Read Online The Dragon Done It by Mike Resnick, Eric Flint - Free Book Online
Authors: Mike Resnick, Eric Flint
Tags: Science-Fiction
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why had she kept the one piece of evidence that could have put her away for life? Why run the risk?
To my astonishment, a tear was spilling from between her perfect black lashes.
"Sentimental reasons," she said. "My first husband—the one they locked away, the one I framed, the one who spent every spare hour of the day beating the bright blue hell out of me . . . I . . ."
"You still love him," I said. "Sweet mother of mercy! Now I've heard it all."
I rocked back in the chair and reminded myself there are two things man was never meant to know: what happened before the big bang singularity and why dames do what they do.
"So," I said heavily, "your boyfriend, the werewolf, stole the photo and used it to blackmail you, to pay off his gambling debts."
Wide, tear-filled eyes trembled in her pale, cold face as she nodded, her bottom lip trembling.
"It's just a coincidence we were in your neighborhood when I finally got him cornered. And that's the honest truth," she said, her voice breaking.
Rising from my chair, I slammed both fists down on the desk and lunged towards her, my own lips pulled back from my teeth, and with the most ferocious growl I could muster I said, "Liar!"
Her tears stopped abruptly. I held my breath and waited for the gunshot. I wished I'd put my feet up on the desk—that would at least have given me a fighting chance. But no, I faced her down, knowing my only hope was to outstare her.
Only when she looked away did I allow myself to breathe again. How much time had I bought myself? I didn't know. What I did know was I'd knocked her off-balance. I had to keep her that way, so I went over to the wolf's corpse and picked up the hat.
"Interesting badge," I said, fingering the lining. "The Helmwolfen Bruderschaft . Not a very well-known pack."
"I wouldn't know," she said listlessly. The big handgun lay on her lap; her fingers lay on the big handgun.
"It's not well-known for one very simple reason," I continued. "It isn't a wolf pack at all."
"Isn't it? But I thought all werewolves belonged to packs."
"They do. But our friend here isn't a werewolf."
I whipped off my coat and made ready to turn it inside-out. The intense heat of the Search Engine's cab had prompted me to turn it into comfortable but penetrable sealskin. Right now it was about as bulletproof as a wet paper towel. I was quick, but the dame was quicker. Throwing back the chair, she stood in a lithe, economical movement and pointed the big handgun right at the center of my head. Since that's a part of my anatomy I'm particularly fond of, I froze.
"Drop the coat," she hissed.
"It's just a coat."
"Drop it!"
I dropped the coat.
"What do you know?" she snapped.
"I'd never heard of the Helmwolfen . There was no mention of any such pack in the book. But not everything gets into the Big Dictionary." I smiled. "You're not in there, for instance, but you exist all right."
"You can be sure of it. Go on."
"When I dug a bit deeper I discovered there's a secret society called the Helmwolfen , but they're not werewolves."
"They're not?"
"No, ma'am, although they move in similar circles. Turns out the Helmwolfen are gamblers. What they do is kind of weird: they take ordinary articles of clothing and lace them with lycanthropia . . ."
" Lycanthropia ? What's that?" She looked puzzled, but I wasn't convinced the expression was genuine.
"Essence of werewolf. Musk. Distilled hound-juice. Whatever. It's intense stuff, very, very powerful. You don't even want to think about how they get their hands on it. Anyway, it does pretty much what a werewolf badge does to its owner."
"What do you mean?"
"Put it this way, you put on an outfit laced with lycanthropia and it won't be your own face you see next time you check the mirror."
"It can turn anybody into a werewolf?"
"Not necessarily a wolf. Could be anything. Tiger, bear, stoat, you name it. It's usually a mammal, usually a carnivore. But not always. There's records of wereparrots. One
To my astonishment, a tear was spilling from between her perfect black lashes.
"Sentimental reasons," she said. "My first husband—the one they locked away, the one I framed, the one who spent every spare hour of the day beating the bright blue hell out of me . . . I . . ."
"You still love him," I said. "Sweet mother of mercy! Now I've heard it all."
I rocked back in the chair and reminded myself there are two things man was never meant to know: what happened before the big bang singularity and why dames do what they do.
"So," I said heavily, "your boyfriend, the werewolf, stole the photo and used it to blackmail you, to pay off his gambling debts."
Wide, tear-filled eyes trembled in her pale, cold face as she nodded, her bottom lip trembling.
"It's just a coincidence we were in your neighborhood when I finally got him cornered. And that's the honest truth," she said, her voice breaking.
Rising from my chair, I slammed both fists down on the desk and lunged towards her, my own lips pulled back from my teeth, and with the most ferocious growl I could muster I said, "Liar!"
Her tears stopped abruptly. I held my breath and waited for the gunshot. I wished I'd put my feet up on the desk—that would at least have given me a fighting chance. But no, I faced her down, knowing my only hope was to outstare her.
Only when she looked away did I allow myself to breathe again. How much time had I bought myself? I didn't know. What I did know was I'd knocked her off-balance. I had to keep her that way, so I went over to the wolf's corpse and picked up the hat.
"Interesting badge," I said, fingering the lining. "The Helmwolfen Bruderschaft . Not a very well-known pack."
"I wouldn't know," she said listlessly. The big handgun lay on her lap; her fingers lay on the big handgun.
"It's not well-known for one very simple reason," I continued. "It isn't a wolf pack at all."
"Isn't it? But I thought all werewolves belonged to packs."
"They do. But our friend here isn't a werewolf."
I whipped off my coat and made ready to turn it inside-out. The intense heat of the Search Engine's cab had prompted me to turn it into comfortable but penetrable sealskin. Right now it was about as bulletproof as a wet paper towel. I was quick, but the dame was quicker. Throwing back the chair, she stood in a lithe, economical movement and pointed the big handgun right at the center of my head. Since that's a part of my anatomy I'm particularly fond of, I froze.
"Drop the coat," she hissed.
"It's just a coat."
"Drop it!"
I dropped the coat.
"What do you know?" she snapped.
"I'd never heard of the Helmwolfen . There was no mention of any such pack in the book. But not everything gets into the Big Dictionary." I smiled. "You're not in there, for instance, but you exist all right."
"You can be sure of it. Go on."
"When I dug a bit deeper I discovered there's a secret society called the Helmwolfen , but they're not werewolves."
"They're not?"
"No, ma'am, although they move in similar circles. Turns out the Helmwolfen are gamblers. What they do is kind of weird: they take ordinary articles of clothing and lace them with lycanthropia . . ."
" Lycanthropia ? What's that?" She looked puzzled, but I wasn't convinced the expression was genuine.
"Essence of werewolf. Musk. Distilled hound-juice. Whatever. It's intense stuff, very, very powerful. You don't even want to think about how they get their hands on it. Anyway, it does pretty much what a werewolf badge does to its owner."
"What do you mean?"
"Put it this way, you put on an outfit laced with lycanthropia and it won't be your own face you see next time you check the mirror."
"It can turn anybody into a werewolf?"
"Not necessarily a wolf. Could be anything. Tiger, bear, stoat, you name it. It's usually a mammal, usually a carnivore. But not always. There's records of wereparrots. One
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