should be a full, uninterrupted night to let the tension ease and change back gradually. When it had to be forced and speeded up, the changes to the body were painful in the extreme.
However, there was no help for it now. Derak had a mission, and it was only partly complete. He had set himself the task of returning Malcolm to his own people before the boy could do irreparable harm to himself or others of his kind. If along the way he could destroy some human garbage like Abe Craddock, it would add pleasure to his task.
Derak's body shuddered. He ground his teeth against the pain. The internal organs shifted and jumped under his skin. His skeleton cracked as the bones returned to human form. The body hair vanished as though sucked back into the hide. The ears shrank and rounded off, the muzzle pulled in, the killing teeth receded into the harmless molars and incisors of a man.
Slowly, slowly, the pain eased. Derak moved, straightening his body, testing his limbs and extremities. He shivered with the cold on his naked flesh.
As he pulled his clothes back on, Derak froze at a sound from the road below and ducked behind a bush. The little orange car chugged into the clearing and stopped. The man from the city climbed out, bringing with him a half-case of beer and a crinkly bag of chips. Derak watched as the man laboured up the path with his burden toward the cabin. The wise thing would be to destroy him, but the blood lust was stilled, and Derak had no wish to kill now without reason.
He waited until the city man had lumbered past the bush where he crouched, then he loped silently down the trail to the car. The door was unlocked. He tore away a fibreboard panel beneath the dash and found the ignition wires.
At the top of the trail the man from the city had seen the shattered remnants of the door. He dropped the beer and the bag of chips and walked stiff-legged toward the cabin. Derak stripped the wires with a tough thumbnail and twisted them together.
By the time Louis Zeno staggered out of the cabin, white-faced, with his mouth agape in a silent scream, his little orange car was turning onto the road toward the town of Pinyon.
As he drove, Derak pulled tissues from a carton on the dash panel and wiped away what he could of the blood and mud from his face. He was a fastidious man, and it made him uncomfortable not to bathe after a killing. However, this time the change back had to be done so fast there was no time.
Derak's mind had not completely reoriented, and as soon as he had a chance, he pulled the car off into a sheltered spot alongside the road next to an Exxon station. He was startled to see only then that the backs of his hands were still thickly overgrown with hair. He tucked the hands away out of sight, leaned back in the seat, closed his eyes, and let himself slip into a light doze.
He awoke some time later, refreshed and alert. He rubbed his hands front and back to be sure that the change was now truly complete. Only then did he realize he had brought the little car to a stop almost directly across from the office of La Reina County's sheriff.
Derak immediately choked down an impulse to panic. If anyone were still looking for a man of his description after the wild werewolf tales that had clouded the killing of Dr Qualen, they would hardly expect him to be sitting in a car parked almost under the sheriffs nose.
Using mental techniques learned from those who had travelled his road before, Derak settled into a quiet watchfulness that had protected his kind through the ages.
A small, square car pulled into the parking area before the sheriffs office. A young woman got out. The doctor. Derak had followed closely the events in Pinyon, and he knew that she, of all the people here, was the most anxious to find Malcolm. If anyone could lead him to the boy, it would be she.
Derak slid lower in the driver's seat and watched as the young woman got out and went into the office.
Chapter Fifteen
Deputy Roy Nevins was alone in the sheriffs office when Holly entered. She barely recognized the man. Deputy Nevins's uniform was spotless and pressed, complete to the military creases in the shirt. His boots, belt, and holster were shined. He was freshly shaved, and had obviously just had a haircut. He was even making an effort to hold his stomach in.
'Morning, ma'am,' he said, getting to his feet. His speech seemed to have softened into more of a Western drawl.
Remarkable, Holly thought, what a touch of fame will do.
'Good morning, Roy. Is Gavin around?'
'The Sheriff and Deputy Fernandez are out on a call, ma'am. Left me in charge. Seems there's been some trouble down at the old Whitaker cabin.'
'Will you cut out the ma'am stuff, Roy? You make me feel like Dale Evans.'
The deputy grinned a little sheepishly. 'I just thought we ought to be a little more businesslike around here, what with all the reporters and television people and whatnot.'
'Well, I suppose it couldn't hurt. How soon do you expect Gavin back?'
'That's hard to say. Seems whoever it was made the phone call wasn't bein' very clear about what the trouble was at the cabin.'
Holly chewed at her lower lip. Why was there never a cop around when you needed one?
'Anything I can help you with?'
'It was just a message I wanted to give the Sheriff.'
'You're welcome to sit yourself down and wait for him.' Roy wheeled one of the unused swivel chairs over for her.
'No thanks, Roy, I'm in kind of a hurry. I'll leave him a note.'
She tore a page from Ramsay's calendar pad and wrote:
Gavin
I managed to find out where Dr Pastory's clinic is without getting in the way of any of your 'duly authorized police officers'.
I'll let you know when I've found Malcolm.
Good luck with your big murder investigation.
She read it over, then crumpled the page and threw it into the waste basket. Cheap sarcasm was not her style. On another calendar sheet she wrote:
Gavin
Dr Pastory's clinic is located in Bear Paw. I'm on my way up
there. I'll check with you as soon as I find anything.
Take care, Holly
She placed the note in the centre of his desk blotter, anchoring it with a stapler.
'Thanks, Roy,' she said. 'I'll see you.'
'Any time, ma'am,' he said, reaching for the brim of the hat he was not wearing. Then, grinning, 'Oops. I'm kinda getting into the habit, I guess.'
Before leaving the office Holly checked the big map tacked to one wall. It covered all of La Reina County and included parts of Los Angeles, Ventura, and Kern Counties as well. She located the tiny community of Bear Paw just on the other side of the Tehachapi Pass, beyond Clarion. She figured it as a two- to three-hour drive, depending on road conditions. There certainly wouldn't be much traffic between here and there.
She filled the tank of her little Rabbit across the road at Art Moore's station, then headed north. Holly's mind was filled with thoughts of what she was going to say to Wayne Pastory when she found him, and she did not pay any attention to the little orange car that pulled on to the road behind her and followed her out of town.
The roads were good all the way, although narrowing to a cramped two lanes as she left the state highway. It took her slightly less that two hours to reach the community of Bear Paw. Had she not been actively looking for it, the entire town would have been easy to miss.
There was the Bear Paw Ski Lodge, a faintly alpine A-frame building with the windows shuttered and a chain