Paradigms Lost (49 page)

“Naturally, you knew who and what everyone in the town was, and Mansfield made a perfect target—vital to the town’s functioning, but wouldn’t die in that all-too-telltale stony way. By the time the wolves stopped panicking at my presence and the silver evidence, I’d be dead. Maybe. You didn’t have that much to lose, since you planned on settling down here to eat anyway.”

He hung his head. “I’m sorry about that. Really. But you’re right, I just . . . what’s your idiom?
Freaked
, that’s it. After uncounted thousands of years, I was finally, finally
free
, and suddenly there you were.”

“The first ‘disappearance’ was about due to be reported, anyway; Karl Weimar gave you the perfect chance to start confusing the trail,” I continued. “Your first victim was expected to be away for some time, so you had latitude. And you’d already figured it out. Everyone knew you couldn’t go back to a form you had already had. And you couldn’t take the form of human beings, only wolves. So Victor Spangler, long-time resident, and well-known human collaborator, was a doubly safe identity.

“I didn’t get all the clues to this puzzle until recently, or I might have caught on sooner. If I’d just been going by your movements en route here, Vic would have been high on the suspect list; this is a fairly central location, you have contact with everyone, and so on.

“The key, of course, is the masquerade. The wolves have to cooperate in order to keep the secret from being blown, and they
especially
have to do so with their human collaborators—the ones who sometimes have to be moved around quickly so as to be the interfaces with human outsiders who might possibly be carting around CryWolf gadgets. These collaborators are of prime importance in all areas that have high contact with outsiders: convenience stores, gas stations, restaurants . . . and hotels.”

He chuckled and nodded. “Right, right.”

“I found out that the day the conference ended—the day before I arrived—Vic had to go work at one of the other hotels. Someone had to take his place here—a wolf who had changed himself to look just like Vic! You noticed the substitution and that was when the idea hit you. You killed that wolf and took his place, and assumed the guise of Vic the Human. Once you were ‘in,’ you could use that cooperative requirement to get other wolves to take on Vic’s form—on the excuse that you were needed elsewhere. You had to destroy the other bodies to hide the fact that, otherwise, there’d be quite a collection of Vic Spangler statues around. All I had to do was find out if you were a collaborator—I asked Baker as though I assumed you were a wolf, he corrected me—and check a couple of timing issues with your assumed ID.”

He spread his hands. “You got me, all right. Had to kill the real Vic, too. So now what?”

I frowned. “Aye, ‘there’s the rub,’ as Hamlet put it. On paper, you’re a murderer, or a dangerous animal, depending on who you ask. And I can’t say I’m comfortable with the whole idea of what you are, or of letting you go after you killed a harmless archaeologist. On the other hand, I also really hate being strung over a barrel by the wolves. Their King’s put me on reserve as a personal chew-toy for later, but they’ve bargained with me to solve this mystery in exchange for my friends’ safety. I want to see if we can find a resolution that doesn’t include my using this,” I pushed my jacket aside and eased the gun out, “to turn you into a colander. And I’m also a bit of a conservationist, I suppose; killing off the entirety of a species doesn’t sit well with me.”

Vic sparkled; the shimmer intensified. It was like watching clouds of sunshine-touched mist dissolve and then reform. The Maelkodan appeared in its natural, default-human form. I admired its tactical sense; if it wanted to play any sympathy cards, it knew perfectly well that a beautiful woman would have a better chance with me than even a nice, cheerful hotel proprietor. “As I see it, the problem is that I need to eat.”

“Not nearly as much as you have been,” I pointed out. “They already told me just how much power you gain; by now you’re getting quite a ways up there.”

“And you believe everything they say?” she challenged.

It was my turn to chuckle. “Not at all. Unfortunately for you, Morgan was the source of confirmation on that information.”

Her lips moved in a pout or a tightening; I couldn’t be quite sure which without looking her in the eyes. “Ah, the one who feels like something from home. But really, Mr. Wood, does it matter? Aside from Dr. O’Connell, who just happened to be the one present when I finally broke free and acted on my instincts, the only ones I’ve killed have been wolves or their friends. Do you really care what I do to them?”

I acknowledged the point. “In truth, not really. I think the world’s better off without them. But there’s the issue of my own word versus theirs. I did promise to investigate this fully and track down the killer. Now, I could weasel
some
technicalities around, but I do have to solve the problem for which I’m hired, and saying ‘Well, I did find the killer, but too bad, I’m not doing anything about it’ really violates the spirit of the contract. The very
last
thing I want to do is encourage them to start playing technicality games with me.”

She nodded. “I could just move on.”

“Will you really be able to stop killing? Be honest, because if you lie about it and it comes out later, I will, beyond any shadow of a doubt, come after your ass.”

She paused for a long, long moment.

Finally, “No. No, I could not. It is what I was created to do. I am a hunter. I hunt anything, mostly wolves, but even your people. The hunt is part of my life. They made me that way. You would eventually hear of more deaths. And they would continue, so long as I live.”

My heart pounded painfully against my chest. “Then let’s settle it here.”

“You have not called the wolves?”

“No. I wanted to find out if there was a chance first. And if not, I want to deprive them of the pleasure.”

She stood up, slowly, and shimmered again, her hands in a “wait a moment” gesture. Rainbow-shimmering clouds formed, dissolved, coalesced, solidified.

Before me stood the Maelkodan.

The centauroid torso and head were just about my height; the body itself, perhaps three to four feet at the hip. It was twelve feet long, covered with iridescent scales in beautiful geometric patterns of green, black, red, silver, and gold. The legs, three-taloned like a Jurassic Park raptor’s, moved smoothly, shifting back and forth nervously. The arms were edged, with wicked spikes at the elbows, and I could see the glitter of diamondlike teeth in the mouth. I couldn’t focus on the head without risking eye contact, but it seemed to be crested and fluted and spiked, as though wearing an elaborate helm.

It bowed low from the waist. “You risk your life and honor me. I shall cherish your soul.”

“I don’t intend to die.”

“No more than did any of the others.” The eyes glowed suddenly, an iridescent flame that I glanced towards reflexively, eyes drawn by the sudden moving change.

It was like simultaneously being hit on the side of the head with a mallet, combined with the fascination of every forbidden pleasure ever imagined. I knew—with absolute truth—that if I didn’t look away, I would die, yet for a frozen instant of time I couldn’t do it; I yearned to do nothing more than stare more deeply into those windows of horrid revelation.

But memory, duty, and Sylvie’s face warred against that lure, forcing my eyes shut against the terrible siren call. Still, being blind is a bad combat situation, and I heard it starting forward.

Right on cue, Syl kicked open the door from the hotel. I went out the back way, as I’d intended all along. Sylvia’s gunshots, unexpected as they were, convinced the Maelkodan to head out into the street with me, even though public locations were hardly where it wanted to be caught.

I sprinted down the alleyway. Behind me, I heard the swift scuttling of taloned feet; I whirled, keeping my eyes low, and snapped off two shots; the Maelkodan writhed sideways, behind a dumpster, giving me back the lead and allowing me to round the corner.

More gunshots from Syl’s Smith & Wesson sounded out. I kept running, knowing I’d hear the creature on my tail in moments. It wouldn’t try to charge Syl who was in the cover of the doorway and who was, I felt sure, firing with accuracy while her eyes were squeezed shut. Her Talent had many uses.

Skittering rhythm of claws on pavement behind me—and then a screeching of tires. I spun around, just in time to see one of the police cars slide to a halt right next to the Maelkodan. It flowed up and to the other side of the car, and I heard a suddenly-cut-off shriek. There was a metallic ripping sound, and I saw the passenger-side door fly out onto the street, shattering the statue which had been the Maelkodan’s body a moment ago.

Then the whole car was hefted into the air.

I almost made eye contact again, goggling at the scene. The creature had its legs splayed wide and dug into the street, tail counterbalancing, performing a comic-book feat of strength with a wide grin on its fanged mouth. With an effort that sent it skidding backwards, tearing grooves through the blacktop, it hurled the cop car straight towards me.

I ran and dove aside at the last second; the impact was so close that it sounded like the crack of doom.
Jesus Christ, the thing was strong! Maybe as strong as Verne!

As I rolled to my feet, I emptied my gun in its direction to slow it down and ran through another alleyway, slamming in another magazine. I’d heard one squealing roar of pain—must have at least nicked the thing. I realized I’d been subconsciously underestimating the creature; our estimates of its capabilities had been based on it having killed three wolves; by current estimate, that was off by at least a factor of two, maybe more if it had gotten lucky and caught a few others we hadn’t noticed yet. I exited the alley and turned down the street. I was, naturally, cursing myself for having these ideas of fair play and justice when dealing with monstrosities from beyond time, and promising myself I’d change my ways if I could just live through this.

A shadow within the darkness was my only warning as the Maelkodan dropped to the street fifty feet ahead of me, having apparently run and jumped along the tops of buildings to do so. However, in landing it paused slightly, perhaps enjoying the effect and its power, and I took full advantage to center my ten-millimeter on the torso and fire three times.

The creature’s eyes flared just as I fired, and I saw three sparks of light in line with my aim. In the glow from the streetlights, I could just make out three tiny objects floating in the air scant feet from the thing. Telekinesis.

“I should have known, I should have known, you can
never
kill a monster with bullets, never, it’s in the friggin’ Monster Union Rules!” I heard myself half-wail as I turned and dashed inside a nearby supermarket, which was mostly empty. The gunshots had drawn the attention of the proprietor, who had unlimbered an impressive-looking shotgun. He never had a chance to use it, however. With a roar like a jet engine going into overload, the Maelkodan demonstrated its newfound power by blowing the entire glass storefront inwards, blasting us off our feet and sending racks of candy, magazines, sunglasses, and other sundries tumbling end-over-end. I took advantage of the impetus to skid and roll down one of the aisles. Its shape and size would give me a slight edge in narrower spaces. I hoped.

“Let us prolong this no longer, Mr. Wood!” the Maelkodan called, its voice oddly human; perhaps it, like the wolves, could shift parts of itself while in motion. “I will try to kill no innocent humans during our hunt, but the more you resist, the greater the chance that one will get in the way!” It sounded sincere, and oddly enough, I believed it. The creature was, perhaps, as soulless a killer as the wolves, but even some wolves seemed to take pleasure—perhaps honest pleasure, perhaps the pleasure of a properly played game, but pleasure nonetheless—in following through on a commitment. I had shown the Maelkodan more consideration than it might have expected; it was trying to live up to the standard I’d set.

“It’s not in my nature to stand still and die,” I shouted back, moving down another aisle. “Honestly, I doubt we’ll get out of this store with both of us still moving.”

“True enough,” it said, and I felt a wave of force ripple past me . . . and then the shelves—the entire aisle’s worth of shelves and products—were moving, toppling inward towards me.

But I was close enough to my goal, slamming my way through the door and finding it was just large enough for my purpose.

There was a pause, one in which I recalled all too well a similar moment, waiting behind a door to see if the King of Wolves would take the bait or not.

I heard a genuine laugh from the Maelkodan, something like a steamkettle rattling. “The men’s room? How clever.” The door burst open. “But did you forget—”

“That you could turn off the killing mode and enter mirrored rooms safely?” I said from my position on the other side of the door. As it turned its startled, momentarily harmless gaze on me, I pressed the button. “I
counted
on it!”

There are commercial versions of that gadget, but I like making my own. The Dazzler detonated like a magnesium flare in that enclosed space, leaving a spotty afterimage on my eyes even through closed lids. I was diving back through the door even as I triggered it.

The Maelkodan shrieked. My ears felt like spikes were being driven through them. The creature’s tail gave a convulsive movement that whipped me fifteen feet across fallen cans and shelves. No telekinetic shield could have protected it from that blazing luminescence scarcely a foot and a half from its eyes. And as Morgan and Baker had both said, it had to be able to
see
its prey to use those eyes. It cursed and shouted in a language so ancient that only Verne and Kafan might have understood it.

For the next few minutes, it was much less dangerous. But that trick had been meant as a last-ditch effort; I’d expected to kill it long before this. Once it recovered, I’d be meat. Even if it kept playing fairly, it was clearly going to wear me out, and then it would all be over. I picked myself up groggily, staring across at the scattered wreckage, candies, displays . . .