The Werewolf of Bamberg by Oliver Pötzsch Read Free Book Online Page A

behind the bushes, a wild pig, or a single wolf, certainly nothing to frighten a grown person. Wolves were dangerous only in packs; when they were alone they didn’t dare—
    Adelheid stopped short. Suddenly her own steps sounded strangely loud to her. The sound was delayed, almost like an echo. She stopped again and noticed that the sound stopped as well.
    Tap . . . tap . . . tap . . .
    Terrified, Adelheid put her hand to her mouth, realizing what that meant.
    Tap . . . tap . . . tap . . . Someone was running alongside her.
    Suddenly, the sounds stopped, and right after that she heard branches snapping nearby.
    “Whoever you are out there . . . come forward!” Adelheid demanded in a choked voice. “If this is supposed to be a joke, it’s not funny. This—”
    At that moment something came crashing through the undergrowth.
    The apothecary’s wife was frozen with fear as the creature knocked her down and cast himself on top of her. She smelled animal sweat and the stench of wet fur, and she began to scream. Her shouts died on her lips, however, as something large and heavy panted and rolled over her.
    Oh God! Help me! This cannot be . . . This is impossible . . . This . . .
    A merciful loss of consciousness took her. A few moments later the howling of the wolves resumed as a dark shadow pulled its lifeless prey into the forest.
    Tap . . . tap . . . tap . . .
    A gasping sound, a last death rattle in her throat . . . and then all that remained of the apothecary’s wife was the gentle fragrance of fraxinella.

2
    B AMBERG , NIGHT , O CTOBER 26, 1668 AD
    J UST AS MAGDALENA WAS BEGINNING to think they’d never find her uncle’s home, Jakob suddenly stopped and pointed triumphantly at a two-story house standing right at the northern city moat.
    “Ha! Now look there,” he boasted. “My brother’s house. A little run-down compared to the last time, but still an impressive place. Bartl must have kissed a lot of asses on the city council to get permission to live in town.”
    Magdalena frowned as she looked at the lopsided half-timber house whose paint had been peeling for a long time. A small shed and a stable were attached. The building, shrouded in the fog, was built so close to the moat it was in danger of slipping into the foul-smelling morass at any moment. Nevertheless, it was a stately home. The hangman’s daughter couldn’t help but think of her father’s house in Schongau, in the stinking Tanners’ Quarter out of town and not nearly as large as this one. She had a vague feeling that her father’s barely concealed dislike for his brother had something to do with jealousy.
    A thin ray of flickering light came through the closed shutters on the first floor. Jakob pounded on the massive wooden door, and shortly afterward there was a muffled but still familiar voice that made Magdalena’s heart pound.
    “Uncle Bartholomäus, is it you?” the voice inquired cautiously. “I didn’t expect you back so soon from the torture chamber. Why—”
    “For God’s sake, Georg, it’s your own father. So open up, or do you want to keep us all standing out here in the cold?”
    The Schongau hangman rattled the doorknob, and a muted voice came from inside. Then the bolt was pushed aside and the door open.
    “Georg! Thank God!”
    Magdalena shouted for joy when she caught sight of her younger brother, whom she hadn’t seen for almost two years. Georg had grown, and the pimples had given way to a dark fuzz on his face. Though only fifteen years old, he seemed much stronger and heavier, almost a smaller version of his father with his hooked nose, broad chest, and tousled black hair. A smile came over his face, then he shook his head and laughed.
    “It looks like my prayers have been answered, after all. Uncle Bartholomäus said just this morning that perhaps you wouldn’t come to his wedding. But I was sure you wouldn’t let us down. My God, how happy I am to see you!” He embraced first his