'Hellbound - '
Wolf threw Warwick. Warwick flew through the air with the greatest of ease and struck Sonny in the back as Sonny fired. The bullet went wild, hitting one of the turning tapereels in the sound-studio and pulverizing it. The ranting, screaming voice of Sunlight Gardener ceased. A great bass hum of feedback began to rise from the speakers.
Roaring, staggering, Wolf advanced on Sonny Singer. Sonny pointed the .45 at him and pulled the trigger. There was a dry, impotent click. Sonny's wet grin faltered.
'No,' he said mildly, and pulled the trigger again . . . and again . . . and again. As Wolf reached for him, he threw the gun and tried to run around Gardener's big desk. The pistol bounced off Wolf's skull, and with a final, failing burst of strength, Wolf leaped across Sunlight Gardener's desk after Sonny, scattering everything that had been there. Sonny backed away, but Wolf was able to grab his arm.
'No!' Sonny screamed. 'No, you better not, you'll go back in the Box, I'm a big man around here, I . . . I . . . IYYYYYYYYYYYY - !'
Wolf twisted Sonny's arm. There was a ripping sound, the sound of a turkey drumstick being torn from the cooked bird by an overenthusiastic child. Suddenly Sonny's arm was in Wolf's big front paw. Sonny staggered away, blood jetting from his shoulder. Jack saw a wet white knob of bone. He turned away and was violently sick.
For a moment the whole world swam into grayness.
19
When he looked around again, Wolf was swaying in the middle of the carnage that had been Gardener's office. His eyes guttered pale yellow, like dying candles. Something was happening to his face, to his arms and legs - he was becoming Wolf again, Jack saw . . . and then understood fully what that meant. The old legends had lied about how only silver bullets could destroy a werewolf, but apparently about some things they did not lie. Wolf was changing back because he was dying.
'Wolf, no!' he wailed, and managed to get to his feet. He got halfway to Wolf, slipped in a puddle of blood, went to one knee, got up again. 'No!'
'Jacky - ' The voice was low, guttural, little more than a growl . . . but understandable.
And, incredibly, Wolf was trying to smile.
Warwick had gotten Gardener's door open. He was backing slowly up the steps, his eyes wide and shocked.
'Go on!' Jack screamed. 'Go on, get outta here!'
Andy Warwick fled like a scared rabbit.
A voice from the intercom - Franky Williams's voice - cut through the droning buzz of feedback. It was horrified, but filled with a terrible, sickly excitement. 'Christ, lookit this! Looks like somebody went bullshit with a meat-cleaver! Some of you guys check the kitchen!'
'Jacky - '
Wolf collapsed like a falling tree.
Jack knelt, turned him over. The hair was melting away from Wolf's cheeks with the eerie speed of time-lapse photography. His eyes had gone hazel again. And to Jack he looked horribly tired.
'Jacky - ' Wolf raised a bloody hand and touched Jack's cheek. 'Shoot . . . you? Did he . . .'
'No,' Jack said, cradling his friend's head. 'No, Wolf, never got me. Never did.'
'I . . .' Wolf's eyes closed and then opened slowly again. He smiled with incredible sweetness and spoke carefully, enunciating each word, obviously needing to convey this if nothing else. 'I . . . kept . . . my herd . . . safe.'
'Yes, you did,' Jack said, and his tears began to flow. They hurt. He cradled Wolf's shaggy, tired head and wept. 'You sure did, good old Wolf - '
'Good . . . good old Jacky.'
'Wolf, I'm gonna go upstairs . . . there are cops . . . an ambulance . . .'
'No!' Wolf once again seemed to rouse himself to a great effort. 'Go on . . . you go on . . .'
'Not without you, Wolf!' All the lights had blurred double, treble. He held Wolf's head in his burned hands. 'Not without you, huh-uh, no way - '
'Wolf . . . doesn't want to live in this world.' He pulled a great, shuddering breath into his broad, shattered chest and tried another smile. 'Smells . . . smells too bad.'
'Wolf . . . listen, Wolf - '
Wolf took his hands gently; as he held them, Jack could feel the hair melting from Wolf's palms. It was a ghostly, terrible sensation.
'I love you, Jacky.'
'I love you, too, Wolf,' Jack said. 'Right here and now.'
Wolf smiled.
'Going back, Jacky . . . I can feel it. Going back . . .'
Suddenly Wolf's very hands felt insubstantial in Jack's grip.
'Wolf!' he screamed.
'Going back home . . .'
'Wolf, no!' He felt his heart stagger and wrench in his chest. It would break, oh yes, hearts could break, he felt that. 'Wolf, come back, I love you!' There was a sensation of lightness in Wolf now, a feeling that he was turning into something like a milkweed pod . . . or a shimmer of illusion. A Daydream.
'. . . goodbye . . .'
Wolf was fading glass. Fading . . . fading . . .
'Wolf!'
' . . .love you J . . .'
Wolf was gone. There was only a bloody outline on the floor where he had been.