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Nikki and the Lone Wolf / Mardie and the City Surgeon: Nikki and the Lone Wolf / Mardie and the City Surgeon

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2018
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Don’t be stupid. Knock.

She knocked.

Nothing.

She didn’t know whether to be relieved or not.

Another howl.

What next? Ring the police?

What would she say? Excuse me but there’s a dog on the beach. What sort of wimpy statement was that?

She needed to see what was happening.

Cautiously.

There was a narrow track from the house to the beach but she’d only been on it a couple of times. It was a private track, practically overgrown. Where did the track start?

She searched the edge of the overgrown garden with the torch but she couldn’t find it.

So was she going to bush-bash her way down to the cove?

This was nuts. Dangerous nuts.

Only it wasn’t dangerous. There was only about fifty yards of bush-land between the house and the beach. The bush wasn’t so thick she couldn’t push through.

And that howl was doing things to her insides. It sounded like she imagined the Hound of the Baskervilles would sound, howling ghostly anguish over the moors. Or over her beach.

The animal must be stuck in a trap or something.

If it was stuck, what could she do?

Go to the beach, figure what’s wrong and then ring for help.

You can do this. You’re a big girl. A country girl. Or not.

She wanted, suddenly and desperately, to be back home in Sydney. In her lovely life she’d walked away from.

Face that tomorrow, she told herself harshly. For tonight … go fix a howl.

He was striding up the track, moving swiftly. With a slab of meat in his hand he could approach the dog slowly, letting it smell the meat before it smelled him. He’d intended to have the steak for breakfast—he needed a decent meal before heading to sea again—but he could cope with eggs.

Don’t get sucked in.

‘I’m not getting sucked in,’ he told himself. ‘I’m hauling the thing out of the water, feeding it and handing it over to Henrietta. End of story.’

It was dark.

The bush was really thick. Her torch wasn’t strong enough.

She was out of her mind.

The howls stopped.

Why?

The silence made it worse. Where had the howls been coming from? Where were the howls now?

Anything could be in here. Bunyips. Neanderthals. The odd rapist.

She was losing her mind, and she was going home now! She turned, pushed forward, and a branch slapped her forehead with a swish of leaves. She almost screamed. She was absurdly pleased that she didn’t.

But still no howl.

Where was it?

She was going back to the house. There was no way she was going one inch further.

Where was the thing behind the howl?

She shoved her way around the next bush, pushing herself against the thick foliage. Suddenly the foliage gave way and she almost tumbled out onto the track.

Hands grabbed her shoulders—and held.

She screamed and jerked back.

She raised her poker and she hit.

CHAPTER TWO

SHE’D killed him.

He went down like felled timber, crumpling from the knees, pitching sideways onto the leaf-littered track.

She had just enough courage not to run; to shine the torch at what she’d hit.

She’d hit someone—not something. She didn’t believe in werewolves. Therefore …

Sanity returned with terrifying speed. She had it figured almost before she got the torchlight on his face, and what she saw confirmed it.

She whimpered. There seemed no other option.

This was ghastly on so many levels her head felt it might explode.

She’d knocked out her landlord.

The howling started up again just through the trees, and she jumped higher than the first time she’d heard it.
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