Gypsies, Vamps, and Wolves, Part I
By Autolycus, maynlinz@earthlink.net
A genetically altered female werewolf meets a vampire from her past.


A SPANISH WEREWOLF IN HOLLYWOOD V:

GYPSIES, VAMPS, AND WOLVES

Part I

(c) 2000 Autolycus

Her name is Lupe Bacalao and she is a werewolf...sort of. She is currently the
houseguest of Dr. Cassandra Trotter, an old friend and former teacher of
Jessica Chance who runs a consulting business and writes mystery novels. The
good doctor's daughter, LAPD Officer Saba Trotter, disapproves of her mother's
businesses--She runs a "fight club" in addition to the consulting firm--and of
Lupe, personally, but will nevertheless help them out. This is the story of
the time they encountered a vampire from Lupe's past named Audon Forrade.

Dawn. Simone Stallion rolled over and let her arm drape across the other
figure in her enormous bed, causing Lupe to moan and open her dark eyes. She
looked over at her lover and kissed her deeply, smiling when the crystal blue
eyes fluttered open and she brushed the dark hair from her face.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Lupe said, kissing her again. She was a tall brunette
with eyes the color of plush brown velvet and a full, statuesque figure.

Simone stretched and yawned and then slowly sat up, her lovely face suddenly
frowning when she saw the multitude of dark hairs covering her sheets. "You
know I love you, baby, and I find your werewolf form very sexy, but it would
be nice to make love to you as a full-fledged woman again," she sighed.

"I know, querida. Unfortunately, since I now change whenever I get
excited--And you definitely excite me, Simone!--I don't see how that can
happen," the big Spaniard said miserably, beginning to brush the hair off the
bed.

"Leave that for Matisse, Lupe," Simone said, grabbing both of her hands and
holding them tight. "I didn't mean to upset you. I was just, I don't know,
wishful thinking, I guess."

"I understand, querida. Lupe wishes every day to be rid of her cursed
condition, but that seems unlikely. I should have never let Jessica attempt to
cure me," she said with a heavy sigh.

Simone just pulled her close and held her tight, gently stroking her hair and
whispering reassurances. "Don't worry, baby. We'll get through this. I
promise."

* * * * *

"What are Madame's plans for today?" Matisse, Simone's French maid, asked as
she served breakfast. The maid was a slight brunette with a large chest and
enormous green eyes who clearly did not approve of her mistress' current
choice of lover.

"I'll be going out to seek new representation, now that Lilith and I have
dissolved our professional relationship," she replied a little wistfully. "I
sort of expected agents to be calling me offering their services..."

"Oh, Madame, I'm sure they will once they know you are no longer with
Mademoiselle Kahira," the maid said quickly.

Simone smiled and then asked, "Why don't you come with me, Lupe? I can drop
you off at city hall so you can apply for your private investigator's
license."

The big Spaniard shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Lupe has been thinking
that maybe she will take up Dr. Squatter on her offer and help her run her
club instead," she said, not looking the actress in the eyes.

"Lupe! You know damn well that you don't want to do that," the other scolded.
"Why, if I didn't know you better, I'd say you were afraid..."

"Now, querida, let's not jump to concussions," Lupe said quickly, still
avoiding her lover's eyes. "I just think I owe it to the doctor for all she's
done for me."

"You can't lie to me, Lupe," Simone said, reaching over and lifting her face
to look in her brown eyes. "And we both know Dr. Trotter wants you to follow
your own dreams. So, what's going on? Why the sudden case of frozen feet?"

"You know that Lupe's English is not so good, what if I can't meet the
retirements?" she asked.

"I wouldn't worry about your English, it's not like you have to take a written
test or anything," she said, smiling as she gently stroked Lupe's cheek.
"You're not planning on getting a weapons permit, are you?"

Lupe shook her head. "I've never used a gun before. I don't plan on learning
how now. But what do I have to do to get a license? No one has ever explained
the recess to Lupe."

"You just have to fill out an application and pay some money, I think," Simone
replied a little certainly. "I guess we'll find out for sure when we get
there."

Lupe tried to smile but her expression looked less than hopeful.

"I take it that Madame will be eating out this afternoon?" Matisse asked.

Simone half-frowned. "Yes, Matisse, but we'll be here for dinner this
evening."

"Oui, Madame," the maid replied, curtseying and then exiting the dining room.

Simone and Lupe looked at each other and then grinned widely before bursting
out laughing.

* * * * *

"Good morning, darling," Lilith said as she exited her private elevator.

"Morning, boss," replied her private assistant.

Both women suddenly froze and gasped, noting that each was badly bruised.
"What happened to you?" they both asked.

"I had some trouble with that psychotic woman who was here the other day,"
Lilith said absently. "What about you?"

"I got jumped by some crazy broad sent by an even crazier bitch who's now
dating an old friend and-" Pam began.

"I didn't realize this was going to be a long, involved story," Lili said
suddenly. "Send me the details in a memo, darling. Anything important on my
schedule?"

"Pretty quiet today, except for your first lesson from Master Po this
afternoon."

"It's about time," Lilith said, entering her office and closing the doors
behind her.

Pam was about to continue the paper she was working on when the phone rang.
"Kahira Industries Incorporated," she said into her headset.

"Pam?" The voice on the line was male, hesitant...and tantalizingly familiar.

"Howard?!" she exclaimed, suddenly recognizing his faltering tone.

"Thank God you're all right! When I learned what Sandy had done..." His voice
trailed off in a mixture of horror and relief.

"I may be alive, and at work, but I'm far from all right," she said softly.
"What kind of psycho bitch have you got yourself hooked up with?"

"Sandra's not psychotic. She's just extremely jealous, and rich enough to get
whatever she wants thanks to a father who spoils her rotten. It's really not
her fault that she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth," he added
defensively.

"Yeah, well, it's time someone took that spoon out of her mouth and shoved it
up her ass," Pam snarled.

"You...you wouldn't hurt her, would you?" Howard asked, but there was
something besides concern in his voice. Arousal?

"Me? I'm not in any shape to hurt a fly, even when I'm not recovering from
getting my ass kicked," she replied.

"Oh."

Was it her imagination or did he actually sound disappointed? "But somebody
needs to give her highness a royal beating, that's for sure. Did you want
anything else? I mean, not to be rude, but I need to get back to work."

"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you," he said quickly. "I just wanted
to make sure you were all right."

"I didn't say you were bothering me, Howard, just that I needed to get back to
work. Do you want to meet for drinks later? It sounds like we've got some
things to talk about..."

"I'd love to, but I'm not so sure that would be a good idea."

"Sure, I understand. Take care of yourself, Howard," she said, reaching for
the disconnect button.

"You, too, Pam. And I really am sorry to have caused you all this trouble."

"Forget it, it wasn't your fault. Well, not exactly. See ya in your dreams,"
she said with a giggle as she severed the connection.

* * * * *

Simone's Porsche pulled up to the licensing building and she waited for Lupe
to make a move to get out. But the big Spaniard just looked at her with
soulful brown eyes and, with a sound that was part laugh and part sigh, the
actress gunned the engine and shot back out into traffic.

"For someone over a hundred years old," she commented as she swung into a
parking stall, "you can be such a baby."

"This is all very new to Lupe, querida," she replied, leaning over and kissing
Simone on the cheek.

"I know it is," she said, turning and kissing her back. "Now, come on and
let's get this over with."

The two women climbed out of the car and, turning heads of both men and women
along the way, entered the aged brick structure. They rode the elevator up to
the third floor and then found the office that handled licensing. As Simone
had expected, there was a considerable line in front of the window they
needed.

"While you're waiting in line, dear, I'll sit over there and make some calls,
all right?" the actress asked, indicating a chair on the far side of the room.

"You won't leave Lupe alone?"

"I promise I'll be right over there and when I see you've made it up to the
window, I'll join you, okay?"

Lupe half-scowled but reluctantly nodded.

"Cheer up, darling. It's not as bad as all that," Simone smiled, kissing her
quickly and then making her way over to the empty chair. She immediately
removed her cell phone and began making discreet calls to anyone she thought
might be interested in representing her, making sure to let the fact that she
and Lilith had severed their professional relationship slip out during the
course of the conversations.

During one call, however, her connection became garbled, and, after noting
that Lupe was still a few people away from the window, rushed out into the
hallway in an effort to improve it. When that didn't help, she made her way to
an open window and leaned over so that her head and the phone were sticking
out of it and was finally able to continue the conversation.

Meanwhile, Lupe made it to the window much more quickly than Simone had
expected.

"Can I help you, miss?" asked the bored looking woman behind the glass.

Lupe frantically looked around the room for some sign of her lover, but
couldn't spot her anywhere.

The clerk loudly cleared her throat. "I asked if I could help you, miss?" she
repeated irritably.

Swallowing hard, Lupe turned to face her and said in a meek voice, "Lupe would
like to become a private dick."

The woman stifled a laugh and asked, "Do you have proof that you've logged at
least 6,000 hours with a licensed investigator or spent at least three years
as a law enforcement officer?"

The confused Spaniard shook her head. "Lupe thought she only needed to pay
some money," she said slowly.

"Not in California, honey," the clerk replied. "Here. This will tell you
exactly what you need to do to become a 'private dick.'" She handed Lupe a
pamphlet and then gestured for the person behind her to move forward.

When Lupe just stood there, staring at the paper in her hand, the clerk asked,
"Was there something else, miss? Like maybe a license to become a secret agent
or super hero?" She and the people in line laughed as Lupe shook her head and
quickly raced out of the office.

Simone looked over just in time to see the big Spaniard flash across the hall
and into the stairwell. "I gotta go, Marilee, but I'll see you later tonight,"
she said, snapping the phone closed and sprinting after Lupe.

Upon reaching the lobby, Lupe burst out the main doors and ran across the
street, narrowly avoiding a car by vaulting over it, to a small square of
grass that served as a little park, complete with benches, where the city
employees enjoyed their lunches. Ignoring the few people around her, she threw
herself onto the cool grass and began to cry.

A few seconds later Simone exited the building and looked about anxiously for
the Spaniard. Hearing the sobbing, she spotted her on the grass and rushed
over to her.

"Hey, what's wrong, Lupe?" she asked, kneeling next to her and stroking her
hair.

In reply, she simply held out the badly crumpled pamphlet and continued to
cry.

Simone read the brochure and shook her head. "I...I had no idea the
requirements were so strict, baby. I'm sorry."

"You left me," Lupe said quietly, getting her sobbing under control.

"I was just out in the hall. I had-"

"You promised that you wouldn't," Lupe continued, refusing to look at the
actress.

"I was just gone for-"

"Please take Lupe to Dr. Trotter's."

"I said I was sorry, Lupe. Please don't be like this," Simone said softly,
trying to get Lupe to look at her. But the Spaniard still refused.

"Will you take Lupe, or must she walk?"

Simone sighed and stood up. "Of course I'll take you."

The ride to Dr. Trotter's house seemed to take hours, thanks to the silence
that pervaded the car. When they finally arrived, Lupe got out without a word
and walked right past Cassandra, who had come out when she heard Simone's car
pull up, and into the house.

"What's wrong with her?" the doctor asked, walking over to where Simone still
sat in her car, frowning. Dr. Trotter was an attractive, middle-aged black
woman with deep mahogany skin and gentle brown eyes.

"We had a...misunderstanding," the actress replied.

"I see," nodded Cassandra. "Are you going to come in and clear it up, or do
you intend to follow Lupe's lead and be immature as well?"

"I think we might be better off with some time apart," Simone said, revving
her car's engine. "She can call when she's ready to see me."

"You can do the same when you're ready to see her, you know," Cassie said.

Simone punched the gas and tore out of the driveway and Dr. Trotter shook her
head and made her way inside. She found Lupe sitting in the kitchen and eating
an enormous sandwich made of several different meats, cheeses, and every
topping in her fridge.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked, heading for the refrigerator. "I'm kind of
hungry myself. That is, assuming there's any food left, of course."

Lupe didn't so much as crack a smile as she continued eating.

Cassandra sighed and fixed herself a much smaller sandwich. "Won't you at
least tell me about what happened?" she asked, sitting down at the table as
the big Spaniard finished her meal.

"Simone broke a promise. She said she would be there and she wasn't. And
people laughed at Lupe," she said, sniffing and wiping her red eyes.

"What people, dear?" she asked.

"The people at the place where Lupe tried to get her private dick's license,"
she replied, handing her the mangled pamphlet.

Cassie nodded as she read the requirements and patted her hand soothingly.
"It's okay, Lupe. I'm sure Simone had no idea it would be so difficult to get
a license. She's used to just paying for anything she wants."

"Including Lupe?" the other woman asked, looking up at the doctor with tears
running down her cheeks.

"Oh! No, dear, I didn't mean that. Not at all," Cassie said quickly. Then,
changing the subject, she suggested, "Let's call an old friend of mine and see
if we can't get you a job at his agency, all right?"

"What does your friend do?"

"He's a private dick," Cassie smiled, heading for the phone.

* * * * *

Saba glanced over at her partner, Rick Kenyan, and shook her head in mock
disbelief. "You're kidding, right?" she asked as the pair headed through one
of LA's more exclusive suburbs. This was the last patrol of their shift and
they were eager to turn in their car and go home. Saba Trotter was a beautiful
woman with a much lighter complexion than her mother and features that were
more Asian than Negroid, including almond shaped green eyes. She had thick
black hair that was cut short and an athletic figure, with powerful legs, a
tight stomach, and a large chest.

"So help me, Sahib, it's the truth," he replied, holding up his hand with the
palm facing her. Rick was a few years older than Saba but was in even better
shape, with thickly muscled arms and a rock-solid upper body. He had dark
hair, worn short and neat, and serious dark eyes that drove most women wild.
"She offered to-Holy! Watch out!"

Saba was already braking hard, having seen the woman stumble out into the
street even before her partner. The car skidded to a halt inches from where
the woman's head rested on the concrete, seemingly oblivious to the vehicle.

Rick and Saba were beside her in an instant, checking for wounds or some sign
of trauma. But much to their amazement, she didn't have so much as a scratch
on her. Still, she seemed to be in shock as she lay on the street like a rag
doll. She was very attractive, and very well built, as they could plainly see
from the tight-fitting jogging outfit she was wearing. Her blonde hair was
tied back in a ponytail and it was obvious from the amount of sweat on her
face and suit that she'd been running for some time.

"Miss, can you tell us what happened?" Rick asked as Saba checked the area
she'd staggered into the street from.

Saba glanced back as she made her way down a paved jogging path and then
stopped when she felt her foot step into something soft and squishy. She
looked down and saw that she'd stepped into a pile of fresh vomit. Disgusted,
she hopped over to a tree next to the path and began to scrape her shoe off on
its rough bark.

And that's when she saw the body.

Or what was left of it anyway. "Rick!" she called. "I've found a body. See
what she knows while I call it in to homicide."

Rick nodded and continued trying to communicate with the shaken up jogger as
Saba used her shoulder radio to alert headquarters about the body.

* * * * *

Charlie Wrangle was an old man. Old enough to remember the days when being a
private detective involved more commuting than computing. He had been a
firsthand witness to the transition from hard work to high-tech and he hadn't
enjoyed it when many of his fellow investigators jumped headlong into the
impersonal world of personal surveillance. He refused to jump. He refused to
walk. Heck, he refused to move. Instead, Charlie Wrangle had obstinately
remained steadfastly in the 20th century, continuing to employ the methods
he'd learned from Alan Ladd, Robert Mitchum, and, of course, Humphrey Bogart
as a child sitting in darkened theatres, or later, as an adult in the privacy
of his home.

He didn't care for the new breed of detectives, with their fancy gadgets and
high-tech snooping devices. Meddlers, that's what they were. Pests who didn't
give a damn about their clients' values, just their valuables. Fortunately for
Charlie, in one respect he hadn't followed in the footsteps of his silver
screen idols: He'd invested his money and had made enough to live comfortably,
despite his almost non-existent clientele.

Oh, it hadn't been his idea. Not at all. He had his late wife to thank for
that. Millie had started out as his secretary and eventually become his
partner, in more ways than one. She was the one who'd seen to it that they'd
have something to see them through their golden years. The only problem was
that she'd died of cancer a few years ago, leaving Charlie very much alone in
the post 2K world.

And then he'd met Cassandra Trotter. She was younger than he was, a child of
the computer age, to be sure, but she was different. Like Millie, she knew all
the old movies and the way things were supposed to be done in the detective
racket. She was a real student of the game and spent many hours talking to
Charlie about his old cases, interested in every detail. He knew she was just
pumping him for information for the series of books she was writing, but he
didn't care. Any excuse to talk about the way things had been, to talk to
anyone at all, really, was a welcome change in his routine.

They had become friends very quickly and Charlie often imagined that if he'd
been 20 years younger, they would have been lovers.

Still, he wasn't exactly thrilled when he heard Cassie's proposal.

"You want me to take on an assistant?" he questioned, pressing the phone
tightly to his ear to make sure he was hearing her correctly.

"That's right. Her name is Lupe and she wants to be a private dick, a real
private dick, Charles, more than anything."

"But, Cassie, you know I'm lucky to get a client a month and it's been over
three since I've had a case worth my time-All people want now are videos of
their unfaithful lovers. All the romance has gone out of this town, toots," he
sighed. "I'm a dinosaur. No sense making her one, too."

"But it's what she wants, Charles. Honest. Maybe once she sees that it's not
like in the movies she'll change her mind and move on, but don't you think she
should at least have a chance to find out for herself? Maybe she'll surprise
you."

"I can't afford to pay her very much..." he said slowly.

"Don't worry about that. I'll take care of it," Cassandra said airily.

"She's listening, isn't she?"

"Sharp as ever, Charles."

Charlie took a deep breath and then looked around at his office. It was a
mess, and it would be nice to have some company in here... "Okay, Cass, it's a
deal. Bring her over tomorrow and I'll get her started on her new career."

"Thanks, Charles, you won't regret this," she said with a grin in Lupe's
direction, causing the big Spaniard to let out a "Whoop!" of delight.

Charlie grimaced at the sound and said, "Yeah, I hope not. See ya tomorrow,
sweets." He hung up the phone and lowered his head onto his desk.

* * * * *

"Oh, thank you ever so much, Dr. Blotter!" Lupe exclaimed, grabbing the
smaller woman in a tight bear hug as soon as she set the phone down. "I'm so
excited!"

"Maybe you should call Simone and tell her the good news...?" the winded
doctor suggested slyly.

Lupe stopped spinning and looked into the dark eyes of her friend. "Yes, maybe
I should," she said, nodding her head and setting the doctor back on the
floor.

She was about to pick up the phone when Saba's car suddenly screeched to a
halt in the driveway and the young woman rushed inside, obviously distraught.

Cassandra swept her daughter into her arms and was astonished to hear her
crying. Saba never cried. "There, there, everything is all right. Goodness,
what's got you so upset, dear?" she asked, doing her best to soothe her.

"Oh, mama, it was horrible! I've seen dead bodies before--Not many, but enough
to know it's never pleasant-but nothing like this! She was just a child,
mother, barely out of her teens, but what he did to her..." She shuddered.
"Her face was beaten to a bloody pulp, her throat was torn out, and she'd been
partially... eaten! The only witness we have claims she saw a figure leaning
over the body and gnawing on it, but the man rushed off before she could get a
good look at him."

"Could it have been a woman, senorita?" Lupe asked, walking in from the
hallway.

"What are you doing here?" Saba demanded, quickly wiping her eyes.

"Now, dear, Lupe is staying here. You know that," her mother said gently.

"This is private. Between me and my mother. So, if you'd kindly-"

"No, senorita, this is not private. Again I ask, could the figure have been a
woman?" Lupe pressed, something like desperation in her brown eyes.

"I said it was a woman. She was around twenty, maybe younger."

"Not the victim, senorita, the one who was over the body. Could that figure
have been a woman?" Lupe asked.

"I suppose so...the witness didn't get a very good look. We just assumed it
was a man..." Saba said. "What difference does it make to you?" She looked
suspiciously at the Spaniard, but Lupe ignored the question.

"Where was this body found?" she asked.

"I'm not answering any more of your questions until you tell me why this is so
important to you," Saba declared.

"Lupe has just been hired by Charles as an assistant, dear," Cassandra said
quickly. "I'm sure she's just practicing her detecting skills."

Saba snorted. "Leave this to the professionals, honey."

"Have there been similar murders lately? Ones in which the bodies appear to
have been devoured and their throats torn out?" Lupe asked.

"Not that it's any of your business, but, no, there haven't. Listen, amateur,
this city has close to a hundred homicides each year and most of them go
unsolved. If you wanna play detective, fine, but stick to divorces and finding
lost puppies and leave the important cases to the police."

"So they can go unsolved?" Lupe smirked.

"You've been hanging around Simone too much, Lupe. You're adopting her bad
habits. I put up with it from her, but don't go thinking that same privilege
extends to you. Push me too far and I'll come down on you like-"

"Saba! I will not have you threatening my friends! And certainly not in my
house. And, let me warn you that Lupe might be more than you can handle, dear,
so maybe you'll want to think twice about pressing this any further," Cassie
warned.

Saba grunted and fixed her jade eyes on the Spaniard. "She doesn't scare me."

Lupe shrugged her shoulders and headed for the living room, where she sat down
and turned on the television, impatiently clicking the remote until she found
a news channel.

"...Stern apparently suffocated to death on his own flatulence. The
self-proclaimed King of All Media was 54. In other news, a grisly discovery in
Los Angeles has officials on the lookout for a cannibalistic killer. The body
of an unidentified woman was found earlier today by a jogger who claims she
surprised a figure eating the gruesome remains in the Beverly Hills
neighborhood where she lives. Police have no suspects at this time and are
asking anyone else who might have seen something suspicious to contact their
homicide department immediately. President-elect Norwood again denied rumors
of an impending-"

Lupe switched off the TV. "How close are we to this Beverly Hills?" she asked
Cassandra.

Dr. Trotter swallowed uneasily and Saba said, "A couple of miles. Why?"

"Lupe is thinking she should visit it," the Spaniard replied, "so she can see
for herself the scheme of the crime."

Saba rolled her eyes. "I'm outta here, mom. Keep her on a short leash so she
doesn't get in the way, okay?" She leaned down and kissed her mother and then
walked out to her car without so much as a glance at Lupe.

"All right, Lupe, why the interest in this murder?" Cassie asked once her
daughter was gone.

"It's just a munch, but Lupe has a stinking feeling she knows who is
impossible for it," she replied.

"Who would that be, dear?" Cassandra inquired.

"Someone I'd hoped was long since dead," she said wistfully.

Romania-1912

After Rolph had left her, and despite his advice, Lupe had remained in her
village until the next full moon. While in her wolf form she had terrorized
her neighbors and their livestock, but at least no one had been injured or
infected with the lycanthropy virus. Still, she decided it would be best to do
as Rolph suggested and leave her home. Her parents told her that her only hope
for a cure was the Gypsies who lived in Romania, who were said to practice all
sorts of magic and had dealings with undead spirits. "If anyone can cure you
from this curse, my child," her father had said, "the Gypsies can." Her mother
had cried at the thought of losing her daughter, but she knew it was for the
best.

So, after traveling across the continent-And having some adventures along the
way, as you might expect from Lupe-she arrived in Klausenburgh, Romania. It
wasn't exactly what she'd expected.

From her father's descriptions, and that of Bram Stoker in his celebrated
novel, which she'd read on the last leg of her train journey, she thought the
sky would be dark, cloudy, and full of ominous forked lightning. But it was a
beautiful, if somewhat chilly, late autumn day, not unlike those in her own
village, and she chided herself for being so superstitious as she collected
her single bag and headed for the front of the station in hopes of hiring a
trap.

She got into a horse-drawn carriage and the driver, a somewhat scruffy looking
man in his middle-to-late years, asked her, "Where be you wanting to go, miss
lady?" in broken English.

She opened her mouth to reply and then suddenly realized she had no idea where
she wanted to go. Where does one look for Gypsies? she asked herself. "I'm
looking for, that is, I need to find...Do you know where any Gypsies are?" she
finally blurted out. Her English wasn't very good, Spanish being her native
tongue, and French and German being the dominant languages of the continent,
but she apparently made herself understood because the driver grinned and
nodded and whipped his horse into a fast trot out of the station's front lot.

She sat back and did her best to enjoy the ride through downtown Klausenburgh.
It was much as Stoker had described it, with cobbled streets and buildings of
stone. People in all manner of dress rushed to and fro, paying no mind to her
trap as it clattered by them and she saw the outlandish garments the Irishman
had described brought to vivid life. There were the peasants with short
jackets, and round hats, and home-made trousers and the mostly unattractive
women who were very cluttered about the waist; they all had full white sleeves
of some kind or other, and most of them had big belts with a lot of strips of
something fluttering from them. The strangest people she saw were the ones
whom Stoker had referred to as Slovaks, who were more barbarian in their
appearance than the author had described them, with big cowboy hats, baggy
off-white trousers, linen shirts, and enormous leather belts, nearly a foot
wide and all studded over with brass nails. They wore high leather boots, with
the tops of their chinos tucked into them, and most had long, greasy black
hair and heavy moustaches. Even the women.

She was relieved to learn that author had been right when her driver told they
were very harmless and somewhat lacking in natural confidence. Especially when
he pulled to a stop near a clearing just beyond the town where several of
their colorful wagons were camped.

"Gypsies?" she asked, knowing the answer already.

"Gypsies," nodded her driver with a crooked smile.

She sighed and paid the man, all the while keeping an eye on the small band of
wanderers, and then lightly jumped down from the trap and collected her bag.
As the driver whipped his horse back towards town, she cautiously approached
the strange people.

She could see a little over a dozen of the men sitting and standing near the
cabins, a few women huddled in a tight circle near a fire pit, and several
ragged-looking children scampering about. All had the customary dark hair and
swarthy complexions of Gypsies and she stepped forward uncertainly.

When one of the men, a young man in his early twenties with rugged good looks,
began walking toward her, one of the women in the knot by the fire suddenly
jumped up and raced over.

"What you want here, fremd?" she practically spat at Lupe. She was also young,
barely twenty from the look of her, with a full chest, thin waist and generous
hips. Her dark eyes flashed angrily at the Spaniard from a face too lovely to
belong to her people and her tiny hands clenched and unclenched furiously.

Before Lupe could reply the man had reached them. "Forgive Rasita, lovely
Fraulein," he said, flashing a silver-capped smile at her as he placed his
hands on the Gypsy's shoulders and dug his fingers in until she whimpered.
"She was born jealous of all women where I am concerned. I am Marko. Welcome
to our camp."

Rasita irately shook free and stalked back to the other women, casting
dangerous glances over her shoulder the whole way.

"I'm Lupe. A pleasure to meet you, Marko," she replied in English, the
language he'd spoken to her in.

"Ah, forgive me, senorita, for addressing you as a Fraulein. I should have
seen the fire in your eyes and known you were Iberian," he said with a wink.
"I'm sorry that word is the extent of my Spanish, however."

"That's all right," she said with a laugh. "How is your German?"

"Nearly as bad as my French, but I seem to be able to make myself understood,"
he replied in that tongue.

"We'll use that, then, since my English is appalling."

Marko diplomatically said nothing about that, instead offering his arm and
whistling for one of the boys to come over and carry her bag.

"So, senorita, what brings you to our camp?" he asked pleasantly, but there
was also suspicion in his eyes.

"I've come for...advice," she replied uncertainly.

"Advice, huh?" Marko queried with a gruff laugh. "Forgive me, senorita, but of
all the things outsiders come to my people for, advice is surely the last."
Then, seeing the embarrassment on her face, he smacked his forehead and said,
"Oh, what an idiot I am! I should have understood that you would feel
uncomfortable talking to a man about your feminine troubles."

Lupe just nodded slightly, feeling guilty about misleading him, but also not
ready to divulge the true reason for her seeking out his people.

"You will naturally want to talk to Ezmina, our elder. She can answer all of
your questions," he assured her with a winning smile.

"I hope so," she said under her breath.

"Unfortunately, Ezmina is away at the moment, attending to some business in
another town. She should be back in a few days," he explained.

"A few days?" Lupe pressed, realizing with a sinking feeling that would put
her return at the beginning of her three days as a wolf.

"Is your...problem so urgent?" he asked, his curiosity reawakened.

"No, I suppose not," she said quickly. "It's just that I've no place to stay
and-"

"Don't trouble yourself about that, senorita. You are more than welcome to
stay with us until Ezmina returns. In fact, I insist on it," he said with a
deep bow.

Lupe looked down at him and happened to catch sight of Rasita's disapproving
glare. "I would be happy to, Marko," she said with a smile directed squarely
at the Gypsy girl.

"Excellent, senorita," he said, pressing his lips to her hand before standing
up. "I promise you a stay you'll not soon forget or ever have cause to
regret." He then introduced her to the others in his band. The men were
gracious, but not overly attentive, sensing that Marko had designs on the
Spaniard and deferring to his claim, for the time being. The women were
pleasant but cold; obviously feeling threatened by the beautiful foreigner.
The children, however, were friendly to the point of rudeness, poking and
prodding her every chance they got, begging for chewing gum and other candies.
They were wildly disappointed when they found she had none, but the letdown
did nothing to lessen their gregarious attitude and Marko had to shoo them
away from her numerous times before she convinced him that she didn't mind.

For dinner she was served a spicy dish of chicken, red peppers, and no small
amount of paprika. The women obviously expected it to be too hot for her by
the way they watched her every mouthful with anxious, dark eyes. But having
grown up in the shadow of Pico de Aneto, the highest mountain of the Pyrenees,
piquant foods had been a regular staple of her diet and, to be honest, she
found the meal a bit bland.

After the dishes had been cleared away, the men brought out their instruments
and began to play. Marko and a few of the younger men danced to the strains of
the violins, spinning and jumping with incredible speed and grace until they
looked as if they would simply drop dead from exhaustion. Finally, however,
the music slowed and the women joined in the celebration of life itself.

Marko approached, his handsome features drenched in an intoxicating sweat
Lupe's sharp sense of smell found almost irresistible, and invited her to join
him.

Rasita would have stormed over and voiced her displeasure had one of the young
men not held onto her firmly. Even so, her eyes warned the Spaniard to refuse
with unmistakable clarity.

"I'd be honored," Lupe replied, her eyes fixed on her rival as she stood up
and allowed Marko to lead her to the middle of the clearing they were using as
a makeshift dance floor.

Lupe's long skirt fluttered and waved as her long legs moved in perfect rhythm
to the beautiful music and she twirled and fell against her charming partner
every chance she got. Soon she was sweating from more than just physical
exertion.

Then, at Rasita's urging, one of the men pulled out a guitar and the staccato
strumming of a classical flamenco number filled the starry sky. But if she had
thought to embarrass Lupe by having the man play Spanish music, she was very
disappointed. Lupe immediately grabbed the hem of her skirt and lifted it up
above her knees as her feet stamped in time to the familiar tune and the men
and women, and even the children, clapped in rapid succession, encouraging her
needlessly as her heels dug into the soft earth.

Suddenly, the music stopped so abruptly that Lupe nearly lost her balance. She
looked about, worried that she'd done something to offend her hosts, but saw
that their eyes weren't even looking in her direction. Instead, they were
without exception, including Rasita, Lupe was startled to notice, fixed on
something behind her with a mixture of both fear and loathing.

Turning around she saw a tall man with shocking blonde hair and blue eyes. He
had once had a powerful build, she guessed, but now his form was gaunt almost
to the point of withered and he looked more like a stick figure drawn by an
artistically-challenged youth than a man. A ridiculously long mustache was
draped over his upper lip that hung below his square chin and his fingers were
long and far too delicate for such a large man.

Marko stepped forward, past Lupe, and confronted the stranger. "We've told you
before that you're not welcome here, Herr Forrade," he snapped.

"True, Marko, but, sadly, your people are the only ones who can supply me with
certain herbs and substances which I need for my...experiments." the man
called Forrade replied smoothly, fixing his eyes directly on those of the
Gypsy.

Marko laughed and removed a pungent-smelling pouch from beneath his shirt that
was fastened around his neck with a thin cord. "Your mind tricks won't work on
me, old wizard," he said, wagging it under the stranger's nose.

Forrade started back, fear lighting his bright eyes as he pulled his cloak up
and over his nose and mouth. "Very well, Marko. But let me remind you that
it's better to have the Devil for an ally than en enemy."

"And let me remind you, Herr Forrade, that having the Devil as a friend is
worse than the darkest curse the Holy Mother can damn you with."

Forrade made a sound very much like a snarl and then was about to turn and go
when he suddenly stopped and sniffed the air like a dog trying to catch a
faint scent. Slowly his gaze rested on Lupe and he smiled at her, revealing
very white, sharp teeth behind his crimson lips.

"So long as we are exchanging proverbs, my friend, let me leave you with this
one: Only a fool thinks he can tame a wolf and take the blood from its hunger
by feeding it a diet of leftovers and scraps," he said coldly, but the words
seemed directed more at Lupe than the Gypsy. Then, before Marko could reply,
he turned and with his long cloak fluttering behind him like the wings of a
great bird, or bat, was gone.

Lupe moved towards him but stopped when she realized that all of the Gypsies'
eyes were now fixed firmly on her. A few of the older women made strange
gestures at her with their fingers and the children huddled fearfully at the
feet of their parents.

Marko came up behind her and placed his hands protectively on her shoulders,
even though they were essentially the same height. "Pay the old sorcerer's
words no mind," he said to both Lupe and his people. "He but seeks to alarm us
because we will not do business with him."

Some of the Gypsies nodded agreement and smiled apologetically at Lupe, but
others, particularly the women, were clearly not convinced that Forrade had
just been trying to frighten them and continued to regard Lupe warily and kept
their children close.

Marko announced that it was time to turn in for the night and led Lupe to a
wagon that contained almost nothing but a very large, very soft bed. After
removing some blankets from a beautifully decorated wooden chest at the foot
of the bed, he bid her good night and prepared to close the back flap.

"Is this your wagon, Marko?" she asked, kneeling on the bed and staring at him
guiltily.

"It is, senorita, but do not fret over me. I prefer to sleep under the stars."

"Even over sleeping with me?" she asked, licking her lips enticingly.

"Senorita, I may be a gentleman, but I'm no fool," he grinned, dropping the
blankets and climbing into the wagon.

Rasita watched him disappear inside, her anger growing with every second until
her nails had actually drawn blood because her fists were clenched so tightly.
Then, as the wagon began to slowly rock back and forth, she gave a little
growl of fury and ran into the darkness, crying and cursing.

"Is there a problem, little one?" asked Forrade, appearing suddenly before
her.

She drew back, afraid, but then eyed the wizard curiously. "They say you are a
powerful sorcerer. Is it true?" she inquired.

"They say many untrue, unkind things about me, little one, but in this
instance at least, they are right."

"Can you make me a potion that will make Marko love only me?"

Forrade shook his head. "Alas, little one, I cannot. Not without the proper
ingredients," he quickly added when she turned away from him.

She faced him once more. "Tell me what you need, old man, and I will get it
for you."

He smiled. "Excellent, little one. Marko shall be yours before the next full
moon. I guarantee it."

She nodded and waited as he scribbled out a list of the things he wanted.
"Where shall I bring them? Are you staying in town?" she asked, briefly
glancing over the items before stuffing the paper down her blouse.

Forrade shook his head. "I'll meet you here tomorrow night. At moonrise," he
added with a low chuckle.

"Fine. But know this, old devil, if your charm doesn't work I will cut out
your heart. If you have one," she added, spitting at the ground and then
heading back to the Gypsy camp.

Forrade laughed softly and then walked slowly away, seeming to vanish in the
low fog which had crept in while they were talking.

* * * * *

Lupe awoke the next morning to find Marko gone, but a beautiful Gypsy outfit
hanging near the foot of the bed. The note pinned to it read:

Senorita,

You may not have been born a Gypsy, but you have more passion than any woman
of my people I have ever known. Consider these clothes my welcoming gift to
our tribe to you.

Marko

She quickly slipped into the new clothes, which consisted of a low-cut white
cotton blouse, embroidered with a dazzling array of colors along its edges, a
bright skirt made of a variety of materials with the predominant color being
blue, a pair of leather boots that stopped just below her knees, and several
colorful scarves, one of which she wound around her forehead and one that she
wore around her waist like a belt, and then exited the wagon.

As she expected, the men whistled in appreciation while the women gasped and
began whispering among themselves. When Rasita emerged from a wagon and saw
Lupe dressed as one of her people, her eyes darkened ominously and the
Spaniard braced herself for another confrontation. But Rasita just smiled
wickedly and then proceeded to pointedly ignore her as she went about her
business.

Lupe didn't know whether to be relieved or worried.

"Ah, there is my Gypsy queen," Marko exclaimed, approaching and kneeling
before her, offering her a plate of eggs and sausages as if it were tribute.

Lupe laughed and accepted the breakfast with one hand while she pulled him to
his feet with the other and kissed him hard on the mouth.

"She obviously approves of my gift," he said with a wink to the others, most
of whom laughed.

After breakfast Marko invited Lupe to go into town with him to run several
errands and she eagerly accepted. But when they went to fetch a horse to hook
to his wagon, none of the animals would come anywhere near the Spaniard,
instead stamping their feet nervously while their eyes rolled back with fear.

Marko passed off their behavior with a shrug. "Skittish beasts," he shrugged.
"It's a fine day for a walk anyway." He held out his arm and she accepted it.

As they walked away from the camp, she noticed that Rasita kept looking from
the uneasy horses to her, not liking the expression on the woman's face at
all. In fact, it reminded her of the one that Forrade had given her last
night. "Who was that blonde man last night?" she asked innocently as they
walked down the dirt road towards the town.

"Forrade? Don't trouble your head over him, senorita. He's just a bitter old
man we seem to have the misfortune of running into wherever we travel on this
globe," he said with a half-smile.

"But who is he, Marko? You called him a wizard. Is he really?" she pressed,
doing her best to keep up the appearance of harmless conversation to pass the
time on their walk.

"His name is Audon Forrade and he comes from the lands far to the north. As
for his occupation, well, he claims to be a sorcerer, but I've never seen him
work any spells or conjurations. I do know he's evil, though, senorita. Of
that I've no doubt at all," he said seriously, looking into her eyes. "Any
more questions?"

She nodded. "Just one."

"Well, what is it?" sighed Marko, shaking his head.

"Where did you learn to do that thing with your mustache?" she said, breaking
into a huge grin.

The man tossed back his head and laughed, ignoring the disapproving looks from
the other people on the street. "That, senorita, is an old Gypsy secret," he
said, tweaking her nose affectionately.

* * * * *

That evening after dinner instead of celebrating with music some of them men
engaged in tests of strength that sort of resembled wrestling matches. The
object was to grapple with your opponent until you could bodily pick him and
slam him to the ground enough times that he eventually submitted. Marko, with
his powerfully built, bare chest open to the night air, easily dominated most
of the others, but one or two of the more experienced grapplers did manage to
uplift him a couple of times before finally admitting their own defeats.

After each victory he received a long, deep kiss from Lupe.

As he approached the Spaniard for his reward after a particularly hard-fought
match, Rasita suddenly rushed over and slapped Lupe hard across the face,
snapping her head around with the unexpected blow.

"Enough! I challenge the fremd to a match," she announced, glaring at her
rival as she unwound a long scarf from her waist and began tying one end
around her wrist.

"Don't be silly, Rasita," Lupe said, rubbing her stinging cheek, "I'm too big
for you to lift up, let alone slam to the ground."

"Ah, but, senorita, the women do not compete in the same fashion as the men,"
Marko explained. "It would not be proper."

"Oh? How do the women's matches work, then?" she asked, noting the smirk on
Rasita's face.

"You will tie this end of the scarf to your wrist and we will fight like women
have always fought," her rival sneered. "Unless you are afraid. Is the big
senorita afraid of a leetle Gypsy girl?" she asked mockingly, waving the free
end of the scarf under Lupe's nose.

"Not likely, sister," Lupe snarled, tying the scarf around her wrist and then
following Rasita out to the center of the clearing. She felt the Gypsy pulling
back on the scarf and, thinking she was trying to pull her off-balance,
naturally pulled back. "How does this start?" she asked.

Rasita suddenly lunged forward, using the Spaniard's grip on the scarf against
her, and drove her knee into Lupe's gut. "Like this!" she cried as the taller
woman dropped gasping to her knees. She then quickly raced behind Lupe and
looped the scarf around her throat, pulling it taut as she pressed her knee
into the small of her back, arching the spine painfully.

Lupe gagged and desperately reached up with her free hand and, grabbing the
front of Rasita's blouse, flipped her over her shoulder to land on her back in
front of her. But before she could even unwind the choking scarf from her
throat, Rasita was back on her feet and, looping the scarf more tightly around
her neck than before, proceeded to flip Lupe over her shoulder and onto her
ass. Keeping her hold on the scarf, she repeated the move over and over,
flipping the dazed, choking Spaniard all around the clearing until they came
to a stop near the fire pit.

"Would you like to surrender now, bitch?" Rasita hissed into her ear as Lupe
struggled to pry the scarf from her throat. Lupe's only reply was a strangled
gasping. "I guess we'll continue, then," the Gypsy laughed, standing up and
whipping her body around so that the scarf was pulled even more tightly
against the Spaniard's windpipe as Lupe was hurled away from her.

But when Lupe instinctively continued to twirl, the scarf unwound from around
her neck and she immediately massaged her aching throat. "Enough," she croaked
in a barely audible whisper.

Rasita, however, was far from finished and she yanked hard on the scarf,
nearly pulling Lupe off her feet and causing her to stumble awkwardly towards
her. Whereupon she met her with a sold forearm to that selfsame smarting neck,
dropping Lupe to her back. She quickly rewound the scarf around the neck and
proceeded to flip Lupe again, this time right into the embers on the edge of
the fire pit.

Lupe howled in agony as the hot coals burned through her lovely new clothes
and singed her flesh.

"That's enough, Rasita!" Marko shouted, rushing forward.

Then Lupe deliberately grabbed one of the remnants and held it against the
scarf tied around her wrist, burning it until it burst into fine ash, leaving
the two women free of each other. "No, Marko," she said, patting the smoking
remains of her skirt and then just giving up and stepping out of it, leaving
her in nothing but panties, blouse and boots. "Now we fight Lupe's way."

She suddenly lunged at the smaller woman, ramming her head deep into the
Gypsy's belly and bringing a welcome grunt of pain and surprise from her rival
as she stumbled backwards. Lupe wrapped her arms around Rasita's waist and
then reared back and drove her hard into the ground, in much the same way the
men had done to each other earlier and the Gypsy girl let out another pitiful
gasp as the air was driven from her lungs.

Lupe smiled and stood up, dragging the coughing woman up by her hair and then
burying a fist deep into the already hurting gut over and over again until
Rasita's legs gave out and she sank to her knees, unable to defend herself.
Lupe wasn't finished yet, though. She crashed the side of her thigh into the
Gypsy's face, tearing the woman's dark hair from her grasp in the process and
causing Rasita to land on her side, sobbing in the grass.

The Spaniard nodded and flipped her to her back with a kick. She then dropped
heavily on the heaving gut and slapped the defeated Gypsy across the face
sharply several times. "Do you surrender, bitch?" she demanded. When Rasita's
only reply was a sobbing gasp, she smiled and said, "I guess not." She bounced
up and down on her tummy a couple of times and then reached down and dug her
claw-like fingernails through the light material and directly into the
helpless Gypsy's tits, drawing screams of anguish from the woman.

"Get off me, you devil bitch!" Rasita managed to shriek.

"Do you give up?" Lupe demanded, slapping her face again.

Rasita wailed wordlessly and Lupe went back to work on her breasts.

"I think she's had enough, Lupe," Marko said, laying a hand on her shoulder.

"Not until she tells me she gives up," Lupe snarled, bouncing up and down on
her gut.

"I give up, you Spanish whore! I give up! I give up!" Rasita shouted, glaring
darkly into the face of her tormentor.

"It's about time," Lupe said, standing up and placing the heel of her boot on
the heaving chest and raising her arms in victory. She pushed down just hard
enough to draw one last whimper of pain from her beaten foe before removing
her foot.

Most of the Gypsies were too stunned to do anything other than stare at her
with their mouths hanging open, but Marko laughed his booming laugh and
scooped her into his arms and they disappeared into his wagon without another
word.

When the women rushed to Rasita's aid she angrily pushed them away and
staggered to her own wagon, her dark eyes never leaving that of her rival.

* * * * *

As Rasita stumbled through the darkness, the pouch containing the items she'd
stolen from Ezmina's private stores clutched tightly in her hands, Forrade
suddenly appeared in front of her. "Gods above! I hate it when you do that,"
she said, gingerly pressing a hand to her still-smarting chest.

"You are late, little one. I thought you had perhaps reconsidered our deal,"
Forrade said ominously. "But now that I get a better look at you, I see that
you've been injured. The blood is still thick in your cheek where you've
sustained a blow," he added, licking his lips unsettlingly.

"I'll be fine, old man. Here are the things you asked for," she frowned,
holding out the sack.

He snatched the bag from her grasp and stared hungrily into it. "Excellent,
little one," he said, nodding excitedly. "I shall be able to make a very
powerful love charm with these."

"I'm no fool, old devil. I know you've no intention of keeping our agreement,"
she said bitterly.

"Do you?" he asked, his eyes almost glowing in the darkness and his ruby lips
parting slightly, revealing the white teeth.

She nodded. "But you seem to know what that Spanish bitch is. I want to know
how to kill her."

Forrade paused, considering this as his gaze lingered on the delicate curve of
the Gypsy's throat, seemingly arguing internally. "Very well, little one," he
finally said after apparently reaching some agreement with himself. "Come here
tomorrow night and I will give you the means to destroy your rival once and
for all."

He turned to go but she grabbed hold of his long cloak. "What is she, Herr
Forrade? I must know," she said desperately.

"A lycanthrope," he replied with a chuckle and then he was gone, leaving the
Gypsy no less confused than she had been before his reply.

* * * * *

Lupe awoke alone once more and with another beautiful set of clothing hanging
near the end of the bed. This time the note read:

Senorita,

After both your performances last night I am more convinced than ever that you
truly are a lost Gypsy Queen. Perhaps you were stolen by Spaniards when you
were a baby?

Marko

She laughed and slipped into the new attire, which was much the same as the
ruined one, except that the predominant color in the skirt was green this time
and the embroidery around the edges of the blouse was all in gold.

This time "Oohs" and "Ahs" greeted her entrance and Marko nodded approvingly
when he saw the outfit on her. "You look more lovely than ever this morning,
senorita. Which is more than can be said for Rasita," he added with a wink,
gesturing to where the Gypsy girl was eating her breakfast among the other
women. Her face was bruised and from the way she was holding her upper body,
Lupe guessed that her breasts were still sore. "It serves her right. I think
she was actually trying to kill you."

Lupe just smiled and helped herself to some breakfast, making sure to catch
the dark-haired woman's eyes just once and give her a fierce grin of triumph.
But the worry she'd felt the other day returned when, instead of looking away,
the Gypsy returned her expression even more intensely.

After the morning meal, since Marko and the other men had "private affairs to
attend to," as the Gypsy put it, Lupe decided to try to get to know some of
the other women of the camp. But as she approached them, they made ominous
gestures at her with their hands and looked quickly away. Wanting to attribute
their coldness to Rasita, but fearing they somehow sensed her true nature, she
elected to go into town instead.

Even though she and Marko had spent the better part of the day in town
yesterday, Lupe had had little opportunity to do some real shopping, one of
her passions, and she was determined to make up for that today.

After the brief walk into town, and thankful that the storm clouds threatening
to burst open and spill their watery contents upon the area had held off from
doing so for the time being at least, she spent the morning poking into every
little store she could find. She did her best to ignore the rude stares and
whispered insults from those who assumed from her attire that she was a Gypsy,
but she found herself leaving more than one store behind because of them.

Depressed that she'd made only a handful of purchases, she found a café and
settled into a chair and table near the window so she could continue to
observe the fascinating populace. Hearing a clearly artificial clearing of the
throat, she looked up and saw a middle-aged man looking down his rather
bulbous nose at her disapprovingly.

"I'd like to see a menu, mein Herr," she said in flawless German.

He scowled and held out a greasy hand. "And I'd like to see some money,
sobolan, before I go to the trouble of preparing a meal I'll never get paid
for," he said, glowering at her so that his eyebrows practically crushed his
gray eyes.

Lupe wasn't sure what sobolan meant, but she was sure it wasn't a compliment.
"Well, let me see..." she said, placing her purse on the table and removing a
thick wad of bills from Spain, France, Italy, and Germany. The man's eyes
bulged with greed at the sight of them and he licked his lips anxiously.
"Nope, I guess I don't have any Romanian funds. Sorry." She gathered her
things and left before he could voice any disingenuous apologies.

Spotting a stall that sold hot soup and cold beer she removed a few Deutsche
Marks from her stash and held them out as she approached to preclude any
repeat of her treatment at the diner. The old woman wrinkled her nose but
nevertheless accepted the money and Lupe eagerly took her food to a little
bench outside a weapon's shop of some kind and gratefully began to eat.

Just as she was finishing her meal three young men emerged from the shop. The
biggest of the trio had a new rifle in his hands and his friends were clearly
envious.

"What are you going to shoot first, Karoly?" asked one eagerly.

"I dunno," the boy with the rifle drawled, sighting along the barrel at the
shop across the way. "Maybe a bird. Or a squirrel." As he continued to swing
the gun around he suddenly saw Lupe standing up. "Or maybe a Gypsy," he said,
pulling back on the trigger of the empty weapon.

"Are you sure you can handle that gun, Knabe?" Lupe asked, approaching so that
the fact she towered over him was evident. "Maybe you should get a toy gun
from the toy maker."

Karoly bristled and suddenly rammed the end of the gun up and into Lupe's
chin, catching her completely off-guard and knocking her back against the
outer wall of the shop.

"Karoly! What are you doing?" exclaimed one of the young men, looking
fearfully around.

"Are you mad?!" demanded the other, trying to wrest the gun from him as he
raised it over the dazed woman.

But Karoly shook off his friend and swung the butt of the rifle around and
right into the side of Lupe's face, sending her sprawling on the ground. He
rammed the stock of the gun deep into her gut and then laughed. "Now it's you
who should be playing with toys, bitch," he snarled, wiping his dark hair back
off his face as he kicked her hard in the side.

"That's enough, Karoly," said one of his friends.

"Enough? Hardly. She called me a boy, Erno," he said, glaring down at the
beautiful woman who lay gasping for breath at his feet. "I mean to show her
how wrong she was about that. Grab her feet, Dorjan. You take her arms, Erno."
He picked up her purse and assorted bags and headed for an opening between two
buildings.

"What are you going to do?" the one called Dorjan asked, nevertheless grabbing
hold of Lupe's ankles.

Erno just rolled his eyes and hoisted her up by her arms and followed Karoly
down the alley between the weapon shop and the next store. The alleyway opened
up into a small yard that the shop owners used mostly as a garbage pile and
several fat, black rats scurried away as the quartet entered.

Karoly grinned and pulled a moth-eaten mattress from one pile. "I thought I
remembered this being here," he said. "Toss her on it."

"Do you think we should do this?" Dorjan asked nervously as Karoly undid his
belt and let his pants fall around his ankles.

"She's just a Gypsy whore, Dorjan," Erno said, smiling cruelly as Karoly
lifted Lupe's dress and ripped her panties off.

As Karoly penetrated her, Lupe's eyes suddenly snapped into focus and she
tried to push him off of her only to be met with a solid punch to her jaw that
loosened a few more of her teeth. "Don't struggle, bitch. Just lay back and
enjoy the ride," Karoly sneered, pumping harder and faster into her.

But Lupe's eyes now burned with rage as she slowly swept her long tongue
around her mouth, wiping the blood away. She raised her legs slowly and
cautiously wrapped them around Karoly's waist, expecting another blow. But he
just smiled and looked over at his friends. "I told you she'd like it," he
crowed.

Then, the big Spaniard locked her ankles and tensed her thighs, squeezing the
startled youth in her vice-like grip.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Karoly gasped, vainly trying to pry apart the twin
pillars crushing the breath from him.

Lupe laughed and raised her upper body off the ground, supporting her full
weight with her powerful arms, and tightened her grip until it looked as if
her scissors would literally cut Karoly's body in half. "Now it's your turn to
enjoy the ride," she said with a toss of her hair.

"Let him go, Gypsy bitch!" Erno commanded, raising his fists as he came at
her.

Without so much as loosening her death-grip on Karoly, Lupe grabbed the
discarded rife and swung it around, cracking the metal barrel sharply across
Erno's knees and dropping him to his back. He howled in pain and rolled back
and forth, the back of his thighs pressed tightly against his chest.

She immediately turned her icy glare to the last of the trio. "Anything to
say?" she asked coldly as Karoly's struggles became more desperate and his
breathing was reduced to a ghastly rasping.

In response, Dorjan turned and ran for the street, screaming for help at the
top of his lungs.

"Damn," said Lupe, exerting one last squeeze until she heard a definite crack
and then letting Karoly's horribly twitching body fall to the filthy ground,
"I was hoping to have more time to play with your friend." She absently kicked
Erno in the face and then rushed from the alley, grabbing her purse and her
sacks of purchases on the way, and then headed out of town as quickly as she
could.

Back in Klausenburgh several men had accompanied the near-hysterical Dorjan
back to the dumping ground and looked in anger at the sight of the two wounded
boys. "Karoly's ribs are crushed," said one of the men, kneeling next to the
boy and gingerly probing his side.

"And Erno's nose has been broken, smashed flat," whistled another, helping the
boy to sit up and giving him a kerchief to catch the incredible amount of
blood.

"All right, just tell us who did this and we'll deal with them," the largest
of the men said, picking up the new rifle meaningfully.

"It was a woman," Dorjan said.

"No woman did this, boy!" spat the older man, glaring at him.

"But it was; a Gypsy woman," Karoly coughed out.

"A Gypsy woman, eh?" said the large man. He scowled darkly and carefully wiped
the blood from the gun. "That's different."

* * * * *

That evening after supper there was no music or wrestling, instead the elders
of the camp gathered everyone close and began to tell stories in hushed
whispers. The children huddled against their mothers, wrapping their tiny arms
around their legs and screaming when the tales reached their terrifying
climaxes. Lupe was even a bit frightened by some of the gruesome stories and
her fingers clenched tightly around Marko's strong hand more than once over
the course of the night.

Then, just when everyone was recovering from a particularly bloody tale about
an unfaithful wife who gets her just desserts from her wood-carving husband,
the oldest member of the troupe, Gregor, cleared his throat and began the
final story of the night.

"Once upon a long time ago," he said, his voice more like the croaking of a
frog than a man's and his grizzled face barely visible in the flickering
firelight, save his eyes which sparkled clear and bright in the dying embers,
"a rich man took to wife a beautiful woman. Now this is hardly an unusual
happening, now or then, but it just so happened that this particular woman was
not only beautiful but cursed besides. Of course, the rich man didn't find
that out until it was too late. But I'm getting ahead of the story," he
chuckled, glancing around the circle of fire-lit faces.

"The man and woman were happy enough until one night the man awoke with the
light of a full moon shining in on him and no sign of his wife."

Lupe shifted uneasily and Rasita smiled in the darkness as Gregor continued.

"He got up and searched the entire house for her but couldn't find her
anywhere within the walls of his great mansion. Distressed, he called his
servants and sent them out into the countryside to look for her, thinking she
might have wandered off in her sleep as he had heard some folks do. But the
only thing the servants found was an enormous wolf feasting on a bloody
carcass. Unable to clearly see what it was in the darkness they chased the
wolf off, wounding it in the process by striking it roughly in the right
shoulder, only to be much relieved when it turned out to be a freshly killed
deer." The listeners all gave a deep sigh of relief and Gregor nodded, knowing
he had them where he wanted them.

"When the sun finally rose the young wife was at last located in the woods.
But what a state she was in! Her fine nightgown was nothing but tatters and
she had a nasty bruise on her right shoulder. And there was dried blood around
her mouth. The rich man was very happy to have her back and gave the matter no
more thought as she was cleaned up and dressed in finery so she could join him
for breakfast. When he asked her about her experiences later in the day she
simply replied that she couldn't remember anything about the previous night."
Some of the Gypsies laughed softly at that, but a fierce glare from Gregor's
steely eyes silenced them. "Once more the rich man put the matter out of his
mind and he and his wife spent a pleasant day together. That night, however,
he insisted on having one of the servants stand watch outside their door to
prevent her from wandering off again despite her protests that it wouldn't
happen again. But he refused to change his mind and the couple went to bed. He
was awakened by the sounds of a scuffle and saw by the light of the full moon
that his wife's side of the bed was once more empty. He sprang to the door and
found the servant he'd posted outside in a puddle of blood, a gaping hole
where his heart should have been. Enormous bloody paw prints led down the
steps. Fearing his wife had been carried off by the same beast which had
killed the unfortunate servant he quickly dressed and followed the trail of
bloodied prints out into the woods."

He paused just long enough to cause them all to lean in ever so slightly.

"Suddenly a huge wolf sprang at him from the darkness!" he cried, grinning
from ear to ear when they all started back. "The man quickly drew his sword
and slashed at the creature as its slavering jaws lunged for his throat. The
wolf gave a pained yelp and then disappeared back into the night, leaving the
man shaken but unhurt. As he retrieved his hat and prepared to continue the
hunt he noticed something in the moonlight. Curious, he picked it up only to
discover that it was one of the beast's paws. He had apparently cut it off
during their brief struggle. He stuffed the bloody trophy into a sack on his
belt and continued his search for both his wife and the wolf but without
success. As he was heading back to his home just after sunrise he heard a
woman crying. Rushing to where the sound was coming from he found his wife
sitting in a thicket and weeping as she cradled the bloody stump of one arm
against her chest. The man's soul was filled with horror as he reached into
the sack on his belt... and removed the hand of his wife with the diamond ring
he'd given her to seal their matrimonial vows plainly on one of the delicate
fingers. Without a word he raised his sword and cut off her head and then
burned the carcass, lest her evil should somehow spread itself even after her
death."

The children squealed in fear and their mothers shushed them and told them to
be quiet or they would attract the attention of a similar monster, which
immediately silenced them.

"An excellent story, Gregor," said Marko, noting how still Lupe had become
during the tale's climax. "And one we've not heard before, if I'm not very
much mistaken."

"Aye," nodded the old man. "'Twas at special request." And that's all he would
say on the subject.

Lupe, however, knew that Rasita had put him up to it by the way the Gypsy girl
shot absolutely wicked looks her way and it didn't take a leap of faith to
figure out that she'd gotten the information from Forrade.

As Marko and Lupe crawled into the bed in his wagon he said quietly, "You're
worried about the full moon tomorrow night."

The big Spaniard nearly jumped out of her skin. "Why should I be worried about
the moon?" she asked with a forced laugh.

"I know, senorita. I have known from the first night we made love. The
children may think them only tales to amuse and frighten but we older ones, we
know the truth," he said with a knowing nod, placing a finger to his temple.
"How that she-devil Rasita learned the truth, though, is beyond me."

"It had to have been Forrade," Lupe said softly, letting the comment confirm
his previous statement.

He nodded in understanding. "Of course. Don't worry, senorita, Ezmina will
return tomorrow and she will know what to do. She always knows what to do," he
assured her, drawing her close and wrapping his arms around her protectively.

"Are you sure...?" Lupe asked in a very small voice.

In response he crushed his lips to hers and let his strong hands caress her
trembling body.

* * * * *

Rasita stole out of camp and rushed down the path by the light of the nearly
full moon, wondering if the wizard would keep his word or not.

"An interesting story, little one," Forrade said, appearing before her, "but
totally inaccurate, factually speaking."

The Gypsy girl jumped back and crossed herself. "Must you always do that?" she
demanded. Forrade just chuckled softly. "What do you mean 'factually
inaccurate'?" she inquired once her heart had slowed somewhat.

He produced a slim-bladed dagger from his cloak and held it out to her. "This
is the only way to kill a werewolf," he said.

She took the knife, noting how careful Forrade was to avoid any contact with
the blade itself, and held it up in the moonlight to get a better look at it.
"I don't see any runes or jewels," she said suspiciously. "What's so special
about this dagger, old devil?"

"The blade is made from the purest silver, little one. If it should pierce the
heart of a werewolf it would instantly destroy them," he said, never taking
his blue eyes from the weapon.

"Werewolves aren't the only monsters who fear silver, though, are they, Herr
Forrade?" asked Marko, stepping from the shadows. He snatched the knife from
Rasita before she realized he was there and held its point toward the
nonplussed man.

"Quite true, my friend, but as painful as silver might be to other creatures
of the night its touch is only fatal to werewolves, like your lover," he
replied, his teeth glinting in the dim light. "I would find it nothing more
than an inconvenience."

"What are you talking about?" Rasita demanded, looking from one man to the
other in growing alarm and confusion. "Are you saying you're not human?"

"Oh?" Marko said in reply to Forrade's statement. He then hurled the knife at
the old man and it buried itself in his chest. "Let's test that, shall we?"

Forrade howled in agony and ripped the dagger out, leaving a trail of smoking
blood oozing from the wound. "Kill him," he said, handing the knife to Rasita.

Marko laughed his booming laugh and shook his head. "She wouldn't kill me,
nosferatu, even if she could. The silly cow is in love with me."

"Which is precisely why she will kill you, my arrogant friend," the old man
hissed.

"Tell him how wrong he is, Rasita," Marko said, drawing her close. "Tell him
how we've played this game many times in the past and how I always return to
you, my love. Tell him you could never kill me."

He suddenly looked down and saw the dagger sticking out of his chest and then
looked up at Rasita with pain in his dark eyes.

"You tell him when you meet in Hell, beloved," she spat, removing her hand
from the hilt of the blade.

Marko sank to his knees, clutching the handle of the knife and trying to draw
it out, but he weakened too quickly and instead simply slumped to the ground,
staring at the Gypsy girl with lifeless eyes.

"Excellent work, little one," nodded Forrade, eyeing the corpse with hungry
eyes. "Now, take the knife and go and do the same to his bitch-lover."

Rasita yanked the dagger free and hurried back toward the camp, doing her best
to ignore the horrible noises coming from behind her.

* * * * *

Lupe woke up just as Rasita lifted the flap and prepared to climb into the
wagon. "What do you want?" she demanded angrily, noting the absence of Marko
with considerable concern.

The Gypsy girl quickly slipped the silver-bladed knife down the back of her
skirt, securing it in the waistband, and said in a breathless rush of words,
"It's Forrade! He's killed Marko!"

Lupe grabbed her clothes and sprang past her. "Take me there," she ordered,
dressing as the woman pointed to a dark path.

"Down there," Rasita said, hoping Lupe wouldn't wait for her.

The big Spaniard didn't disappoint her and raced into the night with the Gypsy
close behind her.

But Rasita hadn't counted on Lupe being so fast and she quickly discovered she
had to run full on just to keep her in sight.

By the time she caught up to her she was cradling Marko's gruesome remains in
the little clearing. Rasita stealthily approached from behind, removing the
dagger as she did so, but suddenly gasped when she saw that Marko's throat had
been torn out and his handsome face battered beyond recognition.

Lupe looked up and saw the dagger. Before the Gypsy girl could strike she had
rolled away and sprang to her feet. "This isn't the time to continue our petty
little war, Rasita," she snarled, wiping the tears from her face with the back
of her hand. "Help me find Forrade and make him pay for... this."

"Make me pay for what, lycanthrope?" the vampire asked, stepping into the
clearing. "Feasting on a dead body?"

"Dead...? But she said that..." Lupe suddenly noticed the knife wound in
Marko's chest and turned furious eyes to the Gypsy. "You killed him!"

Rasita nodded. "And now I'm going to kill you," she said coldly, holding the
knife up and advancing towards the confused, enraged Spaniard.

"I wouldn't bet on that, you double-dealing whore." Lupe growled deep in her
throat and then lunged at her. As she'd hoped, Rasita started back, her fear
overcoming her fighting instincts momentarily, and the Spaniard punched the
side of her face so hard she was knocked completely off her feet. The silver
dagger flew from her hand and landed in the grass a few feet from her.

Rasita sat up, rubbing her face, and Forrade hissed, "The dagger, you little
fool! Get the dagger!"

"This dagger?" Lupe said, snatching the blade up before the Gypsy could even
locate it. "You want it, you've got it." She flung the knife at the startled
man and it landed with a dull thud in his neck.

"Not again!" screamed Forrade, clawing at the knife as smoking blood spurted
from his throat. He threw the knife at Rasita and it struck the ground right
in front of her. "KILL HER!!!"

The Gypsy grabbed the knife and stood up, facing the Spaniard with murder in
her eyes.

"Just tell me why you killed him?" Lupe asked, carefully moving away from both
the woman and the stricken vampire.

"Because I loved him!" she cried, lashing out with the knife and cutting a
gash in Lupe's arm when she tried to block the attack.

The Spaniard yelped as unexpected agony ripped through her entire being and
she nearly stumbled and fell from the shock of such incredible pain.

"The old devil was right, it does hurt you," Rasita grinned malevolently,
moving in for another thrust. This one caught Lupe on the side and this time
she did fall to the ground as white-hot misery shot through her body. As the
Gypsy came in for the killing blow, however, Lupe managed to kick out and
catch her squarely in the gut, sending her flying to land on her back some ten
feet away.

But she was in such incredible discomfort that she hadn't even made it to her
feet before Rasita was on her again, the knife racing toward her heart. "Give
my regards to Marko when you see him in Hell, bitch!" she snarled, putting all
her weight behind the blade. Much to her surprise, though, Lupe was able to
grab the blade with her bare hands and stop its deadly progress, but only at
the cost of the sharp edge tearing through the skin of her fingers. She howled
in agony but somehow kept the knife from her heart. Rasita, however, found
herself losing her grip on the dagger's handle thanks to all the blood coating
it from Lupe's terrible wounds.

With a final tug, Lupe managed to wrest the blood-soaked weapon from the Gypsy
girl and, flipping it around without dropping it, instead plunged it into
Rasita's chest. "An eye for an eye and a heart for a heart, bitch," she
snarled as the startled Gypsy fell to her back with the gore-covered knife
sticking out of her breast.

"You and I will settle our affairs another time, Herr Forrade," she promised
the vampire, who was kneeling near the path and doing his best to staunch the
flow of blood from his neck.

"I look forward to it, shape-shifter," he hissed.

Lupe staggered back towards the Gypsy camp, wrapping her ravaged hands in
make-shift bandages from her torn dress as she went, wondering how to break
the news of Marko's murder to the others.

"Forrade.... Help me," croaked Rasita once Lupe had gone.

"Only one thing can save you now, little one," he rasped, crawling over to
her.

"Just so long as I can exact my revenge on that Spanish whore, I don't care
what it takes, old devil," she gasped, yanking the knife from her chest and
tossing it away.

Forrade nodded and bent over the terrible wound and began drinking. "To give
me the strength required for your turning," he said in between slurps. She
barely had the power to nod as he feasted on her life's blood.

Finally, he ceased his grisly meal and, just as Rasita felt her own soul
slipping from her, placed his own wound within reach of her slack mouth.
"Drink, little one. Drink and feel the power of eternal life!"

She wearily pressed her lips to his neck and began to suck greedily at his
blood. But she stopped after a moment and weakly shook her head. "It's not
working," she whimpered.

Forrade nodded in agreement and his glance fell on the silver-bladed dagger
lying in the grass. Looking more closely, he realized that its tip was missing
and guessed that it had broken off in the Gypsy's body and was still lodged
near her heart, preventing the turning from happening. He gingerly picked up
the weapon and placed it in his cloak's inner pocket.

"There may be...another way, little one," he said scooping her into his arms
and carrying her towards his hidden camp.

To be continued...

(Soon)

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