permission. He’d always been too stubborn to bow to any werewolf, but he remembered the feeling. Every instinct Heather had was probably telling her not to come inside. Earl understood how much courage that took, even if she didn’t. “Who owns this place?”
His voice seemed to startle Heather back to reality. She swallowed hard. “Used to belong to the Quinn family. The mine owners, before they got sued into oblivion after the big cave-in.” She was gripping her shotgun so hard that her gloves creaked on the forearm. “It was empty for a long time. Then this guy from out of town bought it last summer and fixed it up as a vacation home.” She scowled as Earl shined his light around the mostly empty reception room. “I never met him. He keeps to himself when he is around, lives alone.”
“He got a name?”
“Smith, I think,” she answered as they tracked Aino’s bobbing light around the corner and into the living room.
“Uh-huh. I bet it is.”
“The local girls talked about him a lot. He was single, supposed to be good-looking, apparently rich, day trader or something from back East, but he wasn’t the social type.”
Earl was still thinking about how the Alpha had called him father, but for the life of him, Earl couldn’t recall anyone that he’d ever spread the curse to without having dealt with the repercussions immediately. It was possible that maybe Rocky would have damaged those memories, but there weren’t any gaps in his journal sufficient to explain this. Maybe there would be something here that would clue him in as to who he was dealing with.
The living room was huge, with a vaulted ceiling that opened up to a second floor. Aino was waiting for them by the dead fireplace. “We came through here and spotted a couple of RVs parked round back. The plates were from out’a state, so I figured there’d be guests stayin’ here. Nobody answered, so we broke down the door and came on in. That’s when I saw this…” Aino aimed his light at the far wall, illuminating a monstrosity. Heather gasped and took an involuntary step back.
“Damn.” Earl whistled. “That ain’t something you see every day.”
The skeleton was massive. It would have been too tall to fit in any room with a regular ceiling. The shadow the dark bones cast made it appear even bigger. The teeth gleamed white. One clawed hand was held out, palm open, as if warning them to come no closer. Standing on its rear legs, it towered over them, ugly as sin.
“Mr. Smith had some weird tastes in home decor.” Puzzled, Earl approached the bones cautiously, knowing from experience that just because something was dead didn’t mean it might not try to murder you. Yet it was not some fierce undead, just a bunch of bones held together with stainless steel rods. It was a museum-quality display. The skull leered at him, grinning with long teeth, that despite their condition, still appeared razor sharp.
“At first I thought this guy had his-self a dinosaur-you know rich folks. But that ain’t no dinosaur, now, is it, eh? It’s got a wolf’s head. Poached and skinned enough of the things to tell,” Aino said. “Oh, don’t give me that look, Heather. What’re you gonna do? Cite me? Look at the skull. That’s a wolf’s skull on a man-shaped body. Sound familiar?”
“It’s a werewolf, all right.” Earl circled the stand, studying how the bones came together. “Just not like any I’ve ever seen.”
“Because it’s the size of a moose.”
“It ain’t just the size. You should see a warg some time.”
“What’s a warg?” Aino asked.
“A real pain in the ass to potty train,” Earl muttered. He lit a cigarette as he paced around the fossil, scowling at the oddity. You can’t study monsters for a century and not learn a thing or two about biology. These looked like werewolf remains, but they were wrong in more ways than just the size. The claws were thicker and too curved. The jaws were longer. The joints were wrong. Though werewolves could run on all fours for short bursts, they were primarily bipeds. Though the stand had this thing upright, it appeared it would be much more comfortable with all four paws on the ground. “I’ve seen a lot of monsters in my day, but I don’t have a clue what this thing is.”
Heather spoke up for the first time. “It’s old.”
“Probably.” Earl examined the creature’s outstretched arm. The bones were remarkably thick. If it had the regenerative abilities of a werewolf, it would have been a nightmare to fight. “Hard to tell when it died.”
“No, I mean it’s really old. I can sm-” Heather glanced over at Aino. “I just can tell. This thing is ancient.”
Earl knew her nose was telling her things far beyond her logical comprehension. “How old do you think?”
“Well, I don’t actually know.”
There was knowledge, and then there was instinct. “Give me your best guess.”
Heather seemed embarrassed. “I’ve got a feeling this thing was hunting wooly mammoths, if you get my drift.”
Not for the first time, Earl found himself missing his werewolf senses. He’d forgotten just how unaware humans were about the world around them. If only he could-Earl caught himself. Don’t be an idiot. After longing to be free of the curse for a lifetime, now by some miracle he’d got his wish and only a few hours later he was whining about it. Hypocrite.
Turning his attention back to the task at hand, Earl followed the creature’s forearm down to the extended claws. Just like a werewolf. This was no paw: it was a hand, fingers, and an opposable thumb. It took him a moment to realize what was wrong.
There were only three fingers. The pinky was missing. It wouldn’t seem so odd, except that the skeleton was remarkably complete. The bone had been sheared off, but he couldn’t tell if that had been before or after it had died.
A fragment of his dream broke loose. The cigarette fell forgotten from his lips. It was as if the dead bones were covered in muscle and sinew, skin and fur. It was a living, breathing monstrosity, thrashing against the thick ropes that bound it to heavy stones. A lone warrior stepped forward to chain the monster’s soul, while an army of men pulled on the ropes, dragging the mighty claw up, for the warrior to place his own palm against it.
He blinked, and the vision was gone. Hesitantly, Earl extended his hand until his palm touched the cold bone and steel rods. It was the image of the amulet. It was the beginning.
“Holy shit…” Earl stepped away. He rubbed his face in his hands. This wasn’t some mere museum decoration. This was a sacred object. For the Alpha, this was holy ground.
“What is it, Harbinger?” Heather asked quickly.
“It’s the first one,” he whispered. Just like the images from when the Alpha had torn the curse from his soul; this was the beginning. He turned toward Heather. “This is how the curse started!”
“So, it’s a caveman werewolf?” Heather asked.
“No. This was never a human being. People think of werewolves as a cross between a man and a wolf, but they’re not. The behavior is wrong. The features are wrong. It’s a cross between man and something, all right, but something different than a wolf. Similar, but something older, stronger. Something extinct. Something worse. ”
Aino scratched his stubbly face. “I don’t get what you’re saying.”
Heather instinctively knew. “This thing started as a wolf, but got twisted. Corrupted somehow.”
“There are other shapeshifters out there. All sorts. Man and animal combined, but none are near as savage as the werewolf.” Earl finally stopped and stared right into the ocular cavity of the huge skull. “Look at it! It’s-”
“Beautiful.”
The voice had come from above. Earl spun around as Aino’s light flickered up. Nikolai Petrov leaned over the upstairs railing, haggard, with dark circles under his wild eyes. Earl reached for his Thompson but knew it was too late. The Russian gave a small, fatalistic smile as he casually pointed his strange rifle at Earl’s face. “Place your weapons on the ground. Slowly.”
Nikolai had the drop on them. Earl complied, sliding the sling over his head and putting the Thompson on the carpet. He must have snuck in an upstairs window. Distracted by the bones, none of them had even heard him coming. Heather and Aino were hesitating, but Earl shook his head at them. With Nikolai’s inhuman reaction times, they’d be dead before either could lift their guns.
“Sidearms as well.” Nikolai was wearing a bloodstained coat and a shirt that had been torn to rags. The ribcage was visible through his too-pale skin. Nikolai was little more than a walking skeleton. Their battle had taken a fierce toll. “You should have finished me when you had the opportunity, Harbinger.”
Cursing himself, Earl tossed his revolvers on the floor and slowly raised his hands to a position of surrender.
