The Wolf Gift (The Wolf Gift Chronicles 1)

"We,ll address this question when we,ve had more time to process the evidence."

So tell them about the abundant lysozyme in the saliva, Reuben thought, but of course you won,t. That would only exacerbate the hysteria. And he,d left no saliva evidence last night, just whatever might have come from the claws with which he,d slashed his victims.

One thing was clear. People weren,t fearing for their lives with the Man Wolf. But nobody, or so the radio call-ins seemed to indicate, believed the Man Wolf had actually spoken words to the North Beach victim and witness.

Reuben was about to shut the radio off when the news came in that the body of one little eight-year-old Goldenwood Academy student had been found two hours ago in the surf at Muir Beach. Cause of death: blunt force trauma.

There was a press conference in progress at the sheriff,s headquarters in San Rafael. It sounded like a lynching.

"Until we have a concrete plan for the return of the children and the teachers," said the sheriff, "we cannot accede to the kidnappers, demands."

Enough. Reuben couldn,t take any more. He turned off the radio. A little girl dead on Muir Beach. So these "tech geniuses" had done that, had they? Simply murdered one of their numerous victims to show they meant business? Of course. When you have forty-five potential victims, why not?

He was in a fury.

It was five o,clock, and dark, and the rain showed no sign of slacking. And the voices of the world were very far away. In fact, he heard no voices. That meant, obviously, that he could no more hear over an infinite distance than an animal. But what were the actual limits of his powers? He had no idea.

Little girl found dead in the surf.

That was all the more reason, wasn,t it, to conclude that the other victims were not very far away at all.

Abruptly, he came to the top of the final rise, and in the beam of his headlamps he saw the enormous house looming ahead of him, a giant phantom of itself in the rain, far more grand than memory had allowed him to envision it. There were lights in its windows.

He was awed by the sight of it, awed by the moment.

But he was also miserable. He couldn,t stop thinking about the children - about that little girl on that cold beach.

As he pulled up to the front door, the outside lamps went on, illuminating not only the steps and the door itself, but flashing upwards on the fa?ade at least as far as the top of the second-floor windows. What a glorious place it was.

Oh, how very far he was from the innocent young guy who,d first crossed that threshold with Marchent Nideck.

The door opened and the handyman appeared in a yellow rain slicker and came down to help Reuben with his bundles and suitcase.

The big room already had a roaring fire. And Reuben could smell the rich aroma of coffee.

"I,ve got some supper for you on the stove," said the handyman, a tall lean gray-eyed person, very weathered and wrinkled, with sparse iron-colored hair and a colorless but agreeable smile. He had one of those pleasant, accentless California voices that gave no hint of his home base or origins. "My wife brought that up here for you. She didn,t cook herself, of course. She got it at the local Redwood House down in the town. And some groceries, too. She took the liberty - ."

"I,m so pleased," said Reuben at once. "I thought of everything but food, thank you. And I was absolutely crazy to think I could get here by four o,clock. I am so sorry."

"No bother," the man said. "My name,s Leroy Galton and everybody calls me Galton. My wife is Bess. My wife,s lived here all her life, used to cook and clean up here now and then when there were parties." He took the suitcase from Reuben, and hefting the bundles in one hand he headed back the hallway towards the stairs.

Reuben felt the breath go out of him. They were nearing the spot where he,d struggled with Marchent,s attackers, the spot where he,d nearly died.

He hadn,t remembered the dark oak wainscoting. No bloodstains were visible. But some seven feet of carpet stretching from the stairs to the kitchen door was obviously brand-new. It did not match the wide Oriental runner on the stairs.

"You,d never know it even happened!" declared Galton triumphantly. "We scrubbed those floorboards. There must have been two inches of old wax on them anyway. You would just never know."

Reuben stopped. No memory attached itself to the spot. All he remembered was darkness, and he slipped into the darkness, compulsively reliving the attack, as though he was making the Stations of the Cross in St. Francis at Gubbio Church on Good Friday. Teeth like needles driving into his neck and skull.

Did you know what would happen to me when you let me live?

Galton let loose with a long, truly awe-inspiring string of cliches and platitudes to the effect that life goes on, life belongs to the living, these things happen, nobody,s safe, you know, you never knew why things happened, one day you would know why things happened, and even the best boys can go bad these days with the dope the way it is, and we just have to get over these things and move on.

"I,ll tell you this much," he said suddenly in a low, confidential voice. "I know what did it. I know what got you. And it,s a miracle it let you live."

The hair stood up on the back of Reuben,s neck. His heart was thudding in his ears. "You know what did it?" he asked.

"Mountain lion," said Galton, narrowing his eyes and lifting his chin. "And I know which mountain lion too. She,s been in these parts too long."

Reuben shook his head. He felt a surge of relief. Back to the old mystery. "It couldn,t have been," he said.

"Oh, son, we all know it was that mountain lion. She,s out there somewhere now with her litter. Three times I,ve gotten a clear shot at her and missed. She took my dog from me, young man. Now you never knew my dog. But my dog was no ordinary dog."

Reuben felt a surge of relief at all this, because it was utterly off the mark.

"My dog was the most beautiful German shepherd I ever saw. Panzer was his name, and I reared that dog from a six-week-old pup myself and trained him never to take a morsel of food except from my hand, gave him all the commands in German, and he was the finest dog I ever had."

"And the mountain lion got him," Reuben murmured.

The old man lifted his chin again and nodded solemnly. "Dragged him off, right out of my yard down there and into the woods, and there was hardly anything left of him when I found him. She did that. She and her litter, and that litter,s almost grown. I went after her, went after the brood. I,ll get her, permit or no permit! They can,t stop me. Just a matter of time. But you be careful if you go walking in these woods. She,s got her young cats with her. I know she has, she,s teaching them to hunt, and you have to be careful at sundown and at dawn."