She raised her head to catch scent and detected a trace of greenery to the west. Limping, skirting debris, keeping close to buildings when she could, the beast trotted westward past occasional humans. Others lay dead like the man who'd tried to kill her. At times the earth trembled beneath her feet, upsetting her balance, but she went on as soon as the tremors stopped.

A wailing, as of many human voices, came faintly from the south, along with the stench of smoke. Water flooded some of the streets but she was afraid to risk stopping for a drink--there were too many humans about. She knew some of them saw her because they shouted and pointed but so far no one had threatened her.

Sensing their danger, she avoided the tangles of wires in the streets that wriggled while emitting blue sparks. Always she followed the scent of trees, difficult as it was to pick out of the myriad of other odors--some so strong and vile they turned her stomach. Her front leg gradually stopped throbbing and the small wound in her shoulder no longer bled, enabling her to quicken her pace to a lope.

At last she saw the trees. As she raced toward them, she noticed, to her dismay, a thin line of humans straggling in the same direction. With no other place to go, she plunged between flowering bushes, searching for a substantial stand of trees. When she found a small grove, she paused beside a pond and lapped water, then chose a tree and climbed it. Stretching out on a broad branch, she rested while keeping alert for any sign of danger. So far, her senses told her no human had penetrated into the woods but she'd take no chances. Her hunger could wait until she was certain it was safe to hunt.

Her eyes half-closed and a rumbling began deep in her furred chest, a sound of satisfaction. After all these years, she was finally free.

She meant to stay free.

As Wolf stumbled toward the Palace, he saw a man plunge from the fifth floor of the hotel to the street below. Moments later Wolf gasped as a great black beast leaped from the same broken window and landed on all fours next to the dead man.

About the size of a large mountain lion, the beast didn't resemble any animal he'd ever seen. Though it seemed more feline than anything else, the taloned, fanged beast was a fearsome mixture. He knew immediately what it was, who it was.

"Cecelia!" he cried.

The beast paid him no heed, limping rapidly westward. Heading for Golden Gate Park? Wolf wondered. The woods of the Presidio? He paused a moment to drop to one knee beside the dead man and grimaced at the deep and bloody gouges in Dr. Swanson's side. Those wounds didn't come from the five-story fall, they were claw marks.

Wolf knew he must stop Cecelia before the beast she'd become killed others. He trailed her along debris-strewn sidewalks, passing street car tracks torn up and bent as though by a malevolent giant. Electric wires, tangled and sputtering, lay among the piles of bricks and mortar. Smoke, blowing from the south, stung his nostrils.

A faint cry for help stopped him. Glancing around, he noticed a woman crouched in the recessed doorway of a dry goods store. Other earthquake survivors passed her by without looking at her. He hesitated, then climbed toward her over a mound of crumbled stone that had fallen from the building's facade. She stared up at him with frightened eyes.

"My baby's coming," she gasped, clutching at his arm. "Please help me get to a hospital."

Wolf scanned the surroundings, hoping to see some kind of conveyance. A dead horse lay in the street, still hitched to the overturned wagon, otherwise there was nothing.

"Ohh!" the woman wailed, letting go of Wolf and sinking to the cement floor of the entryway. "It's coming now!"

He gaped at her, then tried the door of the building. Locked. Not knowing what else to do, he knelt beside her. She lay on her back, knees bent and legs apart, alternately gasping and moaning.

Another woman might know what to do but there wasn't a woman in sight. Gritting his teeth, he gingerly lifted her long skirt. Blood stained her underclothes. Though he'd never watched the birth of a baby he'd seen animals born and it occurred to him he'd have to remove her drawers to make room for the emerging infant.

He explained this to her as he fumbled with the ties to the drawers and clumsily pulled the underpants down and off, laying them on the cement between her legs. Her face red with exertion as she strained, she didn't object, didn't say anything. Sweat beaded her forehead.

Yellowish fluid gushed from the birth canal opening, followed by more blood. The woman grunted, obviously pushing down, exactly as animals did. The top of the baby's head appeared and Wolf held his breath until the head emerged completely. He reached down to prevent the baby's face from scraping against the cement. The shoulders appeared, then suddenly the entire body slipped free and he was left holding a wailing newborn.

Realizing there'd be an afterbirth, he laid the child on her mother's abdomen. "It's a little girl," he said. "She's fine. Don't move yet."

When the afterbirth slid out, Wolf took his pocketknife and cut a strip from the woman's drawers to tie the umbilical cord before severing it. He removed his jacket and wrapped the little girl in it before showing the child to her mother. He remembered Druse as a newborn and he knew this baby was much tinier.

The woman smiled and touched the baby's cheek. "She looks like her father."

Balancing the infant in one arm, he helped the woman to her feet with the other.

"I hope you can walk, ma'am," he said.

"I'll try," she quavered. "How can I ever thank you?" As they stepped from the entry, the ground undulated under their feet and more of the facade broke away from the building to crash around them. Wolf hustled mother and child into the middle of the street.

"Where do you live?" he asked.

She shook her head, biting her lip. "My boarding house is in ruins. I'm afraid I'm the only who got out. It was because my pains started. A month early. I was frightened so I came downstairs to knock on the landlady's door. Before I could, everything started shaking so I ran outside. I tried to get to the hospital but..." Her words trailed off. "Your husband?"

"He's a sailor--his ship's not due in till next month." "Any other family?"

"I have an aunt and uncle in Oakland."

Wolf considered whether he ought to look for a hospital and decided against it. For all he knew any hospital might be as badly damaged as the buildings around them. And if not damaged, extremely busy. He had no idea if Oakland had suffered as much from the quake as San Francisco but at least she had relatives there. "I'll get you to the ferry," he told her, turning back in the direction he'd come.

By the time they reached the Ferry Building other refugees from the quake were thronging on the docks, eager to leave the city by ferry. Wolf managed to find an older couple who agreed to watch over the mother and child and help them to their Oakland destination.

He started off again for Golden Gate Park, eyeing with dismay the smoke rising ominously from different sections of the city. San Francisco might have a magnificent Fire Department but he recalled the flooded streets he'd passed and shook his head. The quake must have ruptured the water lines. Firefighters, no matter how skillful and dedicated, couldn't combat flames without water.

His delay couldn't have been avoided--how could he have left that poor woman alone?--but he worried over what the beast might have done and what might have happened to her since he'd last seen her. He'd heard rumors that armed soldiers from Fort Mason had been ordered into action and that meant men trained to shoot first and ask questions later. Though their guns weren't loaded with silver bullets, if enough soldiers shot the beast at once, she'd be doomed. The other grim possibility was that the beast, having had a taste of blood, was now hunting for prey--human prey.

The beast, half-dozing on the tree branch, came alert when a new scent mingled with the smell of rabbits, mice and birds. Prey! Luck was with her, she was downwind from it. Moving cautiously and quietly, she gathered herself for an attack. Soon she heard the prey approaching, drawn, she knew, by the water in the pond.

When the prey passed under the branch she sprang, landed on its back and severed its spinal cord with one crunch of her powerful jaws. Blood, hot and salt-sweet filled her mouth.

As she feasted on its flesh, the part of her that knew about rooms, doors and guns told her what she'd killed was a horse. She hadn't yet eaten her fill when another scent made the fur ruff along her back. She raised her head and growled, knowing a human was near and coming closer. Humans weren't prey but they were dangerous. They carried guns. Guns could kill her. Humans were her enemies.

The beast rose from her crouch and snarled, showing her fangs, torn between defending her kill and slipping between the trees to circle back and stalk the approaching human. Deciding on stealth, she reluctantly abandoned the carcass of the horse for the dubious safety of the sparse woods.

As soon as the human saw the dead horse his shriek made her ears ache. She was in a good position to spring at him and finish him off but, scenting other humans, the beast abandoned her quarry and hid deeper within the small grove, fearfully aware that if the humans spotted her and surrounded the grove, she'd be trapped.

She dare not remain here; she must search for a denser woods. She preferred a jungle but the part of her that knew about human things warned her there were no jungles near by. Cautiously she loped away from the smell of humans to the far edge of the trees. There she paused and sniffed the air, smelling smoke. Mingled with the smoke was a faint scent of pines to the north. The beast eyed the open space she must cross with dismay. Who knew how far away the forest was? Other stands of trees, no larger than the one she was in, beckoned. The open space between her and the nearest was dotted with bushes, offering some cover. Giving up on the pine scent for the moment, she plunged from the first grove and ran toward the next.

Once among the trees, she discovered a place where greenery grew over piled rocks. Between the rocks and hidden by large flowering bushes, a skunk had fashioned a den, now abandoned. Wrinkling her nose against the odor, the beast dug into the earth between the rocks until the hole was large enough for her to hide in.

Leaving her bolt hole, she searched for water but didn't find any. Climbing a tree, she eased onto a limb and waited. Her hunger hadn't been satisfied and now she was thirsty as well. But the faint odor of humans disturbed her. Though not close, they were in the area. She'd have to be very, very careful.

Unhappy, hungry and thirsty, she pulled her lips back to show her teeth. Humans were the enemy. She must kill them before they killed her.

Wolf stood beside the mutilated horse. The beast's kill, he was sure. As soon as he'd reached the Park, now thronged with people who didn't know where else to go, he'd heard about the wild animal running loose.

"Killed a horse and ate the whole critter--nothing but bones left," one old man told him.

"One of them catamints," another offered.

"I heard 'twas a wolf," a third insisted and then pointed the way toward the woods where the dead horse lay. All the activity would have driven off the beast, Wolf felt. As far as he could determine, no one had actually seen her. But with the fires raging in the city more and more people would pour into the Park. Sooner or later she'd be spotted. And then--?

Wolf took a deep breath. He must find her first. What he'd do then he didn't know. She was dangerous and unpredictable. He recalled the long-ago night at the St. Francis when she'd not only seen a red pentacle on his palm but admitted she'd seen one on another man's hand as well. Thought she hadn't known what it meant, he had. The circle within the star marked victims of a shifter.

She'd told him the other man was her doctor. Swanson. Yet, disregarding the warning, she'd finally married him. If she hadn't killed the poor bastard outright, fear of the beast had driven Swanson to jump to his death. Wolf Volek was the next scheduled victim.

How the hell am I supposed to save her, he asked himself, without her killing me first?

Chapter 14.

As evening darkened the sky, the beast watched from her tree branch as a man edged cautiously into the small grove. By the way he acted she decided he was searching for something or someone. For her? He hadn't glanced up yet so she fought her urge to growl, aware any sound could give her away.

Even though he didn't carry a gun he was a human and therefore an enemy. Men had driven her from her prey before her hunger was slaked. If this one came close enough she'd leap from the branch and kill him. Men weren't her legitimate prey but the lust for blood thrummed within her, demanding to be satisfied. Blood was blood and meat was meat. She flexed her claws, anticipating how she'd sink them into his flesh as her jaws closed on his unprotected neck.

A flicker of movement at the far edge of the grove caught her attention. Its scent wasn't human but animal. Though she couldn't put a name to the smell, when the animal came closer she recognized it as a dog. The dog trotted along, nose close to the ground, stopping when its path intersected the man's.

He stopped, too, and spoke to the dog. Its tail wagged briefly before it resumed tracking. Tracking her. The beast gathered herself, waiting.

The dog halted again near the tree and circled, sniffing the ground, obviously searching for her tracks. Finding none, the animal raised its head, looked at her branch and barked. The beast leaped. The force of her jump pinned the dog beneath her and she sank her teeth into its throat, savoring the taste of blood for an instant before she released the dead animal to stare at the man.

He didn't move. When he spoke to her, his words hissed into her ears like snakes. She snarled and took a step toward him. Men's shouts made her hold, listening. Coming this way? She couldn't take the chance. Whirling, she ran into the trees toward the rocky refuge she'd ferreted out earlier.

When he was certain she was gone, Wolf dragged the dog's body into a nearby clump of hibiscus bushes and hid it among the foliage.

"Thank you, brother, for giving your life for mine," he murmured before turning away.

Finding the beast Cecelia had become was his responsibility. He didn't want others discovering the dead dog and forming a hunting party--which they might very well do if they connected the dog's death with the horse's.

He had no illusions--if he came within her reach she'd kill him as quickly as she had the dog. All he had for protection was the Finnish changer's chant Liisi had taught him and the silver cat's head buckle that had belonged to Cecelia's mother. He had no idea if either would be effective. Taking a deep breath, he clutched the silver buckle in his hand and began the chant as he followed the beast's spoor into the gathering darkness, well aware that danger haunted every step he took.

"Dark spirit," he intoned, "Do not ride the night..." Unexpectedly, the memory of a long ago nightmare sprang into his head, threatening his concentration on the words of the chant. He was sixteen, asleep in his bed at Wolf House and yet he wasn't there at all: He ran along a street, the paving cracked and rubble-strewn, toward a forest of greenery. Among the trees and bushes death waited. The metallic taste of fear fouled his mouth, terror clouded his mind, but he ran on.

Ahead, the dark spirit hidden in the greenery screamed a challenge, a caterwauling cry more chilling than any cougar's. He longed to stop, to turn back. He could not. All he could do was race toward his doom....

He'd thought it a nightmare then. But instead, as Liisi would have told him, the dream had been a shaman's vision of the future.

Wolf swallowed, mastering his terror and forced himself to go on. When he stepped into a tiny clearing by a rocky hillside, he resumed the chant. "Dark spirit, remain in Tuonela's midnight depths where you belong. Evil one, seek not the light of this world. You of the dark, remain in darkness...."

He froze as a caterwaul rose from the rocks ahead of him, rising and falling in an eerie pitch that made the hair bristle on his nape. He'd tracked Cecelia's dark spirit to its lair.

For long and terrible moments he forgot every Finnish word he'd ever learned. Gradually his mind cleared but his voice was hoarse and halting as he took up the chant again. He thrust the cat's head before him like a talisman as he edged forward.

The beast shook her head but the man's words continued to buzz in her ears like troublesome gnats. Though she didn't understand the words they clouded her senses, making her uneasy. And angry. She fought their effect.

He was her enemy. Death to enemies. Kill first, before the enemy strikes.

He came closer to the tall bushes that hid her rocky den. And still closer. His hated scent made her ears flatten. A low growl rumbled in her throat. Through the leaves she saw something gleam in his hand. A gun? No, worse. She might survive bullets but she sensed her death lay within that gleam.

The beast burst from her den, smashed through the bushes and, talons searching, fangs thirsting for blood, pounced on the enemy.

Wolf, knocked onto his back by the beast's attack, screamed as her claws raked down his face and left shoulder. Her breath was hot and rank in his nostrils and he caught a blurred glimpse of ferocious green eyes as he brought up his uninjured arm and thrust the silver buckle into her open mouth. Her fangs bit down on his hand, crushing it. Faint with pain, he was only able to moan before darkness overtook him.

He floated in the darkness for eons before a voice, faint and dream-like, called to him. "Wolf, you must hear me. Wolf, Wolf, hear me."

A woman's voice, sounding strangely blurred. If he made the effort would he remember whose? It was far easier to keep on drifting.

Another woman's voice spoke. A stranger's. He could make no sense of the words.

Was he in Tuonela, the Finnish realm of the dead, with Tuoni's daughter calling to him? Death's daughter calling him to hell?

Disconnected shards of memory drifted in his mind. In Finland dead men walked the earth as wolves. On the first new moon in March would he return to life as the animal he was named for?

"Wolf, don't die!"

The words jolted through him, piercing the darkness. He recognized the voice. Not Death's daughter. Cecelia. He struggled to open his eyes.

His right eye stared into near darkness. Something was wrong with the left. He tried to lift his left hand to discover what but cold fingers closed around his.

"Wolf! Oh, thank God!" Cecelia's words were slurred, barely understandable. The dim blur of her face hovered above him. "Stay still. You're--" Her voice faltered. "You're hurt."

He grew conscious that he lay on his back on the ground and that another person besides Cecelia knelt beside him. "Gei and I will help you," Cecelia said.

Who was Gei? And what was wrong with Cecelia's voice? "Blood, he stop." The woman's words had the same sing-song lilt as Chung's. A Chinese woman?

Did she mean he'd been bleeding? He felt as weak and helpless as a newly hatched bird fallen from the nest. What had happened? He couldn't remember. He tried to sit up and pain laced through him, making him groan.

"No move," Gei ordered. "You drink." She held a cup to his lips.

He struggled to swallow the bitter liquid. As it went down he suddenly recalled where he was. San Francisco. Earthquake. Had he been hurt in the quake? He tried to bring back more but his thoughts were fuzzy.

"Home," he mumbled. "Go home to Volek House."

"Yes," Cecelia said and he heard tears in her voice. "I'll take you home."

Gei stared at the dark-haired woman called Cecelia. While she was hiding her cart, she'd heard weeping and, venturing to look, discovered a naked woman kneeling beside an injured man. Even though numbed by her own circumstances, the woman's lack of clothes had surprised Gei. After covering the dazed Cecelia with her fur-trimmed satin cloak, Gei, who had nowhere else to go, remained with her.

Now she wondered where the man's home was and how Cecelia expected to get him there with the city burning all around them. Even if it were possible, it was doubtful the man called Wolf would live long enough to go home.

The left side of his face, shoulder and arm were a bloody ruin and his right hand was badly mangled. He possessed a dragon's heart to have survived his deadly injuries this long but he'd soon succumb. She was glad she'd stolen enough opium to ease his pain for the short while he'd live.

"It's all my fault," Cecelia mumbled.

"No talk," Gei advised. She was surprised the woman could, considering the open, bleeding sores on her lips and tongue. From the difficulty Cecelia had speaking, Gei thought her throat must be blistered as well.

Cecelia paid no attention. "Volek House is in the foothills of the mountains," she said. "The Sierras. I must get him home."

Gei blinked. The mountains called the Sierras were far from San Francisco, she knew. Far from the tongs and the revenge that was sure to catch up with her if she remained anywhere near the city. Unlikely as it was that the man would live through any journey, much less a long one, it was clear the gods who'd sent the earthquake were offering her a further chance for escape.

"Me help," she told Cecelia. "You wait. Me go, come back."

Hidden in the bushes no more than forty paces away was the cart she'd brought with her when she'd bolted from Wu Pei's glittering mansion deep within the Chinese quarter, the mansion that had been her prison.