David Wellington - Overwinter: A Werewolf Tale

also by David Wellington

Monster Island

Monster Nation

Monster Planet

13 Bullets

99 Coffins

Vampire Zero

23 Hours

Frostbite

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2010 by David Wellington

All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by Three Rivers Press, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

www.crownpublishing.com

Three Rivers Press and the Tugboat design are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

eISBN: 978-0-307-46080-6

v3.1

For Adelaide

Tuckers Last Stand was the rowdiest bar in the town of Menden, Alaska, but when the naked woman staggered in through the front door it was still enough to make Greg Thomass jaw drop. He was the town doctor, and had seen some pretty crazy things in his time, but still.

From her post behind the bar, Margie Hurlwhite let out a low whistle and put down the glass shed been filling. The four men at the bar turned to look all at once and none of them said a word. Three of them were old fishermen with hands so cut up and weathered they could barely hold a knife anymore. Thomas, the fourth, stood up so fast he knocked over his stool. The noise was loud enough to drown out the radio, but nobody bothered to look away from the naked visitor.

Thomas wiped his hands on his pants. Well, hi there, he said, when it was clear no one else was going to welcome the newcomer.

She looked him right in the eye and smiled. Didnt say a word. She was beautiful, he thought, far lovelier a creature than any woman in Menden had a right to be, with long red hair that fell across her eyes and shaded her face but totally failed to cover her breasts, not to mention the rest of her. She looked like she might be twenty, or maybe younger. Just a girl. He wiped his hands on his hips again, because suddenly they were sweaty. It had been a long time since his wife had died and hed never bothered much with women since then, but this one except maybe it wasnt exactly lust he was feeling in his heart at that moment. There was something about this girl. Maybe it was that she wasnt making any effort to cover herself up. That she wasnt shivering, even with snowflakes flecking her hair like glitter. It was just below freezing outside, and her feet were wet, as if shed been walking in the snow, but she looked as though if you put a hand on her arm you might just get burned.

You got a good enough look, Doc, to make a diagnosis? Margie asked, rushing around the end of the bar to drag the girl inside, away from the door. She stopped before she could touch the girls skin, though, and mostly just waved her toward the back and the pair of red leather booths there.

Margies tone had been thick with sarcasm but Thomas shook his head and answered anyway. Hypothermias my guess. We got to get her warm. He stripped off his parka and wrapped it around the girl, which got him another smile, this one warm with gratitude. Margie, make some coffee, will ya?

Got a pot brewing right now, Margie told him. She busied herself behind the bar while the three fishermen turned on their stools to face Thomas and the girl. They were blinking and rubbing their faces like they couldnt quite believe it.

Whats the matter, miss? Thomas asked. You in an accident or something? Whered you come from?

She tilted her head so the red hair fell away from her eyes and looked up into his face. No accident, msieur. I have come from the water, just now, on a boat.

You have people around here, someone I can call?

The smile faded a bit. Not so close, but people, yes. I have come for my man, who I have not seen for a very long time.

Whats that accent? Margie asked, bringing the coffee. She set it down on the table in front of the girl with shaking hands. Sounds like Quebec, maybe. You a Quebecois, dear?

Je suis franaise, but I have been abroad. Just now I am coming over from Russia.

Well, Thomas thought, that made some sense, anyway. Menden was on the west coast of Alaska, near about as close as you could get to Russia without going for a swim. Boats went back and forth between the two landmasses all the time. Of course, most of the people on those boats dressed for the climate.

Whats your name? Margie asked, and Thomas felt like a cad for forgetting to ask that, himself.

I am Lucie, thank you.

Thomas waved Margie back. The bartender was leaning so close she was blocking the girls air. Find some blankets, a tarp, anything. And turn the heat up in here. Shes probably so cold her brains froze. We have to

I am altogether fine, sir, Lucie said, and she reached out to grab Thomass hand. He flinched, expecting her touch to scorch him. Her skin was warm, it was true, though no more than normal body temperature. Her lips werent blue or even chapped, and her pupils were normal, he noted. But can you, please, tell me one thing? That clock, there. Is it accurate?

He looked up at the old cuckoo clock above the bar mirror, mounted between a pair of antique snowshoes. It said it was a quarter to nine. I suppose, he said, though it did seem like that must be wrong.

No, honey, thats bar time, Margie supplied. About fifteen minutes ahead. Thats so when closing time comes I can get these sorry fools moving toward the door faster. Why do you need to know? Are you meeting your man soon?

Lucie shook her head prettily. Not yet. I merely wish to know, because the moon is due up at eight and the half tonight.

Thomas frowned. There really was something about this girl. Something off. You know when moonrise is off the top of your head?

I should be very surprised to find her up without me, Lucie replied. So it is just about now half past the eight? Yes, I can feel it is so. She shrugged her shoulders and the parka fell away. Merci. You have all been so very kind.

Thomas grabbed for the parka and realized, too late, that she hadnt pushed it off herself. It had collapsed around her. Orthrough her. She was becoming intangible, her flesh transparent so he could see the red leather of the banquette right through her white skin. Holy mother, he said. Like aa ghost.

No, msieur. Not like a ghost at all.

There was a flash of silver light, a shimmer like moonlight flickering on choppy water. Then in his arms was an explosion of fur and spittle and many huge teeth. Blood spattered the dusty floor of the bar and Margie screamed, but Thomas barely heard her. He never heard anything again.

Cheyenne Clark was, for the first time in her life, almost happy.

It wasnt something she liked to admit to herself. She had plenty of reasons to be miserable, depressed, even pissed off. But those reasons felt very far away.

There had been a time, before, when things had gotten bad. Very, very bad, and she hadnt come out of it innocent. Sheor rather her wolfhad done things she didnt like to contemplate.