I stared at the window’s finger-thick steel bars. I wanted to test their security. I itched to grip the bars and give them a firm shake, but I had installed them and I knew they were solid. Testing them would be giving in to the fear I refused to recognize. I closed the shutter, latched it, and then shut the window.
Half way back to the bed, the howl came again and before it had died, another answered.
Jesus, how many of those damn things are out there?
I glanced at the fireplace and considered the width of the flue. Stop it, I told myself. You’re scared of a couple werewolves. Fine, but they’re outside and you’re inside behind solid logs and iron bars. There’s no way they’re getting in and even if they did, you have a shotgun, fully loaded with silver buckshot.
I couldn’t deny that I was much more comfortable facing these creatures when Gail was by my side. I shook my head roughly and picked up my cup. The coffee was cold, but I drank it down and then refilled the cup. The coffee was a habit, not a need. There was no way I was going to fall asleep with Gail trussed up and close to changing. I finished the cup and set it aside. Bending over Gail, I could see no improvement or worsening. What was I looking for? Should I be looking for hair on her face or maybe her fingernails lengthening into claws?
Damn it, I should have asked her more about this business when I had a chance.
Okay, first thing tomorrow, she’s going to finish this Monster Hunting 101 briefing.
The outside door boomed as someone or something slammed into it hard enough to shake the log walls. I glanced toward the door, almost amused. Whatever had hit the door had probably broken bones with that hard an impact against the steel. If that was as bright as werewolves got, then I had nothing to worry about.
Something heavy landed on the roof.
I leapt to my feet, automatically flicking the shotgun’s safety off. I stood still, listening and trying to decide if the roof contained any weak points that the beasts could utilize.
A howl came from overhead and a pair of howls answered it from somewhere nearby.
“Son of a bitch.” I clicked the shotgun’s safety back on, set the gun aside, and drew my new Colt. I slipped the tactical light onto the rail, tightened the quick connect, and shone the light against the ceiling. Dad had constructed the interior with an open ceiling and the lower layer of the roof was beadboard pine. The rafters cast dancing shadows on the ceiling as I played the light around. I looked for weakness and found none.
I’d spent a lot of time and effort placing the bars on all the windows of the cabin and I had checked for other access points. Other than the chimney’s flue, which I had ruled out because of the narrow opening, there was a large ventilation fan in the back wall near the peak of the roof. It was nearly three feet across, but I had also installed iron bars over the outside of that opening. A pack of wolves was not coming in that way.
A werewolf howled again and Gail spasmed against her bonds. The howls had kicked whatever wolf spirit possessed her back into a struggle for control of Gail’s body. She thrashed against her bonds and the smell of burning skin came back.
I stared helplessly at Gail. I felt a need to do something, but what else could I do? I briefly considered stepping outside to shoot the beasts, but that was foolhardy when there were at least three of them. The Army had trained foolhardiness out of me and outside was a gamble way beyond foolhardiness.
I heard scratching.
I holstered the Colt and picked up the Mossberg. What were the damn things thinking?
The scratching continued and I moved silently across the room until I was sure I was directly under the noise. Did the animal think it could dig through the roof? That was stupid, besides the shingles; there was tarpaper, three-quarter inch plywood, a couple of inches of insulation, and the three-eighths inch beadboard. A damn wolf could not claw its way through that.
There was another thud and then two more in quick succession. A moment later, the scratching intensified. I heard material sliding down the slope of the roof.
“Ah, hell.” A chill filled my gut with unaccustomed dread. I glanced at Gail, werewolves and evil dead were easier to tolerate when you had an experienced hunter standing beside you. I walked back to the bed where Gail still writhed. I took out my electronic earplugs, turned them on, and inserted them. The sound of scratching actually sounded louder. I checked Gail’s jacket and found her own earplugs. She snapped her head from side to side when I tried to insert them and I had to hold her forehead still to get them in. I finished and lifted my hand from her head.
Her eyes opened and yellow irises started out at me. Her lips drew back from teeth that were more canine than human. With a snap, she bit through the rubber bit. She spit the pieces out and lunged at me. I flinched back even though the ropes and bindings still held her to the mattress.
“Aw, Gail, come on. You gotta help me a little here.”
She snarled and twisted against her bonds. Then she froze, stared up at the ceiling, and let out a long howl.
The scratching paused for an instant and then intensified.
I looked from Gail to the remaining items on the table. There was
