I should have slammed the door, but I couldn't. I was rooted to the floor in the hallway, unable to drag my eyes from the sight in front of me.
Clyde's body contorted; his shoulders hunched; his legs bowed. He threw back his head and howled.
The sound shot ice down my spine. The wolves in the forest paused in their flight and answered.
His clothes split open with a shriek of rending cloth and bursting seams. His shoes seemed to explode and paws popped out. He dropped to all fours and the hands that caught him had claws.
Black hair sprouted from every pore, thickening, lengthening, becoming fur. A tail erupted from his spine.
The last thing to change was his head.
I sensed movement behind me, but I couldn't tear my gaze away. I braced myself, expecting Mandenauer to shoot. But he didn't. Odd, he'd never hesitated before.
The popping of bones, the stretching of skin, caused a horrible sound. I winced as Clyde finished the change.
His nose and his mouth stretched, melding into a snout. His teeth grew; his tongue must have, too, since it lolled out the side of his mouth. His brow bulged. When he swung his head in our direction his face was that of a skinned wolf with Clyde's eyes.
Nasty. I wished for the fur to arrive. My wish was soon granted.
Black hair flowed over his face, obscuring the bones that marred his cinnamon skin. He shook himself as if he'd just come out of the water, then turned toward me.
I gasped. Clyde was the black wolf that had dogged my steps and haunted my dreams. He was most likely the wolf that had bitten Karen Larson and countless others.
The gunshot made me scream and fall to the floor, throwing my hands up in front of my face. My ears rang, but I still heard Clyde shriek. I didn't want to look, but I had to.
Flames burst from a neat hole near his heart. The scent of scorched hair and cooking meat filled the air.
The howl of a wolf, the cry of a man - he writhed in pain, twisting, turning, his claws scrabbling against the planks of the porch as he died.
I stayed on the ground. I couldn't gain my feet. Man-denauer stepped around me and shoved at Clyde wkh his boot. The wolf's head lolled sickeningly.
I leaned my back against the cabin wall. I was weak, limp. I couldn't stop staring at what had once been my boss. I'd liked Clyde, trusted him as much as I trusted anyone - except maybe Zee. I couldn't get my mind around the idea that he'd forever be a wolf. That Clyde would never again spit chew or quote Clint.
"Why did you let him finish the change before you shot him?"
"It is easier to explain a dead wolf than a dead sheriff." His gaze swept the forest. "We must go."
"Go? Where? We got him."
"The sheriff was nothing more than a minion of evil. The one who will become remains."
"How you figure?"
Mandenauer flicked me a contemptuous glance. "If he was the one, why did he give the totem to the others?"
I hadn't thought of that. Damn.
"Listen," Mandenauer whispered.
In the distance the wolves called to one another. There were more of them now. The ones who had been here had joined those who waited there. With their leader.
I glanced at the sky. The blue moon had not yet reached the apex. Our night had only begun.
I struggled to my knees, gained my feet without help. I looked for Will and didn't find him.
Had he passed out from blood loss? I took a step toward the door and Mandenauer stopped me. "Your lover is putting a bandage on his scratch. He does not need your aid."
"You call that a scratch?"
"You do not?"