered with gaping suckers that wanted
to draw him in, absorb his essence. The ramming intensified. Soon the beast
would break through. He was helpless to prevent himself from becoming fodder—

"Captain! Captain
Schumacher!" Each word was punctuated by a slam on the door. The captain
shot straight up in his bed, gripping his covers tightly around him.

Dragging a blanket with him, he got
up and moved to the door. He still trembled from the aftermath of his
nightmare, so he ignored the insistent knocking for a minute until he regained
control.

Finally—and slowly—he opened up.
The cold chill of predawn greeted him as he gazed into Fishman's face.

"Don't you hear that?"
Rutherford asked, waving excitedly into the distance. "It's been going on
for hours."

"What?" Then it came to
his ears. Bloodcurdling sounds that brought back the horror of his nightmare.
Howls and yowls, screeches and screams. His first thought was to whirl and
climb under his bed.

He couldn't. Steeling himself, he
asked where the sounds were coming from.

"We think from the clearing in
Ebony Canyon," replied Rutherford, stepping inside and pulling the door
shut behind him.

The captain stared speechlessly
into Rutherford's pale face. He could see the man was frightened, too, but his
shoulders were resolutely squared and he was fully dressed, clearly prepared to
face the horror happening just a few hundred yards from where they were. If the
captain had been a better man, Rutherford's courage would have shamed him.

"Your people are ready,
Captain. We need to move quickly if we want to save that hiker."

"Who ordered that?"
Schumacher asked sharply.

"I did, sir." Rutherford
shuffled, then planted his feet firmly on the ground. Schumacher could tell he
was waiting for the ensuing challenge, so he didn't disappoint him.

"On what authority?"

"Officially, your sergeant
ordered the mobilization. We couldn't wake you, Captain. We've been trying for
several hours."

Schumacher couldn't hide his
shudder. "It's been going on that long?"

"The first report came shortly
after midnight. We have to hurry, Captain."

The captain nodded numbly. But he
knew his job, if nothing else, and he hurried to pull on his clothes. Now his
professional side was taking over, and as he zipped up his parka, he glanced at
the clock. Five in the morning. The sun would be rising soon.

He turned back to Rutherford.
"Order a helicopter. Tell them to be heavily armed."

"I already did. They'll come
at first light. The rest of us are meeting at the trailhead in five
minutes."

With that, Rutherford returned to
the screaming darkness.

The heinous sounds swept inside
along with the frigid, whining wind and beat at Schumacher's ears. He slapped
his hands against his head and rammed the door shut with his shoulder. But the
cries continued, rising and falling, falling and rising, and he pressed his
hands ever more tightly. His lobes stung in protest and still he pressed.

He couldn't face it. He just
couldn't. Couldn't. Stumbling to his bed, he fell and rolled into the blankets,
seeking warmth to melt his frozen bones. But warmth didn't come. His teeth
chattered. His body quivered violently, and even his hands couldn't block out
those chilling sounds.

The elephant returned to his door,
and he scrunched deeper into the blankets. No matter what, he wouldn't answer.
Maybe it would go away.

Finally he heard a voice—imagined
it came from a hungry sucker.

"Maybe he's already down
there."

Another voice agreed and the
elephant retreated.

Schumacher wept in relief and soon
his trembling eased. He looked up, realized what he had done.

He was ruined.

But at least he was still alive.

* *
*

"Look at me, look at me, look
at me, look."

Lily's singsong carried above the
heads of the dogs and rang in Dana's ears. Steadfast, Dana kept her eyes on the
sinking, fading moon and called the next stanza. Her arms ached from reaching
up, her wounded shoulder throbbed, and cold tears streaked down her frozen
face. Her robes had long ago fallen to the ground and her teeth chattered. She
was growing weak.

"Speed, speed, speed,"
she ordered. "Oh, blissful love."

Was it any use? Some time before,
Morgan had changed completely to a wolf. No trace of humanity remained. He lay
on his side, halfway between his howling dogs and the edge of the circle, body
convulsing horribly. His whimpers tore into Dana's soul. Soon the sun would
rise. She'd be trapped in this glen with these lethal creatures. Nothing
between her and them but a few drops of holy water and seven dogs.

"The Lady rolls on," she
mouthed, although each movement of her chapped lips was excruciating.

"Da-na-a-a," trilled
Lily. "I see into your heart and can give you its desires. Come out and I
shall make you one of us."

"Time grows short," said
Dana, trying to quell her rush of alarm. How had Lily known she'd once wanted
to be one of them?

"Da-na-a-a," Lily
repeated seductively. "I'll give you everything you've ever dreamed
of."

Involuntarily, Dana's eyes drifted
lower. She saw her tempter's coat shining silver in the fading firelight.
Behind her, Jorje paced in agitation.

Suddenly, Lily jerked her head,
caught Dana's gaze and held it.

"I know you're tired, Dana. So
tired. Cease your struggles now and come to me."

Dana lowered her arms. Lily was
right. Her every muscle ached with fatigue. It wouldn't be so bad being one of
them. Not so bad at all.

"Meet us in haste. Meet us in
haste," she intoned automatically. "Time grows short; meet us in
haste."

With each word, she took a step
forward, coming ever closer to the protecting line. "Yealanay, cawfanay,
nayfanay, may."

"Cease that loathsome
babbling!" screamed Lily.

At that very moment, Dana stumbled.
She looked down, breaking Lily's hold on her eyes, and saw a heap of crumpled
fur, then another. Why two? she wondered numbly. The text clearly said there
should only be one. Was that why the ritual wasn't working? Her spirits soared
with hope. With one swift movement, she bent, snatched up and hurled the robe.
It rose in a long furred sheet, then fell to cover Morgan's writhing body.

"Dana." Lily's voice
sliced through Dana's surge of will. Although she fought it, she could not stop
her head from rising. She saw her reflection in Lily's dark and scheming eyes.
Helplessly, she lifted a foot, replaced it on the ground outside the ring.

"Yes," Lily urged, her
voice as smooth as honey. "Come forth."

Dana lifted her other foot.

Lily stepped between Fenris and
Aphrodite. Abruptly, the dogs stopped howling. The bird screeched a shrill
alarm.

* *
*

Rutherford looked through the
formation of men and women lining up at the trailhead and searched for the
captain, but found him nowhere. The yowls had stopped, at least for the moment,
but that only scared him more than ever. He thought then of Charlie Lonetree's
horrifying interpretation of his attacker and of Schumacher's hidden but still
transparent fears.

"I think we should start
without him," he advised the sergeant standing next to him, wishing like
hell he hadn't said it.

"Yes," replied the
officer, who then marched to the front of the line, shouting, "Let's go!
Let's go!"

As the wilderness expert,
Rutherford took a place beside the sergeant. From somewhere in the distance, he
thought he heard the motor of an approaching helicopter, but the faint sound
grated on his nerves rather than soothing them. They had thousands of
candle-watts of power, what with all the lanterns and flashlights, but it only
served to darken the shadows, and make the towering pines look like hulking
monsters. The bare-branched birches rattled ominously in the heightened wind.

Still, a hiker was out there,
apparently in mortal danger, not from some supernatural creature as Lonetree
and the captain would insist, but most likely from some human monster he'd
prefer to avoid. Rutherford took a step onto the trailhead and two dozen men
and women began to move behind him. Would they make it in time? Judging by the
deadly silence that now cloaked the night, he didn't think so.