The Compleat Werewolf Page 5

  The stage door opened, admitting two men in denim pants and work shirts. “Hey!” said the first. “Where do you think you are?”

  “We’re from Metropolis Pictures,” the casting director started to explain, scrambling to his feet.

  “I don’t care if you’re from Washington, we gotta clear this stage. There’s movies here tonight. Come on, Joe, help me get ’em out. And that pooch, too.”

  “You can’t, Fred,” said Joe reverently, and pointed. His voice sank to an awed whisper. “That’s Gloria Garton—”

  “So it is. Hi, Miss Garton. Cripes, wasn’t that last one of yours a stinkeroo!”

  “Your public, darling,” Fergus murmured.

  “Come on!” Fred shouted. “Out of here. We gotta clean up. And you, Joe! Strike that rope!”

  Before Fergus could move, before Wolf could leap to the rescue, the efficient stagehand had struck the rope and was coiling it up.

  Wolf stared up into the flies. There was nothing up there. Nothing at all. Someplace beyond the end of that rope was the only man on earth he could trust to say Absarka! for him; and the way down was cut off forever.

  Wolfe Wolf sprawled on the floor of Gloria Garton’s boudoir and watched that vision of volupty change into her most fetching negligee.

  The situation was perfect. It was the fulfillment of all his dearest dreams. The only flaw was that he was still in a wolf’s body.

  Gloria turned, leaned over, and chucked him under the snout. “Wuzzum a cute wolf dog, wuzzum?”

  Wolf could not restrain a snarl.

  “Doesn’t um like Gloria to talk baby talk? Um was a naughty wolf, yes, um was.”

  It was torture. Here you are in your best-beloved’s hotel room, all her beauty revealed to your hungry eyes, and she talks baby talk to you! Wolf had been happy at first when Gloria suggested that she might take over the care of her costar pending the reappearance of his trainer—for none of them was quite willing to admit that “Mr. O. Z. Manders” might truly and definitely have vanished—but he was beginning to realize that the situation might bring on more torment than pleasure.

  “Wolves are funny,” Gloria observed. She was more talkative when alone, with no need to be cryptically fascinating. “I knew a Wolfe once, only that was his name. He was a man. And he was a funny one.”

  Wolf felt his heart beating fast under his gray fur. To hear his own name on Gloria’s warm lips … But before she could go on to tell her pet how funny Wolfe was, her maid rapped on the door.

  “A Mr. O’Breen to see you, madam.”

  “Tell him to go ’way.”

  “He says it’s important, and he does look, madam, as though he might make trouble.”

  “Oh, all right.” Gloria rose and wrapped her negligee more respectably about her. “Come on, Yog— No, that’s a silly name. I’m going to call you Wolfie. That’s cute. Come on, Wolfie, and protect me from the big, bad detective.”

  Fergus O’Breen was pacing the sitting room with a certain vicious deliberateness in his strides. He broke off and stood still as Gloria and the wolf entered.

  “So?” he observed tersely. “Reinforcements?”

  “Will I need them?” Gloria cooed.

  “Look, light of my love life.” The glint in the green eyes was cold and deadly. “You’ve been playing games, and whatever their nature, there’s one thing they’re not. And that’s cricket.”

  Gloria gave him a languid smile. “You’re amusing, Fergus.”

  “Thanks. I doubt, however, if your activities are.”

  “You’re still a little boy playing cops and robbers. And what boogyman are you after now?”

  “Ha-ha,” said Fergus politely. “And you know the answer to that question better than I do. That’s why I’m here.”

  Wolf was puzzled. This conversation meant nothing to him. And yet he sensed a tension of danger in the air as clearly as though he could smell it.

  “Go on,” Gloria snapped impatiently. “And remember how dearly Metropolis Pictures will thank you for annoying one of its best box-office attractions.”

  “Some things, my sweeting, are more important than pictures, though you mightn’t think it where you come from. One of them is a certain federation of forty-eight units. Another is an abstract concept called democracy.”

  “And so?”

  “And so I want to ask you one question: Why did you come to Berkeley?”

  “For publicity on Fangs, of course. It was your sister’s idea.”

  “You’ve gone temperamental and turned down better ones. Why leap at this?”

  “You don’t haunt publicity stunts yourself, Fergus. Why are you here?”

  Fergus was pacing again. “And why was your first act in Berkeley a visit to the office of the German department?”

  “Isn’t that natural enough? I used to be a student here.”

  “Majoring in dramatics, and you didn’t go near the Little Theater. Why the German department?” He paused and stood straight in front of her, fixing her with his green gaze.

  Gloria assumed the attitude of a captured queen defying the barbarian conqueror. “Very well. If you must know—I went to the German department to see the man I love.”

  Wolf held his breath, and tried to keep his tail from thrashing.

  “Yes,” she went on impassionedly, “you strip the last veil from me, and force me to confess to you what he alone should have heard first. This man proposed to me by mail. I foolishly rejected his proposal. But I thought and thought— and at last I knew. When I came to Berkeley I had to see him—”

  “And did you?”

  “The little mouse of a secretary told me he wasn’t there. But I shall see him yet. And when I do—”

  Fergus bowed stiffly. “My congratulations to you both, my sweeting. And the name of this more than fortunate gentleman?”

  “Professor Wolfe Wolf.”

  “Who is doubtless the individual referred to in this?” He whipped a piece of paper from his sport coat and thrust it at Gloria. She paled and was silent. But Wolfe Wolf did not wait for her reply. He did not care. He knew the solution to his problem now, and he was streaking unobserved for her boudoir.

  Gloria Garton entered the boudoir a minute later, a shaken and wretched woman. She unstoppered one of the delicate perfume bottles on her dresser and poured herself a stiff tot of whiskey. Then her eyebrows lifted in surprise as she stared at her mirror. Scrawlingly lettered across the glass in her own deep-crimson lipstick was the mysterious word

  ABSARKA

  Frowning, she said it aloud. “Absarka—”

  From behind a screen stepped Professor Wolfe Wolf, incongruously wrapped in one of Gloria’s lushest dressing robes. “Gloria dearest—” he cried.

  “Wolfe!” she exclaimed. “What on earth are you doing here in my room?”

  “I love you. I’ve always loved you since you couldn’t tell a strong from a weak verb. And now that I know that you love me—”

  “This is terrible. Please get out of here!”

  “Gloria—”

  “Get out of here, or I’ll sick my dog on you. Wolfie— Here, nice Wolfie!”

  “I’m sorry, Gloria. But Wolfie won’t answer you.”

  “Oh, you beast! Have you hurt Wolfie? Have you—”

  “I wouldn’t touch a hair on his pelt. Because, you see, Gloria darling, I am Wolfie.”

  “What on earth do you—” Gloria stared around the room. It was undeniable that there was no trace of the presence of a wolf dog. And here was a man dressed only in one of her robes and no sign of his own clothes. And after that funny little man and the rope …

  “You thought I was drab and dull,” Wolf went on. “You thought I’d sunk into an academic rut. You’d sooner have an actor or a G-man. But I, Gloria, am something more exciting than you’ve ever dreamed of. There’s not another soul on earth I’d tell this to, but I, Gloria, am a werewolf.”

  Gloria gasped. “That isn’t possible! But it does all fit in. When I he
ard about you on campus, and your friend with the funny beard and how he vanished, and, of course, it explains how you did tricks that any real dog couldn’t possibly do—”

  “Don’t you believe me, darling?”

  Gloria rose from the dresser chair and went into his arms. “I believe you, dear. And it’s wonderful! I’ll bet there’s not another woman in all Hollywood that was ever married to a werewolf!”

  “Then you will—”

  “But of course, dear. We can work it out beautifully. We’ll hire a stooge to be your trainer on the lot. You can work daytimes, and come home at night and I’ll say that word for you. It’ll be perfect.”

  “Gloria …” Wolf murmured with tender reverence.

  “One thing, dear. Just a little thing. Would you do Gloria a favor?”

  “Anything!”

  “Show me how you change. Change for me now. Then I’ll change you back right away.”

  Wolf said The Word. He was in such ecstatic bliss that he hardly felt the pang this time. He capered about the room with all the litheness of his fine wolfish legs, and ended up before Gloria, wagging his tail and looking for approval.

  Gloria patted his head. “Good boy, Wolfie. And now, darling, you can just damned well stay that way.”

  Wolf let out a yelp of amazement.

  “You heard me, Wolfie. You’re staying that way. You didn’t happen to believe any of that guff I was feeding the detective, did you? Love you? I should waste my time! But this way you can be very useful to me. With your trainer gone, I can take charge of you and pick up an extra thousand a week or so. I won’t mind that. And Professor Wolfe Wolf will have vanished forever, which fits right in with my plans.”

  Wolf snarled.

  “Now, don’t try to get nasty, Wolfie darling. Um wouldn’t threaten ums darling Gloria, would ums? Remember what I can do for you. I’m the only person that can turn you into a man again. You wouldn’t dare teach anyone else that. You wouldn’t dare let people know what you really are. An ignorant person would kill you. A smart one would have you locked up as a lunatic.”

  Wolf still advanced threateningly.

  “Oh, no. You can’t hurt me. Because all I’d have to do would be to say the word on the mirror. Then you wouldn’t be a dangerous wolf any more. You’d just be a man here in my room, and I’d scream. And after what happened on the campus yesterday, how long do you think you’d stay out of the madhouse?”

  Wolf backed away and let his tail droop.

  “You see, Wolfie darling? Gloria has ums just where she wants ums. And ums is damned well going to be a good boy.”

  There was a rap on the boudoir door, and Gloria called, “Come in.”

  “A gentleman to see you, madam,” the maid announced. “A Professor Fearing.”

  Gloria smiled her best cruel and queenly smile. “Come along, Wolfie. This may interest you.”

  Professor Oscar Fearing, overflowing one of the graceful chairs of the sitting room, beamed benevolently as Gloria and the wolf entered. “Ah, my dear! A new pet. Touching.”

  “And what a pet, Oscar. Wait till you hear.”

  Professor Fearing buffed his pince-nez against his sleeve. “And wait, my dear, until you hear all that I have learned. Chiswick has perfected his protective screen against magnetic bombs, and the official trial is set for next week. And Farnsworth has all but completed his researches on a new process for obtaining osmium. Gas warfare may start any day, and the power that can command a plentiful supply of—”

  “Fine, Oscar,” Gloria broke in. “But we can go over all this later. “We’ve got other worries right now.”

  “What do you mean, my dear?”

  “Have you run onto a red-headed young Irishman in a yellow shirt?”

  “No, I— Why, yes. I did see such an individual leaving the office yesterday. I believe he had been to see Wolfe.”

  “He’s on to us. He’s a detective from Los Angeles, and he’s tracking us down. Someplace he got hold of a scrap of record that should have been destroyed. He knows I’m in it, and he knows I’m tied up with somebody here in the German department.”

  Professor Fearing scrutinized his pince-nez, approved of their cleanness, and set them on his nose. “Not so much excitement, my dear. No hysteria. Let us approach this calmly. Does he know about the Temple of the Dark Truth?”

  “Not yet. Nor about you. He just knows it’s somebody in the department.”

  “Then what could be simpler? You have heard of the strange conduct of Wolfe Wolf?”

  “Have I!” Gloria laughed harshly.

  “Everyone knows of Wolfe’s infatuation with you. Throw the blame onto him. It should be easy to clear yourself and make you appear an innocent tool. Direct all attention to him and the organization will be safe. The Temple of the Dark Truth can go its mystic way and extract even more invaluable information from weary scientists who need the emotional release of a false religion.”

  “That’s what I’ve tried to do. I gave O’Breen a long song and dance about my devotion to Wolfe, so obviously phony he’d be bound to think it was a cover-up for something else. And I think he bit. But the situation’s a damned sight trickier than you guess. Do you know where Wolfe Wolf is?”

  “No one knows. After the president … ah … rebuked him, he seems to have vanished.”

  Gloria laughed again. “He’s right here. In this room.”

  “My dear! Secret panels and such? You take your espionage too seriously. Where?”

  “There!”

  Professor Fearing gaped. “Are you serious?”

  “As serious as you are about the future of Fascism. That is Wolfe Wolf.”

  Fearing approached the wolf incredulously and extended his hand.

  “He might bite,” Gloria warned him a second too late.

  Fearing stared at his bleeding hand. “That, at least,” he observed, “is undeniably true.” And he raised his foot to deliver a sharp kick.

  “No, Oscar! Don’t! Leave him alone. And you’ll have to take my word for it—it’s way too complicated. But the wolf is Wolfe Wolf, and I’ve got him absolutely under control. He’s perfectly in our hands. We’ll switch suspicion to him, and I’ll keep him this way while Fergus and his friends the G-men go off hotfoot on his trail.”

  “My dear!” Fearing ejaculated. “You’re mad. You’re more hopelessly mad than the devout members of the Temple.” He took off his pince-nez and stared again at the wolf. “And yet Tuesday night— Tell me one thing: From whom did you get this … this wolf dog?”

  “From a funny plump little man with a fringy beard.”

  Fearing gasped. Obviously he remembered the furor in the Temple, and the wolf and the fringe-beard. “Very well, my dear. I believe you. Don’t ask me why, but I believe you. And now—”

  “Now, it’s all set, isn’t it? We keep him here helpless, and we use him to—”

  “The wolf as scapegoat. Yes. Very pretty.”

  “Oh! One thing—” She was suddenly frightened.

  Wolfe Wolf was considering the possibilities of a sudden attack on Fearing. He could probably get out of the room before Gloria could say Absarka! But after that? Whom could he trust to restore him? Especially if G-men were to be set on his trail …

  “What is it?” Fearing asked.

  “That secretary. That little mouse in the department office. She knows it was you I asked for, not Wolf. Fergus can’t have talked to her yet, because he swallowed my story; but he will. He’s thorough.”

  “Hm-m-m. Then, in that case—”

  “Yes, Oscar?”

  “She must be attended to.” Professor Oscar Fearing beamed genially and reached for the phone.

  Wolf acted instantly, on inspiration and impulse. His teeth were strong, quite strong enough to jerk the phone cord from the wall. That took only a second, and in the next second he was out of the room and into the hall before Gloria could open her mouth to speak that word that would convert him from a powerful and dangerous wolf to a futi
le man.

  There were shrill screams and a shout or two of “Mad dog!” as he dashed through the hotel lobby, but he paid no heed to them. The main thing was to reach Emily’s house before she could be “attended to.” Her evidence was essential. That could swing the balance, show Fergus and his G-men where the true guilt lay. And, besides, he admitted to himself, Emily was a damned nice kid …

  His rate of collision was about one point six six per block, and the curses heaped upon him, if theologically valid, would have been more than enough to damn him forever. But he was making time, and that was all that counted. He dashed through traffic signals, cut into the path of trucks, swerved from under streetcars, and once even leaped over a stalled car that was obstructing him. Everything was going fine, he was halfway there, when two hundred pounds of human flesh landed on him in a flying tackle.

  He looked up through the brilliant lighting effects of smashing his head on the sidewalk and saw his old nemesis, the policeman who had been cheated of his beer.

  “So, Rover!” said the officer. “Got you at last, did I? Now we’ll see if you’ll wear a proper license tag. Didn’t know I used to play football, did you?”

  The officer’s grip on his hair was painfully tight. A gleeful crowd was gathering and heckling the policeman with fantastic advice.

  “Get along, boys,” he admonished. “This is a private matter between me and Rover here. Come on,” and he tugged even harder.

  Wolf left a large tuft of fur and skin in the officer’s grasp and felt the blood ooze out of the bare patch on his neck. He heard a ripe oath and a pistol shot simultaneously, and felt the needlelike sting through his shoulder. The awestruck crowd thawed before him. Two more bullets hied after him, but he was gone, leaving the most dazed policeman in Berkeley.

  “I hit him,” the officer kept muttering blankly. “I hit the—”

  Wolfe Wolf coursed along Dwight Way. Two more blocks and he’d be at the little bungalow that Emily shared with a teaching assistant in something or other. Ripping out that telephone had stopped Fearing only momentarily; the orders would have been given by now, the henchmen would be on their way. But he was almost there …

  “He’o!” a child’s light voice called to him. “Nice woof-woof come back!”