The Howling II

18

THE AIRPORT AT Mazatlan was small by United States standards. Karyn Richter unbuckled her seat belt as the Aeronaves 727 rolled to a stop. From the window by her seat she watched with amazement the number and variety of aircraft landing, taking off, taxiing, waiting, and just sitting there. There were sleek new jets, old DC-3s, corporate Lears, private Cessnas and Pipers, and even a battered old open-cockpit biplane. Karyn could see no pattern to their movements, but she assured herself that somewhere a control tower was directing the traffic. Nevertheless, compared to big, orderly LAX, it was like a downtown intersection on Christmas Eve.

When the door was opened she joined the other passengers and filed out and down the stairway that had been rolled up to the plane. She crossed the expanse of black tarmac to the terminal building.

Inside it was hot and crowded. Over the noise of arriving and departing passengers announcements rattled continually over the PA system loudspeakers, first in Spanish, then English. Karyn located the baggage-claim counter and after an hour was finally reunited with her bag. She carried it out of the terminal building and set it down on the sidewalk. The air outside was fresh and cool with a hint of the sea, and she inhaled gratefully.

"Carry your suitcase, lady?"

The voice close behind her startled Karyn. She turned to see a tall, pockmarked youth grinning at her through bad teeth. The end of a wooden match protruded from one corner of his mouth.

"No, thank you," she said, and turned away.

"Ah, come on, lady, you don' wan' to carry that heavy thin' all by yourself."

Karyn looked pointedly up the street, trying to ignore him.

"I'm real strong. I can carry anythin' you got. Wan' to see my muscle?"

"I don't need anything carried." She tried to keep the apprehension from showing in her voice.

The youth picked up her bag and backed off, hefting it. "See? It's not too heavy for me."

"Please," Karyn said, trying to sound authoritative, "put that down. It belongs to me."

"Ah, lady, you don' wan' to talk like that."

"Ay, chico!" A deep male voice snapped off the words like a whip. The startled boy looked over Karyn's shoulder, and she turned too to see who had spoken.

A square-bodied man with an enormous Zapata moustache glared at the boy. He spoke in hard-edged street Spanish, punctuating his words by jabbing a finger down at the sidewalk.

The boy's insolent grin fell away. He set the bag down at Karyn's feet and started to back off.

The stranger spoke again in Spanish. His voice was soft, but the words were unmistakably a command.

The boy's eyes shifted over to Karyn. "I'm sorry, lady," he muttered, then slipped away into the crowd coming out of the building.

"Permit me to offer apology for my city, senora," said the man with the moustache. "That boy was a ruffian, a bad one. We are not all like him. There are many good people in Mazatlan."

"I'm sure there are," Karyn said. "Thank you."

The man gestured toward a mud-spattered, ten-year-old Plymouth parked at the curb. The white painted letters TAXI were barely visible on the door under a coating of dirt. "The taxi of Luis Zarate is at your service, senora. Also guide service, if you desire."

"Well — I could use a taxi," Karyn said. "Can you take me to the Palacio del Mar Hotel?"

"Con mucho gusto, senora," said Luis Zarate. With a flourish he swept open the rear door of the Plymouth and gestured Karyn inside. He carried her bag to the rear and put it in the trunk, which he closed by tying the lid to the bumper with a frayed length of electric cord.

"The Palacio is a beautiful hotel," he said when he was in position behind the wheel. "It is old and comfortable, and not so big that they forget about you."

"That's nice," Karyn said, without really listening.

Luis started the car and they pulled away from the curb with a grinding of gears and the roar of an unmuffled engine. As he drove, Luis proudly pointed out the sights of the city — the twin golden spires of the cathedral, the old Farol lighthouse looming off-shore, the busy fishing docks — until he sensed that Karyn was not paying attention.

"The senora is troubled?" he said.

Karyn looked up sharply. "What's that?"

Luis Zarate's dark, liquid eyes regarded her seriously from the rear-view mirror. "Forgive me, senora, I do not mean to speak out of my place. But I am a gypsy, comprende, and through my blood I have a gift for knowing when someone is in trouble."

"Really?" Karyn said. "You're a gypsy?"

Luis' eyes twinkled at her. "Well, a little bit. My great-grandmother on my mother's side was said to be a gypsy. Anyway, it talkes only a little such blood to make you a gypsy, no?"

"I suppose so," Karyn said, smiling.

They drove on in silence for a mile before the taxi driver spoke again. "The senora is visiting Mazatlan all alone?"

Karyn answered carefully. "No, I–I'm meeting a friend at the hotel."

"It is well. Mazatlan is a beautiful city, and visitors are welcome, but as you have seen, there are bad people here as there are in all cities. It is not wise for a lady to travel too much alone." He was silent for a moment, then added, "You will be here long?"

"I don't know," Karyn said. "Not very."

"Forgive me," said Luis with a little shrug. "I ask too many questions. I jus' thought maybe the senora could use a guide. Someone who will charge you a fair price, and who knows Mazatlan and the jungles and hills behind the city like the lines in his own hand."

Karyn could not suppress a smile. "Someone like Luis Zarate?"

"Si, senora. Forgive my boast, but it is the truth."

"I appreciate the offer," Karyn said, "but I don't think I'll be doing much sightseeing."

"Eh, bien, you will keep Luis Zarate in mind, yes?"

"Yes," Karyn told him, "I will."

Luis drove on out of the city and along a stretch where tree branches with broad green leaves overhung the road on both sides. They turned back toward the sea then and followed the lip of a bluff for a short distance before starting down to the crescent of beach belonging to the Palacio del Mar. Karyn was pleased by the symmetry of the white main building with its red-tiled roof and the cabanas, like miniature copies, extending in a curved row on either side like arms embracing the beach.

As Luis drove along the roadway skirting the beach Karyn looked for Chris Halloran, but did not see him. The closer she came, the more her nerves jumped. There were so many questions. What would be his reaction to seeing her? Would he reject her? Was it fair for her to come back into his life bringing a horror that was no longer his concern? For a moment Karyn had a wild impulse to order the taxi around and head back to the airport. But then where would she go? There was no place left. There was no one else to go to.

"Senora?"

At the sound of the driver's voice, Karyn realized they had come to a stop before the hotel's wide Spanish-style veranda.

Luis jumped out and opened the door for her with another flourish. He retrieved her bag from the tied-down trunk and followed as Karyn walked up the steps and into the tiled lobby of the old hotel. She crossed to the registration desk, where a light-complexioned man with a high arched nose watched her with a small professional smile. A metal plate on the counter before him spelled out in raised letters: J. Davila, Manager.

"Good afternoon, senora," he said.

Karyn nodded to acknowledge the greeting. "I'm looking for a gentleman I understand is registered here. Mr. Halloran."

A shadow flickered across the manager's eyes. "Ah, yes, Senor Halloran. You are — a relative?"

"No, I'm a friend. If he's registered here, I'd like to see him, please."

Senor Davila checked his registration cards in a businesslike, manner. He pulled one of the cards out of the file and examined it. "Yes, Mr. Halloran is one of our guests."

"May I have his room number?"

"He is registered in Cabana Number 7."

"Thank you. Is there a phone I can use to call him?"

"I am sorry, there are no telephones in the cabanas."

"Then if you'll show me where it is, I'll go and find him myself."

"Ah, but that would be of no use. Senor Halloran is not in his cabana now."

Karyn's temper began to fray. "Well, where is he? I came here to see Mr. Halloran, and I don't have time to waste."

Luis Zarate stepped up to the desk. "Permit me, senora," he said, then spoke briefly in Spanish to the man at the desk. When he had finished, the hotel manager turned to Karyn with an apologetic smile.

"Senor Halloran is presently at lunch in our dining room," he said.

"Thank you," Karyn said coolly. "Now if you will just tell me where the dining room is — "

Davila looked uncomfortable. "I am obliged to tell the senora that Senor Halloran is not lunching alone."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, so he has a girl with him. It makes no difference to me. What did you think — that I was his wife?"

"One is never sure," said Davila. The relief was evident in his expression. "Permit me to show you to the dining room, senora."

"Do you wish me to wait?" asked Luis.

"No," Karyn said, "I don't think so." She paid the fare and added a generous tip.

"Muchas gracias," said the taxi driver. "You will not forget, if you need any form of assistance while you are in Mazatlan, no one is better prepared to deliver than Luis Zarate."

"I won't forget," Karyn assured him. Luis deposited her bag behind the registration desk and walked back out the entrance. Davila came around the desk and Karyn followed him out through the lobby and beneath an archway into the dining room.

It was a big bright room with sunlight streaming in through tall windows along one wall. The tables were widely spaced, covered with clean white linen and set with gleaming silver.

It took Karyn only a moment to find Chris. He hadn't changed much, she thought. Still the same firm features, the unruly brown hair, and as always a deep tan. He was a touch more serious around the eyes, maybe. But who wouldn't be, after two years?

Chris was seated facing Karyn, but not looking in her direction. On the near side of the table sat a girl with long, shiny auburn hair. From the way the girl sat erect and held her head cocked to one side, Karyn could tell she was young and lively. Karyn was surprised at the pang of jealousy.

The hotel manager started to lead the way across the room to Chris's table.

"Never mind," Karyn said. "I see him."

She walked alone toward the table. When she was ten feet away Chris looked up and saw her. Ever since she had left Los Angeles, Karyn had tried to prepare for this moment when she and Chris Halloran faced each other again after two years apart. However, she was not ready for the montage of memories, good and bad, that flashed across her mind. Chris's face reflected many of the same emotions she felt, with the added shock of seeing her so unexpectedly. He sat frozen for a moment, then rose from his chair.

"Karyn. What — what a surprise."

"Hello, Chris."

"It's been a while."

"Yes. It has."

They stood for a moment looking at each other, with a thousand things to say, and nothing that could be said.

The girl sitting at the table set her water glass down with a distinct thump. Chris looked down suddenly, as though surprised at finding her there.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Karyn, this is Audrey Vance. Audrey, an old friend of mine, Karyn Beatty."

"It's Karyn Richter now."

"Oh. I see. Excuse me."

Audrey looked up from her chair with a dazzling smile. She ran her eyes over Karyn appraisingly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Richter. I haven't met many of Chris's old friends."

Karyn wondered if she detected a faint emphasis on old. "Please call me Karyn," she said.

Chris glanced warily from one woman to the other. "Have you had lunch, Karyn?" he said quickly. "'Won't you join us?"

"Yes, please do," said Audrey.

"I ate on the plane," Karyn said, "but I could use a cup of coffee."

Chris pulled out a chair for her and signaled the waiter.

"I don't think you'll like the coffee in Mexico, Karyn," Audrey said. "It always tastes like they left it brewing overnight. Chris and I usually have the tea."

"That's all right," Karyn said, returning the younger woman's smile. "I like my coffee strong."

The waiter brought a muddy black brew in a heavy mug. Karyn sipped at it and made a show of enjoying the taste.

For the next few minutes Chris made an awkward attempt at small talk while Karyn responded politely and noncommittally. Audrey ate in silence, alert for any vibrations between Chris and Karyn.

Finally Chris ran out of inconsequential remarks. He said, "I, uh, don't suppose you're down here by sheer coincidence."

"No," Karyn said. "I came looking for you."

"Well, you found me."

"It couldn't have been easy," Audrey put in.

"It wasn't," Karyn admitted.

An edgy minute of silence dragged by.

"Are you staying here at the hotel?" Audrey asked finally, holding her smile in place.

"I'm not sure yet," Karyn said. Abruptly she turned to Chris. "I have to talk to you."

"I suppose that means alone," Audrey said, her smile gone brittle.

"If you don't mind too much," Karyn said. "I'm sure you can spare him for a few minutes."

"Oh, I suppose I can." Audrey stood up and stretched her lithe young body. She walked behind Chris's chair and traced a forefinger along the back of his neck. "I'll be in our room, darling."

Chris's eyes followed her as she walked out.

"Pretty girl," Karyn said when they were alone.

"Yes," Chris said, dismissing the subject. "What's happened?"

Karyn looked around the dining room. The orderliness of the place and the well-dressed, well-mannered guests enjoying lunch seemed inappropriate for what she had to tell.

"Can we go somewhere else?"

"Sure." Chris signed the check and they walked out of the hotel and down across the beach. They passed the somnolent sunbathers and continued to the wet, packed sand at the water's edge. They walked on to where the sandy beach ended and there were rocks in the surf, and the jungle grew right down to the sea. They sat down on a big rock and watched the incoming waves churn into a green and white froth.

"Do you remember the fire at Drago?" Karyn said, looking out to sea.

"Could I ever forget it?"

"And afterward, how we heard the howling and knew that not all the wolves had died?"

"We don't know that for sure, Karyn. What we heard might have been coyotes or something, and not those — creatures from Drago."

Karyn shook her head. "No, it was the werewolves. I know, because they've come for me."

As calmly as she could, Karyn told him about the things that had happened since she first had the feeling of being watched, less than a month ago in Seattle. She told of seeing Roy in the shopping mall, of the death of Mrs. Jensen, of the flight to her parents' home in Los Angeles and the signs that the wolves had followed her there, too.

Chris sat for a long moment when she had finished her story. Finally he said, "And you think one of them who's come for you is Roy?"

"I'm sure of it. I saw him."

"You couldn't be mistaken?"

"No. And that woman, Marcia Lura, is one of them too."

"Are there any more?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. Just the two of them."

There was another heavy pause before Chris spoke again. "All right, what do you want me to do?"

Karyn turned away suddenly, trying not to cry. "I–I don't know, Chris. I came here because I didn't have anyone else. I can't fight them alone."

Her control crumbled then and she began to sob. Tears spilled freely down her cheeks. Chris put an arm around her and eased her head down on his shoulder.

The words came tumbling out between sobs. "This isn't fair to you, Chris. This isn't your fight. You don't owe me anything. I ran away from my husband and our little boy because I was afraid that if I stayed they'd be hurt. Now I've come here and probably put you in danger. I'm so sorry. I just didn't know what else to do." She made an effort to pull free. "I'll leave now, before anyone gets hurt. I'll go back to — I'll go somewhere. I should never have come."

Chris pulled her head back against him. "Cut it out. Of course you had to come to me. There's nobody else who knows these creatures exist, who has seen what they can do. Now settle down, and we'll think of something."

Karyn relaxed and let herself lean against him. Slowly her sobs quieted. She sat up and borrowed his handkerchief to dry her eyes.

"Is there anything we can do, Chris? Can we really fight them?"

"We fought them before," he said. "We just didn't finish the job. Do you think they've followed you here yet?"

"I haven't seen any signs, but they seem to know my movements."

"Well, let's assume we have a little time, anyway. We'll get you checked into the hotel now, and tomorrow we'll start making plans."

They stood up together, and for a moment each looked deeply into the other's eyes. Chris's arms went around her, and Karyn without thinking pressed her body against him. He kissed her long and deeply, and she could feel him becoming aroused.

It was Chris who stepped back first. He said, "Let's go see about getting you a room."

They walked back across the beach to the hotel without speaking.

Senor Davila, the manager, was all gracious attention now. "Ah, senora, you are in luck. This is our busy time of the year, but we do have one late cancellation. Cabana Number 12. I can put you in there."

"Which one is that?" Karen asked.

"It is at the far end of the row where Senor Halloran has his."

"You have nothing here in the main building?"

"I am sorry, senora."

"That's all right. I'll take it."

Chris squeezed her arm. "I'd better go and square things with Audrey. I think she's a little ticked off at being left alone. We'll see you at dinner."

Karyn completed her registration, and a handsome boy of about seventeen, who introduced himself as Roberto, carried her bag along the path to her cabana. Inside it was not lavish, but it was clean. There was a double bed, bureau, night table, and two chairs and a settee of wicker. Roberto showed her the small closet and the bathroom, and demonstrated how to open the window and operate the heater. Karyn tipped the boy and promised to ask for him personally if there was anything she needed.

As Roberto went out, a young maid with sparkling eyes and lush, moist lips came in with fresh towels. A look flashed between the two young people that told Karyn they were much more than friends.

When the girl left Karyn kicked off her shoes and stretched out on the bed. She closed her eyes and let her mind drift, steering it away, for now, from the dark things she wanted to avoid. An hour later she sat up feeling refreshed and thinking maybe everything would be all right.

She soaked in a hot tub, then took a cool shower and dressed in a light blue knit outfit, which, she knew, showed off her figure. When Chris and Audrey came to take her to dinner, the look in the girl's eyes told Karyn she had chosen well.

During the meal Karyn's feeling of well-being slipped away. The conversation was perfunctory and strained. She could tell there had been an argument between Chris and Audrey, and it made her uncomfortable. As soon as she could, Karyn excused herself, saying she was tired and wanted to go to bed early.

Back in her room Karyn checked the locks on the windows and the door. She turned on all the lights, but the bulbs were of low wattage and did not drive the shadows out of the corners. The cabana cooled off quickly once the sun was down, and Karyn turned up the heater while she got ready for bed.

The sheets were clean and starchy, the pillows thinner than she liked, Karyn lay for a long time in the dark, listening to the whisper of the surf and the night cries from the jungle. She drifted at last into an uneasy sleep.

The late flight south from Los Angeles banked into a gentle turn and began its descent to scattered lights of Mazatlan, nestled between the black jungle and the black ocean. Back in the tourist section, a broad-shouldered man with pale hair dozed fitfully in his too-narrow seat. Beside him at the window a woman gazed down at the expanding lights of the city. Her eyes smoldered with deep green fires. Unconsciously she touched the streak of white that ran through her midnight hair.