"He's interested in the myth? An academic?"

"No, no. He's an electrician. This is just a hobby, but he's quite serious about it. Not obsessive, mind you. Just a scholarly interest in a nonprofessional way. Like mine. We hit it off quite well."

She sipped her wine. "Which reminds me that I haven't heard from him in a while, and I found a book he was asking about. I should call him. Perhaps invite him to dinner." She glanced at me. "Does that seem too forward?"

I'd developed a good poker face over the years, but it was hard to keep it as I said she should do it… knowing that the date would never happen. I couldn't help thinking that it would have been nice for Dennis and Lynn to have that dinner.

"Do you know what got him interested?" I asked. "People who suddenly take a serious interest in the paranormal… Well, in my experiences, it screams 'encounter.'"

I could tell by her expression that she was uncomfortable with the question.

I hurried on. "Sorry, I didn't mean for the article. Hope has a policy of never reporting anything that isn't a firsthand account. I was just being nosy. When you work with this stuff, you can't help… looking for proof, I guess."

"I can imagine. Well, Den-he seemed to have had a sighting, but he never told me about it. I've learned not to push. There are some who are eager to pour their tale in any sympathetic ear, and those who need to work it through themselves first. He did say he has a cabin in the region reputed to be Ijiraat territory. He asked about the Ijiraat's forms, specifically. Whether they shape-shifted into bears or wolves, or perhaps into something that simply resembled both, depending on the witness."

"Like two people seeing an animal in a city alley, one saying it was a cat and one a rat."

"Exactly. It's a fascinating idea that I hadn't considered. If a human is going to change into an animal, a full shift into a bear or a wolf seems rather unlikely. It would be more logical to change into something bear-like or wolf-like. A beast on two legs."

"Like those old Hollywood wolf men."

"Yes, exactly."

CLAY WAS HUNGRY. I told him what I'd learned as we picked up burgers at a drive-through.

"Maybe these creatures do exist," he said as he took the paper bag and drove away without waiting for his change. "But I don't see any evidence that they're shapeshifters. I finished going through those accounts while you were inside and there's not one mention of the usual signs of a shape-shifting human-footsteps go into a thicket and paw prints come out, shoot an animal and see a wounded man later. Not a credible mention anyway. I'd say it's more likely to be a single-form humanoid like Bigfoot."

"Good point."

"Whatever Dennis saw could have been this Ijiraat, either a humanoid creature or a shapeshifter. And whatever attacked you last night was definitely no bear. The Inuit say these Ijiraat have been here for generations and people have been reporting sightings for a hundred years. But only now does it start killing people? When a pack of mutt thugs rolls into town?"

"Well, I think Lynn was missing that bit of info."

"Dennis must have seen something, and I agree there might actually be something out there. What I'm not buying is that the two-this creature and the killings-are connected. Except that if such a beast exists and this is its traditional territory, it's not going to be too happy about werewolves turning it into a killing ground."

"True. That might also explain why it didn't like us being on its territory last night." I unwrapped my burger and glanced at him. "We need to go back."

JUST BECAUSE WE promptly agreed to do something dangerous didn't mean we weren't aware of the danger. Waltzing into those woods hoping to lure the beast would be like strolling down to an African water hole dangling a steak and calling, "here kitty, kitty."

We had some sense of what we were up against. It was bigger than us, stronger than us and maybe even a better hunter than us. The best way to fight an opponent with fangs and claws is to have your own. Either that, or bring along a really big gun.

To be honest, I couldn't see how a gun would be that much of an advantage. Biting or swiping is a natural extension of fighting. A gun is big and unwieldy, and if you don't get it up in time or don't aim it right or it jams, you're screwed. So I was sticking with what I knew.

But as we drove, I remembered that guy in Pittsburgh handing out cards for his wife and decided a Taser might be perfect for backup when we weren't in wolf form.

Was I totally comfortable buying a weapon? No, but that had less to do with my belief system than with pride. I was a werewolf, damn it. I didn't use weapons. But these days it wasn't all about me. I wanted to live to see my kids grow up. So I bought the Taser. I'll refrain from commenting on the process except to say that the leftist humanitarian in me was appalled, while the warrior in me, heading into battle, was happy that she didn't need to fill out paperwork and wait six weeks for a license.

If we were attacked by the beast from last night, the Taser might not stop it, but it could slow it down enough to even the odds.

AS IT TURNED out, we didn't need a weapon. The forest continued its night symphony the whole time we were Changing, with only the usual cushion of silence around us, meaning we were the only predators within earshot.

I'll admit I didn't mind the excuse to return to these woods, and it wasn't just the new species of birds and animals or the new expanses of land stretching to the horizon. This forest felt different. The moment I'd start to relax, I'd get that prickle at the back of my neck, warning me not to get too comfortable. Things here weren't what I was used to and I couldn't lower my guard.

It was different. And different is good.

WE'D CHANGED BESIDE the road where we'd parked the night before. Then we followed the trail toward Dennis's cabin.

On the way, we found the spot where I'd been attacked. I'd hoped that in wolf form, with my better nose, I might be able to get more clues as to what exactly had ambushed us. But while I could still smell it, the musky odor was so overwhelming it was like trying to pick apart the components of cheap cologne. My nose and brain revolted and could only process the overall stink… and wanted nothing to do with it.

We managed to follow the beast's trail for almost a mile. Then it dipped into a shallow, fast-running stream, as if the creature knew we'd try tracking it. We ran along the sides for another half mile, but we found no sign of where it had exited, and we gave up. As interesting as this mystery was, we had a more pressing agenda tonight.

At Dennis's cabin, I Changed back while Clay stood guard. He'd offered to search instead, to save me the extra Changing. I won't say it's less painful for him-I have no way of judging that-but he's been doing them from the age most kids learn to ride a bike. I've never known him to skip an opportunity because he'd prefer not to go through it.

But I had more searching experience and he had more guarding experience, so we stuck to our roles. The first thing I did was look for any evidence that Dennis had encountered the beast-a photo, a journal, anything. But I found nothing and soon began the real work of the night-figuring out how close Dan's story of Dennis's death was to the reality, while learning all I could about this mysterious younger Stillwell.

Now that I'd encountered both Tesler brothers and Dan, I could pick out their individual scents and re-create that night in the cabin. All three had been here. Travis Tester's and Podrova's scents blanketed the spot where we'd found Dennis, meaning they both had been actively involved in his torture.