The Howling II

7

HE KNOCKED LIGHTLY at the door of the trailer. Inside, the bolt scraped back and in a moment the door opened. Marcia reached out her hands to him and helped him inside. Roy clung to her and felt some of the woman's strength flow into his exhausted body. He stepped back after a minute and looked at her. Somehow, after she had gone through one of the agonizing transformations, Marcia looked her most beautiful. The silver-streaked hair fell loose to her shoulders. Deep fires glowed in the green eyes. Roy's breath caught in his throat.

"Lie down, my lover," she said, "and let me make you comfortable."

He let her lead him to the bed. It was freshly made with crisp linen, the quilted comforter turned back neatly. Roy sank into the bed and closed his eyes. Marcia's hand was cool and soft on his forehead. In a half-dream, he felt her undo the buttons and ease the clothes from his body. He lay naked on the clean sheet as Marcia sponged him with a cool, aromatic liquid. He felt his tensed muscles gradually relax as the vitality flowed back into his body. He opened his eyes and smiled at her.

"You make me feel reborn," he said.

"I'll give you some tea," she said, "and soon you will feel even better."

He reached up and touched the undercurve of her breast. She leaned forward, letting the warm, round weight settle in his palm. Roy shifted his position on the bed as he felt his desire rise for the woman.

"We don't need the tea," he said.

Marcia placed her hand over his and pressed his fingers against her erect nipple. "The tea will be good for you, my darling. It will restore your body and make you strong."

She leaned down and kissed him lightly on the mouth, then walked over to the compact butane stove where a kettle of water boiled. She poured the scalding water over a powdering of herbs in the bottom of a heavy cup. She added a few drops of a thick brown liquid, and a spicy-sweet aroma filled the trailer.

Roy well remembered the first time he had drunk the wild, sweet brew. It was in the small house where Marcia had lived alone in the village of Drago. Afterward there had been sex more intense than anything he had known before. Throughout that afternoon and into the night he had made love to the green-eyed woman in ways he had never imagined. She had taken him with her to the extreme limits of his endurance, then with a final, crashing climax had left him utterly drained.

It was on that same night, as he walked through the forest to the house where Karyn waited, that the black she-wolf with the strange green eyes had run him down. As he lay helpless beneath the beast, the cruel teeth had bitten deep into his shoulder. Roy had been sure then he was going to die. His head was forced back, and he had not the strength to protect his throat. But then, incredibly, the wolf had pulled back and left him. He had staggered home in a daze. Soon he realized why he had been spared, and what it meant to survive the bite of a werewolf.

Marcia handed him the steaming cup. Roy inhaled deeply. The heady aroma made his eyes tear.

"Drink it down," she said softly.

Holding the cup in both hands, he drank the tea and felt the heat of it hit his stomach and radiate throughout his body. There was a soft singing in his ears.

Marcia rested her hand on his bare leg, letting her fingers curl down across his inner thigh. "I have a surprise for you."

"Really?" he said, smiling.

Her lips curved. "In a little while, but first I have something to tell you."

"Yes?"

"We are leaving here."

"I know. As soon as you are ready to travel."

"I am ready now. We are leaving today."

He frowned. "So soon?"

"Soon? I have waited three years. I am as well now as I will ever be."

"But there are arrangements to make — transportation — a place to stay- "

"The arrangements are taken care of," Marcia said. "I have reservations for us on a flight to Seattle out of San Francisco this evening. There will be a room there waiting for us, not far from where your Karyn now lives."

Roy propped himself up on an elbow. "You did all this without talking to me about it?"

Her fingers moved again on his thigh, slid up between his legs. "I know you aren't interested in tiresome details."

"Just the same, you could have told me."

Marcia guided the cup of tea to his lips, and he drank. "You're not having doubts about what we have to do?"

"No. Only — "

The long supple fingers worked on him. "Don't feel sorry for your Karyn. Remember, she was no wife to you, yet she gave herself freely to your supposed friend. Now she shares the bed of this man Richter. She has crippled me and cuckolded you. Now it is our turn."

Roy drank more of the powerful tea. Visions flashed through his mind of Karyn's slim, naked body convulsed with passion as some faceless man pounded into her.

"Yes," he whispered. "Our turn."

Marcia took the empty cup from his hand and placed it on the floor. She stood up and slipped the silky garment she was wearing off over her head. She let it fall to the floor and stood with her strong brown legs slightly apart, letting him eat her with his eyes. She came toward him slowly, her breasts swaying with each step.

Roy started to rise from the bed to meet her. She laid a hand on his shoulder and eased him back down. He lay back obediently, watching her. She moved his legs apart and knelt between them. Her head dipped forward and her hair brushed his thighs as her lips closed around him.

She made it last a full hour. Then, as they lay together and Roy dozed, voices outside the trailer roused them. Loud voices. Marcia pulled gently away from him and stood up, throwing a light robe over her shoulders. Roy, now fully awake, got up too. They went over and stood at the small window.

Marcia eased the green curtain aside enough for them to look out.

Outside, Ignacio, the leader of the gypsies, stood talking to a large, red-faced man. Sniffing nervously about their feet was a shaggy white dog.

"None of the people here would do a thing like that," Ignacio was saying. "I know them."

"Don't give me that crap," said the red-faced man. "There was a trail of blood from the spot where the calf was killed, leading right into your camp. People told me I was makin' a mistake letting gypsies stay on my property, but like a damn fool I didn't listen to 'em."

Ignacio's eyes flicked over toward the trailer where Roy and Marcia watched from behind the curtain. They glanced at each other, then returned their attention to the two men outside.

"I will ask among the people," Ignacio said. "If I find anyone here is responsible for this, he will be punished. Be sure of that."

"That calf was worth plenty," the farmer said.

"You can take the money the calf is worth out of the wages you pay us for working in your fields," Ignacio said.

"Well — " The farmer glowered around the motley collection of campers and trailers, as though trying to spot the culprit. "I guess that will be okay. But if this ever happens again — "

"I assure you it won't happen again."

"It sure as hell better not," said the farmer, "or next time I bring the sheriff with me."

He started to walk away, but turned back as though he were not yet satisfied. "It's bad enough to lose the calf, but the way it was done — Jesus. All ripped apart. What kind of a man would kill an animal that way?"

Ignacio had no answer, and the farmer clumped off toward the trail that led through the woods. At the edge of the trees he turned and whistled sharply. The dog broke off its investigation of the trailers and followed the man.

Ignacio remained standing where he was. He turned his head and stared long at the trailer where Marcia and Roy stood watching.

"He knows," Roy whispered.

"Of course he knows," said Marcia, "but he would never dare to act against us."

"Maybe not, but we shouldn't push him too far. I'll go out and tell him we're leaving."

"As you wish," Marcia said indifferently. "I'll gather the things we will want to take with us."

When Roy dressed and went out, he found Ignacio sitting on the rear step of the camper where he lived with his wife and small daughter. The gypsy's face darkened as Roy approached.

Roy spoke awkwardly. "Ignacio, I–I wanted to tell you we are leaving."

"Leaving?" The gypsy could not keep the eagerness out of his voice. "For good?"

"Yes. You've been very kind letting us stay with you while Marcia was — ill. I'm grateful."

"You owe me nothing."

"She is better now, so well be on our way."

Ignacio nodded gravely. He offered no words of regret at their leaving. Roy knew well why they had been allowed to stay, and Ignacio was not a man to waste false words of farewell.

"Goodbye," Roy said.

The gypsy studied him, the black eyes nearly hidden beneath the tangled brows.

"God help you," he said.