Table of Contents
COPYRIGHT INFO
A NOTE FROM THE PUBLISHER
LEOPARD, by Jay Lake
GABRIEL-ERNEST, by Saki
SYMPATHY FOR WOLVES, by John Gregory Betancourt
THE DRONE, by Abraham Merritt
THE WERE-WOLF, by Clemence Housman
AND BOB’S YOUR UNCLE, by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro
THE MARK OF THE BEAST, by Rudyard Kipling
DUMPSTER DIVING, by Nina Kiriki Hoffman
THE WEREWOLF, by Eugene Field
THE WOLF, by Guy de Maupassant
WOLVES OF DARKNESS, by Jack Williamson
THE MAN WHO WAS CHANGED INTO A CROW, by P’u Sung-ling
HUGUES, THE WER-WOLF, by Sutherland Menzies
THE WHITE WOLF OF THE HARTZ MOUNTAINS, by Frederick Marryat
THE SHE-WOLF, by Saki
MORRAHA, by Joseph Jacobs
THE OTHER SIDE: A BRETON LEGEND, by Eric Stenbock
THE WHITE WOLF OF KOSTOPCHIN, by Sir Gilbert Campbell
THE WOLF LEADER, by Alexandre Dumas
THE HUNTER’S MOON, by Michael McCarty and Terrie Leigh Relf
WEREWOLF OF THE SAHARA, by G. G. Pendarves
EVIL FORCES, by Gary Lovisi
COPYRIGHT INFO
The Werewolf Megapack is copyright © 2013 by Wildside Press LLC. All rights reserved.
* * * *
“Leopard,” by Jay Lake, originally appeared in Jim Baen’s Universe, Vol. 4, No. 1. Reprinted by permission of the author.
“Gabriel-Ernest,” by Saki (H. H. Munro), is reprinted from Reginald in Russia (1910).
“Sympathy for Wolves,” by John Gregory Betancourt, originally appeared in Horrors! 365 Scary Stories. Copyright © 1998 by John Gregory Betancourt. Reprinted by permission of the author.
“The Drone,” by Abraham Merritt, originally appeared in Fantasy Magazine, September 1934.
“The Were-Wolf,” by Clemence Housman, originally appeared in 1896.
“And Bob’s Your Uncle,” by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro, originally appeared in Full Moon City. Copyright © 2010 by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro. Reprinted by permission of the author.
“The Mark of the Beast,” by Rudyard Kipling, is reprinted from Life’s Handicap (1915).
“Dumpster Diving,” by Nina Kiriki Hoffman, originally appeared in Werewolves. Copyright © 1995 by Nina Kiriki Hoffman. Reprinted by permission of the author.
“The Werewolf,” by Eugene Field, is reprinted from Second Book of Tales (1911).
“The Wolf,” by Guy de Maupassant, is reprinted from Original Short Stories, vol. 4 (1890).
“Wolves of Darkness,” by Jack Williamson, originally appeared in Strange Tales of Mystery and Terror, January 1932.
“The Man Who Was Changed Into a Crow,” by P’u Sung-ling, originally appeared in Strange Stories from a Chinese Studio (circa 1740). This edition has been edited and updated from a public domain translation by John Betancourt especially for this edition. Copyright © 2013 by John Gregory Betancourt
“Hugues, the Wer-Wolf,” by Sutherland Menzies, was originally published in 1838.
“The White Wolf of the Hartz Mountains,” by Frederick Marryat, is an taken from The Phantom Ship (1839).
“The She-Wolf,” by Saki (H. H. Munro), is taken from Beasts and Super-Beasts (1914).
“Morraha,” by Joseph Jacobs, is taken from More Celtic Fairy Tales (1895).
“The Other Side: A Breton Legend,” by Eric Stenbock, originally appeared in 1893.
“The White Wolf of Kostopchin,” by Sir Gilbert Campbell, originally appeared in Wild and Weird Tales of Imagination and Mystery (1889).
“The Wolf Leader,” by Alexandre Dumas, originally appeared in this translation in 1904.
“The Hunter’s Moon,” by Michael McCarty and Terrie Leigh Relf, is copyright © 2013 by Michael McCarty and Terrie Leigh Relf. Published by permission of the authors.
“Werewolf of the Sahara,” by G. G. Pendarves, originally appeared in Weird Tales in August-September, 1936.
“Evil Forces,” by Gary Lovisi, is copyright © 2013 by Gary Lovisi. Published by permission of the author.
A NOTE FROM THE PUBLISHER
Over the last year, our “Megapack” series of ebook anthologies has proved to be one of our most popular endeavors. (Maybe it helps that we sometimes offer them as premiums to our mailing list!) One question we keep getting asked is, “Who’s the editor?”
The Megapacks (except where specifically credited) are a group effort. Everyone at Wildside works on them. This includes John Betancourt, Carla Coupe, Steve Coupe, Bonner Menking, Colin Azariah-Kribbs, A.E. Warren, and many of Wildside’s authors…who often suggest stories to include (and not just their own!).
A NOTE FOR KINDLE READERS
The Kindle versions of our Megapacks employ active tables of contents for easy navigation…please look for one before writing reviews on Amazon that complain about the lack! (They are sometimes at the ends of ebooks, depending on your reader.)
RECOMMEND A FAVORITE STORY?
Do you know a great classic science fiction story, or have a favorite author whom you believe is perfect for the Megapack series? We’d love your suggestions! You can post them on our message board at http://movies.ning.com/forum (there is an area for Wildside Press comments).
Note: we only consider stories that have already been professionally published. This is not a market for new works.
TYPOS
Unfortunately, as hard as we try, a few typos do slip through. We update our ebooks periodically, so make sure you have the current version (or download a fresh copy if it’s been sitting in your ebook reader for months.) It may have already been updated.
If you spot a new typo, please let us know. We’ll fix it for everyone. You can email the publisher at wildsidepress@yahoo.com or use the message boards above.
—John Betancourt
Publisher, Wildside Press LLC
www.wildsidepress.com
THE MEGAPACK SERIES
The Adventure Megapack
The Christmas Megapack
The Second Christmas Megapack
The Cowboy Megapack
The Craig Kennedy Scientific Detective Megapack
The Cthulhu Mythos Megapack
The Ghost Story Megapack
The Horror Megapack
The Macabre Megapack
The Martian Megapack
The Military Megapack
The Mummy Megapack
The Mystery Megapack
The Science Fiction Megapack
The Second Science Fiction Megapack
The Third Science Fiction Megapack
The Fourth Science Fiction Megapack
The Fifth Science Fiction Megapack
The Sixth Science Fiction Megapack
The Penny Parker Megapack
The Pinocchio Megapack
The Pulp Fiction Megapack
The Rover Boys Megapack
The Steampunk Megapack
The Tom Corbett, Space Cadet Megapack
The Tom Swift Megapack
The Vampire Megapack
The Victorian Mystery Megapack
The Werewolf Megapack
The Western Megapack
The Wizard of Oz Megapack
AUTHOR MEGAPACKS
The B.M. Bower Megapack
The Wilkie Collins Megapack
The Randall Garrett Megapack
The Murray Leinster Megapack
The Second Murray Leinster Megapack
The Andre Norton Megapack
The Rafael Sabatini Megapack
LEOPARD, by Jay Lake
Under cover of darkness, Mattie crawled among the grape arbors lining the path across fr
om his parents’ cabin. The sharp, sour smell of fallen fruit mixed with rich loam and the salt of his sweat. The grid of Motherlights glowed dimly overhead to define the night. His little sister Juna followed close behind, as she always did.
Somewhere beyond the edge of the village, Leopard stalked the darkness.
They edged their way through the vines to seek a glimpse of the villain at his work. Mattie used his knife to cut where needful. Looking for Leopard was forbidden, as were most things in Mother’s worlds, but the two of them were driven by curiosity mixed with loyalty and terror.
By day, Mattie and Juna loved their brother Benno. At night when Benno put on his mask and dropped to all fours, they shared in the fear of their neighbors. Brother and sister had wondered together if Leopard’s love was more dangerous than Leopard’s hate.
“Inspector will be here in a few weeks,” Juna stage-whispered to Mattie. A beautiful child of seven, with brown eyes and browner hair, she was just learning the power of rumor and hidden fact. She annoyed his twelve-year-old sense of importance.
“Shhh…” Mattie eased a large cluster of grape leaves aside with the flat of his knife. “Look…” His voiceless whisper dropped to almost nothing. “I think he’s after one of the sheep.” The animals huddled in their small night paddock on the far side of the grapes, kept in place by ovine pheromone markers and low-voltage wires.
Leopard bound out of a stand of thick bamboo off to their right and leapt the electric fence to bring down one of the sheep with a swift economy that terrified Mattie. The startled squeal of the prey raised a panicked bleating among the other sheep. Mattie set his shoulders, strengthening against the shiver of fear that his sister might notice.
Juna was too distracted, however. “That’s Agnes!” she shrieked as Leopard turned to savage a favorite lamb. She began to cry, not the quiet sniffling of a well-raised child, but a shrieking, bawling wail which put Mattie in mind of swift beatings and angry visitations from Priest.
“Shut up!” He slapped at Juna with his free hand. “Leopard will kill us both.” Behind them, Leopard’s growl rose above the bleating.
“Will not,” screeched Juna, louder, fear dropping away in favor of defiance. She jumped to her feet. “Benno would never hurt me!”
“When’s he’s Leopard, he’s not Benno!” Mattie yelled back, forgetting himself as he stood to pull Juna down again. He barely had time to turn into the rush of the clawed, hot weight of the big cat before it took him.
“Benno!” Juna screamed. At least she forgot her lamb, thought Mattie, drowning in the salty copper taste and the thunder in his ears.
* * * *
“Leopard,” intoned Priest. “Hear me, Leopard.”
Mattie’s ears felt thick, waxy. He could feel the heat of a fire nearby. The air stank of smoke, meat and machine oil.
He was in the Lodge with Priest.
Why? The question barely framed itself.
“Leopard. You have slain your brother.”
Brother? Mattie was confused. Leopard had killed him…
He thought.
Mattie tried to flex his arms. Unfamiliar muscles rippled beneath a heavy skin.
“Leopard.” Priest’s voice rumbled on. “Take up your work. You have made it your own.”
Mattie tried to talk but succeeded only producing in a frustrated cough. New smells spoke to his nose; olfactory languages unlearned bringing understanding unearned. Priest was old, his Lodge much older.
“You have asserted your responsibilities. Take them up.”
Was Priest trying to throw him out? What had happened to him? Mattie pulled himself to his feet.
All four of them. Clawed, furred feet.
Mattie opened aching eyes. Priest leaned on a staff hung with skulls, feathers and electronics. His Lodge spread around them both, cluttered metal walls glowing and rippling in the light of the fire burning in the central pit. The heads of dead beasts leered over ancient volumes bound with their hides. Equipment racks winked red, green and amber through their draped rags and beads.
Priest was wrapped in ragged, loosely stitched pelts and fabrics, embodying the chaos and complexity of his Lodge. He stared down at Mattie with a mixture of sorrow and frustration crinkling the tattoos of his face. Priest’s metal eyes appeared to weep, but Leopard smelled only machine oil, not salty tears.
“Inspector will be here soon,” Priest said. “We must have our Leopard. You have won the mask both by kin right and trial of combat.”
Mattie tried to talk, but again coughed instead. His voice trailed off into a growl.
“Remove the mask if you wish to speak to me.” Kindness tinged Priest’s voice.
Mattie began to protest that he had no fingers, that the mask was all around him, when it fell apart at his thought. He stood naked and warm in the firelight, clutching a worn leopard pelt in his hands. Its head hung from one end. A strap dangling from the jaw where the pelt could be pulled around Mattie’s face to hold it on. His own jaw ached, the memory of fangs disturbing his now-human teeth. The symphony of odors was gone, replaced only by a generalized reek of rot and age.
“Benno?” Mattie’s voice rasped.
“Dead.” Priest’s face drifted into an echo of a smile. The tattoos had a language of their own, if only Mattie had the wit to read it. “By your hand.”
“Juna?”
“Spared by both of you. Frightened beyond the borders of her wits but recovering.”
Mattie shook his head, gathering the leopard mask to his chest like an infant.
“Mattie…” Priest looked to shed another oiled tear. “You must do this thing. But you cannot become the mask. You are still Mattie, brother of Juna. Sister-son of mine.”
Mattie shook his head again. The mask—the skin—felt warm in his hands. “My brother killed me. I remember Leopard’s claws at my chest.” His nails began to slide out from their beds, sharpening and narrowing. “Mattie is dead. Leopard lives.”
Leopard bounded into the night, briefly pursued by the square of firelight from Priest’s door.
* * * *
Mother did not allow much standing water in Her worlds, preferring her people to use driplines for drinking and farming. No one ever washed in water. Still, there were usually a few bamboo-lined pools which sheltered fish and fat, fearless frogs. Waterhunting was forbidden to men and animals alike. Those few who rediscovered it in every generation felt the sting of Mother’s punishment most severely.
Mattie sat undisturbed in shade of the bamboo canebrake at the edge of one such pool, regarding his reflection in the calm water.
One fang had broken on the door of his family’s cabin. When he heard Juna screaming within, Leopard had fled the scene of his childhood. Her fear shrieked in his nostrils far louder than in his ears. Back in his own form Mattie hadn’t the heart since to look himself in his child’s face. Leopard came and sat within his head more and more often.
You are not me, said Leopard from the water below.
You should be Benno, Mattie answered himself. I never wanted to kill. Him or anyone.
I stalk the edges, haunt the night, give the people the gift of Fear. Fear, like Death, is one of Mother’s greatest servants. Disturbed by faint ripples, the reflection appeared to sigh. She does not grant such servants bodies of their own lest they contest Her power.
So stalk. Wind stirred. Mattie’s ears, now furred and tufted, brought him the sound of fan ducts high above beyond the daylit grid of Motherlights. Strange, he thought, that such magnificent ears should play servant to Leopard’s nose.
Fear serves best when transient, said Leopard. It should be unfamiliar. Have no face.
Fear had the face of Benno. Until I killed him.
Leopard was silent for a while, staring up from the water into the trees. Finally he shifted from within the pool, coughed, said, You killed only Benno. Fear still lives, granting boundaries to Mother’s people. Every day you do not return home those boundaries
loosen further.
Then Leopard was gone. Mattie’s reflection was broken by a fat frog, which peeped at him before diving to swim into the shadows at the edge of the pool.
* * * *
Mattie walked on two feet into his parents’ cabin. Mumma and Papa were out, tilling he supposed. Juna sat wrapped in a blanket and staring at her teacher in the wall. Mattie felt naked without his Leopard nose to wrap him in the maps of scent, but he kept the warm mask firmly under one arm.
“Juna.” His voice was hoarse from disuse.
She turned, blanket dropping from one dirty shoulder. “Mattie!” Juna jumped up from the floor and ran to hug him. He swept her in his arms, realizing as he did that he was taller and stronger than he had been the night Benno died.
Had it only been a few weeks?
“Mattie…” she said, smiling. “Are you back? Are you come to live among us?”
“Yes,” Mattie smiled. “It is over. I shall kill Leopard as he killed Benno and be your brother once again.”
“Agnes.” Juna’s brown eyes welled over a pout. “He killed Agnes, too.”
“Leopard will die for your sheep as well,” laughed Mattie. Inside his mind, Leopard growled.
* * * *
The only thing Mother hated more than waterhunting was fire. Heat could be used as a tool or for cooking, but men were sometimes slain outright for keeping open flames. There were too many dangers. Only Priest had leave to have a fire, and it stayed inside his Lodge. So Mattie went to the Lodge.
Priest was out, doubtless doddering on some errand. The animal hide blocking his Lodge door was a stronger barrier to most than the stoutest latch, but Mattie had lost all fear since the night Leopard killed him. He pushed through into the Lodge. His fingernails left furrows in the hide.
It was as before, crowded, close, warm. The fire pit seemed cold at first. Squatting next to it, Mattie could see the coals cooking in the ashes below. He set the mask down next to him. Leopard’s skin twitched as it left his fingers. He searched for something to blow on the fire. Every child knew airflow brought oxygen that fed flame. A large bellows lay close to hand. Mattie grabbed it, began working the coals.
“Yes, Inspector, he is taking to it. At his own pace.”
Priest’s voice came through the door. Mattie pushed the bellows back where he had found them and scuttled into the hanging junk along the wall behind. The door skin lifted and Priest limped through, followed by a tall, unnaturally pale man in tight-fitting clothes.