"Even a man who's pure in heart
And says his prayers by night,
Can become a werewolf when the wolfbane grows,
And the moon is full and bright."

The Wolf Man with Lon Chaney Jr.

It was the night of the full moon. He stood quietly in the dark, waiting for them to come.

He grinned into the shadows that covered him, remembering what he'd left on the ground the night before. Torn and lifeless bodies, covered in blood and looking like rag dolls thrown away by a child. He'd killed before, but under a full moon it felt so right.

The scuff of a footstep in the distance brought his head up, all senses immediately alert. Could that be them, the ones he was waiting for? They were his prey and they knew it, but one of his victims the night before had tried to escape. She'd begun to struggle when his claws ripped open her throat, ending all struggle forever.

More footsteps came, now clearly heading for the area of shadows. They plodded ahead to the rendezvous spot to meet their fate. He was their fate, and the eye of the full moon would soon help him accomplish his mission. He licked his lips, letting those who came get just a little closer.

When he finally showed himself he was all but tasting their blood. Their eyes told him they wanted to run, but it was too late, much too late…

Laine Randall looked around as she stepped off the train, but there wasn't much to see. Elgin, New Mexico, was no more than a whistle stop, dusty, humid, and overcast.

"Laine, the conductor would like to have your autograph," Nissa said in a low voice. "I told him I would ask."

Laine glanced at the petite woman who had been with her so long. Nissa Anders was a quiet person, rarely speaking in a voice louder than a shy murmur. But Nissa always knew that it was good press to be gracious to people. Laine made it a policy never to argue Nissa's decisions in the matter, and because of that Laine had a reputation for being one of the nice people in a business that had more swelled egos than a bullfrog convention.

"I'd be glad to give the man an autograph," Laine said in a pleasant voice, calling up the smile that went with that particular role. "Why don't you bring him over?"

Nissa flashed a smile, and then gestured to a short, uniformed man standing about ten feet away with Robert Samson, Laine's very large male secretary. The conductor brightened immediately and began to hurry over, already having dismissed Nissa, who had gotten him what he wanted. People always did that to Nissa, and it also always bothered Laine.

"I really appreciate this, Miss Randall," the conductor began babbling at once, his grin the sort that ardent fans usually wore. "You're my favorite actress, and 'Death Beat' is my favorite TV series. You're not only a great detective, you also make a great cop. I hope your series goes on forever."

"Thank you," Laine said with her smile firmly fixed in place as she took the paper and pen the man held toward her. "Who should I make this out to?"

Victor Bogosian spelled his name carefully for her, then took the completed autograph and reluctantly started to walk away. Nissa went to the luggage now standing on the platform, which meant Laine was able to go back to studying her surroundings.

A land where almost all of the life juices have evaporated, Laine thought with a faint, humorless smile as she surveyed the arid atmosphere of the place. The movie role she'd been offered would be filmed in Elgin and the nearby exotic resort, and if everything went according to plan she would be a superstar.

"Oh, sorry, honey," a male voice said an instant after Laine was jostled by a large, hard body. A big hand had come quickly to her arm to keep her from falling, but the gesture was just as distracted as the words. "Instead of sight-seeing, I should have been watching where I was going."

"No problem, junior," Laine answered in a lazy drawl, and that got the man's attention. His head snapped around in the closest thing to an actual double-take Laine had ever seen, and his light blue eyes widened just a little. He had tawny blond hair and a square, ruggedly handsome face, but his expression was downright comical.

"Junior?" he asked, brows raised high as he looked down at her. "I strike you as somebody who ought to be called 'junior?'"

"At least as much as I qualify for the name 'honey,'" Laine countered easily, unimpressed by the big man's attractiveness.

"Now that point I would have to argue," the big blonde said with a sudden grin, his light eyes moving quickly over her. "You are definitely a 'honey.' If we meet again we'll have to discuss it over dinner."

He used two fingers to throw her a casual salute before moving off, and made no effort to look back as he disappeared into the wooden depot building. Laine watched him leave, her head to one side, wondering. He obviously didn't know who she was and didn't expect them to meet again, but had made sure to arrange a dinner date in case they did. Distracted interest was what he'd shown, as though he weren't about to let a physical attraction interfere with more important concerns.

"This is not the place for that look," Bob Samson scolded as he appeared on her right, studying her expression. "That's the 'Hey, there's a mystery going on here I'll have to investigate' look, and it belongs no place other than on the set of 'Death Beat.' Didn't your producers make that clear through all their yelling?"

"They were just upset because they thought I might have gotten hurt," Laine answered with a grin and a dismissive wave. On three separate occasions she had helped out the Hollywood police department with real crimes. None of it had gotten into the media, but her producers had found out about the incidents and hadn't been pleased. The last case had been the worst, considering how close she had come to having her name added to the list of victims…

"Laine, you may consider the situation amusing, but your producers don't," Bob responded with a sigh. For such a big man he had more patience than people would expect, and his dark eyes were very serious. "And you may not have been listening to them, but I was. If you get involved in any more real-life trouble, they'll replace you in the series. They weren't joking, so don't fool yourself into believing they were."

Laine nodded with a smile as she patted his arm, hoping he would stop lecturing her if she didn't try arguing again. Bob was a member of her official family just as Nissa was, and he never stopped trying to protect her, especially from herself. His dark-haired good looks were enough to get him a screen test any time he cared to take one, but Bob didn't want to be an actor. He was studying to be a director, hut refused to leave Laine's employ to work at it full time. She needed somebody to take care of her, he always maintained.

"If you don't stop trying to push me around, I'll tell Ann you made a pass at me," Laine threatened when his expression didn't lighten much. "You know she tends to believe what I say so you'd better behave."

"I'm not the one who needs to worry about behaving," he came back with a snort of amusement that at least got rid of the tension in him. "Ann knows I love her, so you go right ahead and tell her anything you like. And while you're considering the best thing to tell her, why don't we go looking for our ride?"

"Did Nissa find someone to take the bags?" Laine asked, turning to see for herself. Just as she'd half expected, the small woman stood near the luggage all alone, without a porter in sight.

"I'll check inside to see if there's anyone here to do it," Bob said with another sigh. He also disliked the way people dismissed Nissa's presence, but every now and then he found himself doing it. He shook his head and started toward the depot building, and Laine went to stand with Nissa.

"Why didn't you tell Bob you were looking at the man and not thinking about a mystery?" the small woman offered shyly, her smile as teasing as it ever got. "Maybe then he would have stopped lecturing you."

"Bob knows better than to believe I would be interested in a man that handsome," Laine returned with her own smile. Nissa always knew what was going on, and as usual was trying to help her. "I've had more than my fill of so-called gorgeous hunks who are dying to be my escorts, but are only interested in what I can do for their careers."

"He looked interested enough to me," Nissa ventured, her smile now dreamy. "I wish a man would look at me like that. Just once and I'd be happy, but of course it won't ever happen."

For the millionth time Laine wanted to argue that, but it would have been a waste of breath. In order for Nissa to attract men she would have to see herself as attractive. Someone had done a damned good job destroying Nissa's self-confidence.

"Okay, ladies, we can now go looking for our transportation," Bob announced as he came back. Behind him was an old man with a long handcart. "John will give our luggage a ride to the parking area, where the cars from the resort usually wait. If there isn't one there waiting for us, I'll have a few words to say to the resort's reservations manager."

"If nothing else, that will teach them a lesson for next time," Laine said with a smile, then watched as Bob helped the old man load their luggage on the cart.

As they waited, Laine thought about the movie role. She had four days to make up her mind and get back to the producers about her decision. That should be enough time … unless, of course, something really interesting happened in Elgin, New Mexico.

The man who went by the name Greg Williams moved into the depot building and looked around in a casual way, showing nothing of the faint anxiety he felt or the following relief that washed over him when he spotted the man he'd been shadowing. His quarry was slender and balding and not very tall. Greg knew the man's broken English had given him some trouble as he'd traveled cross-country from New York to New Mexico, but he seemed to have gotten to his destination anyway.

Greg moved confidently toward the arrow indicating resort shuttles, walking only a couple of feet behind the man he was following. He paused to pay the ten-dollar fare, then relinquished his luggage before getting on the van. Greg hoped his reservations had been made, then dismissed the point with an inner shrug. If wires had gotten crossed, he'd take care of it the way he always did.

Once on the shuttle he took a seat a couple of rows behind his quarry, then relaxed as the driver waited to see if anyone else needed a ride to the resort. Greg knew of at least one other person who was going there, but she couldn't be called a girl.

"Hell, that was a "woman," he said to himself, a grin on his face as he remembered. He'd been so busy watching his quarry he'd bumped into her, and for a moment she'd actually been able to distract him. No doubt about it, she was a woman who could give him a run for his money.

"That means I've got to get to know her," he told himself firmly. The assignment he was on had top priority, of course, but if his luck held he would need to spend some time acting like an ordinary vacationer. He'd use the opportunity to make sure she took him up on his dinner invitation. He wanted to know more about her, and where she might be found when his assignment was over. It had been a long time since he'd last felt that way about a woman.

He glanced out the window on the far side of the van and saw his black-haired honey near a limo, but she wasn't alone. A small, brown-haired woman and a big man were with her. Greg frowned as he looked at the man, but he knew for a fact that the woman hadn't been wearing a ring. Her male companion might mean trouble in getting that dinner date, but Greg wasn't about to simply give up. He might try and fail, but that didn't mean he wouldn't give it his best shot.

Success. Greg felt himself smile at that, knowing it was what made him so good at his job. He didn't know what would eventually happen with the thin bald man, but so far things had been going well. One of his female co-workers had learned of their quarry's destination, which had led Greg to New Mexico.

Greg had been surprised to learn that his quarry was staying at the Isle of Dreams resort, because the man didn't have a lot of money. That was one of the things Greg had been told by his superiors. His people felt the man was going to pretend to vacation at the resort, but it had occurred to Greg that he might be going there to work. If so, Greg would have been better off trying to get a job there also, but it was too late for that. He'd have to play vacationer even if his quarry didn't, and still try to keep him in sight.

The limo carrying his mystery woman and her friends had already left, and Greg looked up to see four more people get on the van. They were two couples who seemed to be traveling together. The driver got in after them, closed the van's door, and took off.

Greg leaned his head back to enjoy the ride, but thoughts of a bright oval face surrounded by black hair interrupted his rest. And she had green eyes, he reminded himself with a private grin. How could he possibly pass on a woman with green eyes?