She and I had been out partying the night before on some bootlegged hooch. She didn’t know about the letter I’d gotten the day before. The one addressed "Joe Baker, Occult Expert." It was written by a man claiming to be a werewolf, and he dared me to come to his house tonight and spend the night there. He said he was having a little party and he wanted me to try and guess who he was. Probably some fruit- cake, but I’d better check it out anyway, never can tell when they’re for real. I’d rather stay home with Eva, but I’ve got a job to do.

I called Ted Baxter, my partner, to let him know what was going on. He told me that he’d also gotten a letter from this werewolf joker. We both agreed we’d better go.

That afternoon was pretty full, after I left Eva’s place I went over to the office, I had a few reports to fill out. I decided I’d better pick up some silver bullets before I went tonight, just as a safety pre- caution. I spent the rest of the afternoon tying up loose ends from a couple of other cases. Before I realized what the time was, Ted was knocking on my office door. He was a short man, with short blonde hair and a really determined look that was always on his face. He was standing there in his long overcoat and his soft cap and he was complaining that we’d be late if I didn’t hurry up.

"Calm down, will ya," I said, "we'll make it in plenty of time, it’s just out of town a little." "Yeah, I know that," he snapped, "but I still want to get there a little early so I can see the place in the daylight first."

"Well, let me get my stuff together and then we’ll leave," I said calmly. I threw on my heavy leather jacket and plopped my fedora on my head. Then I opened my desk drawer and pulled my .45 revolver out and double checked to see if it was loaded. I shoved it into my holster and we headed for the door.
It wasn’t until we got to the house that I realized that I’d forgotten to get any silver bullets that afternoon, but by then it was too late to worry about them. As we pulled up into the long, dark driveway, I got my first look at the house. It was an old two-story place probably with an attic and basement to boot. There was one room on the front that was round and it led up to a turreted roof.
The entire place was incredibly eldritch looking and the fact that it was starting to rain seemed completely appropriate. There weren’t any other cars here so I figured we were probably the first ones to arrive. As I turned the car off, the rain began to really pour and the old estate took on a really fiendishly sinister look about it.

I decided that we’d better check out the house. A small family graveyard with a crypt in it was visible out back. Ted saw the graveyard also.

"Maybe we should check out the graveyard before anyone else gets here," Baxter said.

"You’re nuts!" I replied. "It’s pouring out there, go ahead and get wet if you want."

"Fine, I will," he said and he opened the car door and disappeared into the rain. I figured that I’d better head up to the house and check it out. As I approached the house a feeling of anxiety settled upon me. It was a feeling that I’ve felt before but I’ve always been able to shake it, except now. Upon reaching the top of the porch steps I noticed a set of automobile lights coming down the driveway. As the car pulled to a stop, Ted came around the corner.

"Looks like we’ve got company," Ted remarked. While I stood and watched the gentleman exit his car, two more vehicles came rumbling down the lane. A gentleman in a raincoat and bowler cap approached me and introduced himself.

"‘ello, mate. I’m Inspector Torn Vance, Scotland Yard." Vance was a thin man with a handlebar mustache. "Aren’t you Joe Baker, that occult man from Bostontown?" Tom asked.

"I suggest we all move into the house, where it’s not raining," I announced.

"Excellent idea," said the tall, dark man that had just arrived on the porch. "Ve’ll all do vell to get in out of the veather." His heavy, solemn Rumanian accent broke the silence. For some unknown reason my instincts immediately warned me about him, but I kept my mouth shut.

Within the hour all the players were present. This werewolf really knew how to throw a party -- individuals like Vance of Scotland Yard: Don Barnes, a known werewolf hunter from Romania: Bertha Metrass, a local palm reader and self-pro- claimed psychic. Other little-knowns included Fred Jones, a rich playboy from Miami, Florida; Ed Stoner, a reporter from the New York Times; Shaggy Duran, a fellow occult investigator, and his dog, Scooby. The rest were no-name losers: David Mair, a sewer worker from Dublin, Ireland; and an ex-con by the name of Jeff Beil.

As the ten of us stood in the parlor of this once grand house, we all considered the fact that one present was our host, and he would try to kill each one of us, tonight! We all decided that we should examine the house a little first. I was standing in the main entrance parlor. There was a window on the left wall with a small wooden table beneath it. A doorway was in the wall directly across the room. Beside the doorway was a fireplace with a davenport and two chairs facing it. I walked through the doorway and into what appeared to be a billiard room. On the right hand side of the room stood a battered but usable billiard table. Nine doors, three to a wall, existed here also. Each door proclaimed, in bright red letters, who was to reside in each. I-found mine was intended for dual occupancy, Ted and me.

We agreed that we would all put our equipment, if any, away and meet in the parlor in ten minutes. That was our first mistake!

When the group reconvened in the parlor I realized that we had had our first casualty, Mr. Beil was now missing. No one had seen him since his roommate Duran had left for the parlor. The search began. We checked all the rooms and found nothing. Two of the doors in he billiard room had not been marked. I searched both of these and found one to be a closet and the other to be a staircase up. During the search Inspector Vance pulled me off to the side to talk with me. He said, "Baker, I don’ know anything about this werewolf character, but I do know that somebody in ‘ere is a catburgler."

"Who is ...," I was interrupted by Barnes walking over and informing us that Mr. Beil could not be found and that we should meet in the parlor to discuss our next action. "I’ll speak with ya later, mate." The Inspector whispered as we walked to- ward the parlor. I wish he would have told me then.

Once in the parlor I was informed that several people had discovered that they were missing personal items from their room. This confirmed what the Inspector had told me, the burglar would have been able to get a few items during the search, if he was good. Obviously, he was good. Don Barnes suggested that we all go to our rooms and lock our doors, and possibly get some sleep. I tended to agree, it was still relatively early and the wolf wouldn’t do anything drastic yet, he had all night to savor this. As an extra plus, the idea kept the less experienced individuals out of the others’ way. I figured this was the real reason Bames had suggested it, so we all retired to our own rooms.

I must have accidentally fallen asleep, because the next thing I remember was Bertha Metrass screaming her head off out in the billiard room. Ted, who had also just awoke, looked at me and grabbed his gun as I ran out the door. Out in the billiard room I was greeted by a hideous sight. There stood Bertha, weeping in the corner near the closet door; and there on the floor where it had landed as the closet door was opened, lay the appalling, decapitated remains of Mr. Beil. The body was dreadfully mutilated and obviously the work of an infernally loathsome animal, the werewolf!

I looked around to see who was missing and realized that Inspector Vance, Frederick Jones, David Mair, and Don Barnes were not present. I told the others to start looking for them while I went to the Inspector’s room. Once there I met with yet another grisly sight, the Inspector lay sprawled out on the bed and he was hideously white. I rushed to him to check for a pulse, but what I found on his neck was no pulse, but rather blood. Not the mucky, splattered blood induced from the tearing action familiar to the acts of werewolves, but instead, the putrid, dripping holes accustomed to vampires!

"Oh, shit," proclaimed Ted, standing behind me! I flinched because I didn’t know he was there nor had I heard him come in. "Dear God in Heaven," he continued, "you mean to tell me there’s a damn vampire running around here, too! Great, just great!" Though not as vocal as Ted, I too was a little worried. Two creatures under one roof was too much for anyone to handle. I wondered what other little surprises our host, whomever he/she was, had in mind.

As I considered the possibilities, I heard Mr. Stoner call for me out in the billiard room. I went to see what he wanted. When I entered the billiard room, I smelled a stagnant, repulsive odor. As I approached Stoner he informed me that Jones was not in his room.

"Have you looked inside, maybe he’s a very heavy sleeper, or worse?" I asked.

"Yes, I opened his door and searched his room, but didn’t find him," the young man said with concern. "Where is everyone, Mr. Baker?"

I couldn’t answer him because I didn’t know. One thing was for sure though, this wolf either wasn’t within our dwindling group or he was very tough, I didn’t much like the options.

Sha ggy Duran called to the group from the parlor. We all rushed in, a little hesitant, for the smell grew stronger and a foul cloud of smoke filled the air. When I entered the parlor, I passed Shaggy leaving with a look of shear horror and complete nausea. I didn’t bother asking. The smell was unbearable now and through the thick fog of heavy black smoke I saw the cause. A faceless, palpitating body burned in the fireplace. As I moved over to the heat- bloated form, I grabbed the sheet covering the chair and threw it over the burning corps to stifle the flames. Once done, I ran outside to relieve my stomach of its contents.

After some of the smell had subsided, I reentered the house. Everyone was standing around the billiard room; the body in the parlor was unrecognizable. It could have been Mair, Bames or Jones, though I didn’t think that it was Jones. He was too small for that body. One thing did catch my eye. The corpse had a small, mostly burnt, wooden stick impaled in its chest. That told the whole story. Just then the door to Jones’ room opened and out stepped Mr. Jones. Everyone stood quietly in complete astonishment. Jones started to say something when he noticed the body of Beil. Mr. Jones be- came violently ill for a time and lay down on his bed.

"The murderer must be Jones," exclaimed Bertha. "He’s the only one that doesn’t have an explanation, and he wasn’t here in his room!"

"I most certainly was, I’ve been here all evening," countered Frederick.

"You lie!" yelled Ed Stoner. "I personally checked your room myself, you weren’t here!" "Gentlemen, and Lady," I interrupted. "The solution is obvious. Mr. Jones could not have entered or left via this door. His illness at the sight of Mr. Beil’s remains was genuine."

"But Joe," Ted broke in, "Jones wasn’t in his room when we checked, you saw that yourself!" "Correct, but I didn’t say that Mr. Jones was in his room, I merely stated that he couldn’t have used this door." Ted opened his mouth to say something more but I continued on -- I was on a roll and didn’t want to stop. "Since the only other way out of this room is via the window, I suggest that Mr. Jones used that window." I looked out of the window and didn’t see any tracks in the mud. I brought this fact to everyone’s attention, then continued.

"Since Mr. Jones didn’t go down once outside, he must have went up."

"You’ll note that there is only a small drainpipe outside," stated Jones. "Just how was I supposed to get up there?"

"Oh, that wouldn’t be very difficult for an expert catburgler, now would it Mr. Jones?" I asked knowingly. Jones looked around nervously. I could tell he felt cornered and was going to do something stupid.

I was right. Jones’ hand flashed inside his jacket. I knew what he was going for so I went for my gun. I looked up to see a small silver derringer pointed at me and I heard a shot ring out. As Jones hit the floor, Shaggy Duran came into view, standing there with a smoking .38 in his hand. Jones had forgotten about him. Bertha passed out.

As we all stood there contemplating what to do next, a bloodcurdling howl erupted from above us, on the second level. Bill stayed with Bertha as Ed, Ted, and I headed up the stairs.

The hallway at the top of the stairs was dark and eerie. Spider webs hung like great tapestries from the walls and ceiling. Four doors were visible, Ted went the first door on the right and Ed followed him. I heard a noise at the end of hallway and proceeded in that direction.

As I looked up I saw him standing in the window at the hall’s end. He was silhouetted by the light of the full moon that had appeared after the rain, and he looked grisly. As I gripped my gun, unable to move, this appalling creature spoke.

"My revenge is almost complete, Joe Baker, I need only you and the swine you call Ted Baxter and my job will be done." I was stunned by this. I questioned him of the need for revenge.

"You fool, you genuinely do not remember me. Do you remember the wolf you killed for sport in Scotland a few years back? The one you swore that you had hit but you couldn’t find later? You thought that you had killed me but you didn’t. However, you do remember the werewolf that attacked you in your room that night? The one that attacked only in retaliation for his younger brother? The one you brutally killed? You remember my brother don’t you? You destroyed my life and now I seek to destroy yours. I lost someone dear by your bloody hands, so shall you this night by my hands. In this way will I get my revenge on you Joe Baker."

I raised my gun and fired. The wolf recoiled from the impact and fell out of the window. I rushed to the window but when I arrived there was no wolf to be found. Ted appeared, alerted by the shot. As he began questioning me, the intent of the wolf’s threat slapped me in the face and one word came immediately to mind; EVA.

I had the car started before Ted managed to get in. As I rushed to Eva’s place I explained to Ted the reason for my fear. We arrived at the house in record time. I ran to the door and burst into the room. There sat Eva, completely startled, sewing. I ordered her away from the window and into the center of the room, where I grabbed her and held her close. Ted, still standing in the doorway, reveled in the fact that we had beaten the werewolf at his own game. I started to warn him about standing in the door when the ravenous jaws of the wolf clamped down on Baxter’s neck. His head landed in the room with a thud as his body disappeared into the night in the maul of the damned beast. Eva screamed and I slammed the door closed and locked it, picking up Ted’s gun in the process. I cursed for letting myself fall for this whole plan, hook, line and sinker. I tried to calm Eva as I studied the windows. Ready for any attack.

I knew it was coming, but I stood there for what seemed an eternity and still nothing happened. Could I really have done the things that the wolf claimed I had? It didn’t matter now. All that did matter was that a werewolf was stalking its prey, somewhere, out there in the night.

I finally grew tired of the wait, and I got careless.

I had backed myself up against the door when a pair of hideous claws crashed through the door and raked my chest open. Bone protruded from the wound as the wolf was upon me. I had to stay conscious long enough to blow it away, for Eva’s sake. We wrestled on the floor, my blood lying everywhere. Ted’s gun had dropped from my hands and lay on the floor just out of my reach, I heard a shot and the great beast was off me. I scanned the room and saw that Eva had grabbed my gun and that the wolf, though stunned, was moving for her. I only had one chance to save her. If I screwed up, she’d be dead. I grabbed Ted’s gun and brought it to bear on the creature. I prayed, I prayed that Baxter had remembered what I had forgotten, I pulled the trigger.

I realized my prayers had been answered as I lay there looking at the lifeless remains of David Mair.
 

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