A Girl's Guide to Guns and Monsters - Martin Harry Greenberg [12]
“You thought I had eaten them, didn’t you?” Jake said proudly. “I have not. I’m turning them into werewolves just like you and me.”
“But those who are turned die or go insane!” Prudence protested.
Jake grinned happily, looking over at the five little monstrosities as if they were his own children. “The skinwalker helped me. His traditional magic involves changing shape—changing his skin—but he can only do so for a short period of time. He was fascinated that not only can werewolves take on the wolf form, we can pass the ability on to others.
“After hearing my story, Clyde had a thought. He said that since I had gained new abilities after I had eaten human flesh, perhaps the eating of human flesh would help these little ones to stabilize their new abilities.
“We made mistakes at first. My first project was a boy about ten. Even after I had gifted him with my breath, he refused to eat the meat, not even when we starved him. After that we chose younger children. They had far fewer scruples. They will be the new Clan Bledsloe, Prudence. With them we will win a part of the west to be our own.”
Prudence knew what would come next. It was written in the cynical twist of the Navajo witch’s smile.
“I’m offering you a chance to join us,” Jake said. “We’ve always been close. You’re smart. You’re determined. You’d be an asset.”
“You know I’m carrying silver,” Prudence said, “and you know what that means.”
“You came looking for me,” Jake said, “thinking you might need to kill a crazy werewolf. Now, though, you see I’m not crazy.”
“Easy as that you’d trust me? Let me join your pack?”
“Not quite,” Clyde interrupted, “that easy. There must be a test. When skinwalkers initiate one into our secrets, we demand they prove their sincerity by killing someone. That is what we ask of you.”
Prudence nodded, trying to hide the creeping dread that chilled her entrails.
“Kill someone, like some trail drifter?”
Jake laughed, a warm, friendly sound. “Oh, no, Pru. We don’t just kill at random. I told you. We have an agenda. I think it would be good if you killed someone whose death would stir up trouble between the whites and Navajo. Maybe Reverend Printer. He’s a popular man.”
“I have a better idea,” Clyde said. “Kill the girl, April March. Later, kill the boy, Vern Yaz. One death would be seen as vengeance for the other.”
“Beautiful!” Jake said. He looked at Prudence and added generously, “You can just kill the girl. I’ll kill the boy. Better he be shot and a white man’s prints seen in the area. The girl, though, she should be torn up. Savages mutilate their victims. Every white knows that, but the Navajo will feel unjustly blamed. Damn, Clyde, you’re smart.”
“I am old and perhaps have gained a little wisdom,” the Navajo said.
Prudence swallowed a surge of bile.
“When?”
“Moon’s rising full,” Jake said thoughtfully. “Be easier for you to make the change then. Why don’t we set it up for as soon as can be?”
Prudence thought about silver bullets and full moons.
“All right,” she said. “How do we get that girl out at night?”
Getting April March to come out proved to be almost too easy. Clyde Begay went into Eli Mercantile ostensibly to trade for a blanket. When Mr. Eli’s back was turned, Clyde slipped April a note written by Prudence, asking the girl to come to the stand of cottonwoods down by the stream that night, and not to mention the meeting to anyone.
“It won’t matter if she talks about it. If she does, she’s sure to mention an old Navajo brought the note. All fuel for our fires,” Jake chortled.
Jake seemed boisterous and ebullient, but he wasn’t so far gone as to forget to make sure Prudence took the silver bullets out of her guns, and that she left those guns behind.
“You won’t be needing them,” he said, “not on a full moon night, not when your prey is a mere child.”
And Prudence had to agree.
She shifted shape and they ran shoulder to shoulder in the direction of town. It was a glorious experience.