VERONICA SINGER
Created with Vellum
Veronica Singer
Text copyright © 2018 Veronica Singer All Rights Reserved
Fantastic cover art by Carl https://extendedimagery.com
Tothosewhowalkontwofeet,buthuntonfour.
Contents
Acknowledgments
1. Meeting Mr. Magician
2. Damn Humans are Everywhere
3. Back in the Pentagram Pub
4. It's Still Not A Date
5. Touring Tokyo's Mystic Underworld
6. No Escaping the Pack
7. The Roppongi Race
8. The Desperate Wolf
9. Fight Magic With Magic
10. Audience With The Kitsune Queen
11. Magicians Don’t Always Stick Together
12. The Alpha Attacks
13. Back To The Pack
14. Battle With Raymond
15. The Great Escape
16. Hiding Out
17. On The Run
18. Petting the Wolf
19. Exorcising Inner Demons
20. Appointment with Raymond
21. Epilogue
About the Author
Acknowledgments Fantastic Cover Design by:
Carl of Extended Imagery
Meeting Mr. Magician
The tall skinny heels on my boots clicked against the pavement as I ventured down the sidewalk. I'd been in Tokyo only two days and, boy, was this place disorienting. Tall buildings reached up on either side of the street, and their entire surface area seemed to be devoted to huge neon signs. The flashing lights and assorted colors were almost blinding, polluting the general comfort of darkness. Tiny cars zipped past me on a one-way street, the gentle draft as they passed providing a welcome breeze in the otherwise warm, stagnant air. The city seemed to have its own static noise: vehicles and music and people. So many people.
I watched the Japanese men; some of them were formally dressed in suits, some in casual wear that almost reminded me of home. The Japanese always seemed to find ways to do things a little edgier than we did in the US. Almost every one of the men I passed let his gaze trickle down my body, some more shamelessly than others; I wasn't shaped like the average Japanese woman, and they were taking notice. "Humble" isn't exactly a word I think anyone would use to describe me, and I readily admitted my comfort and pride in my skin. Or I guess, technically, skins.
Tonight, dressed in a curve-hugging, cleavage-baring little black dress and leather thigh-high boots, I was feeling pretty good. Though it was night, I wore a pair of mirrored aviator sunglasses.
My eyes have a tendency to change to predator mode when I get emotional, and I didn't trust my wild temper to control itself around those who didn't understand. Like the humans, for example. The glasses were a safe choice, considering I was wandering through a veritable sea of them. Japanesenightlife isnuts,I thought, excited to start a new life here amidst the excitement. Plus, it was easier to stay hidden in crowds and big cities: more distracting smells and more places to hide.
A little hungry and desperate for a drink, I looked around the lively city, waiting for a place to catch my interest. One building, a little more run-down than its neighbors and surprisingly devoid of neon, had a small black door with a simple sign. Though my Japanese wasn't great, I did recognize the symbol for "bar" so I figured it was worth a shot. I'd always loved gritty, hole-in-the-wall bars so this seemed like a good place to start before I immersed myself in the brighter, more colorful Japanese nightlife.
The black door opened to a flight of stairs and I made way carefully down them. The stairs led to a nice-enough space with a long bar top and a few booths built into the wall.
Even before my high-heeled boots hit the floor, I knew I had made a mistake. The new country, the new culture, had confused me. There were so many new smells everywhere that I had confused this for a normal bar. Now it was too late. The heavy door above the stairs swung shut behind me, muting the chorus of street sounds.
I was used to being stared at when I entered a bar, but this was on a different level. I took a deep breath, flooding my nose with new, alien scents. Among these, I smelled aggression, and I felt my internal hackles begin to rise, readying for a challenge.
I was pretty sure I wasn't the only one who thought I was in the wrong place. A man approached me, a suspicious look in his narrow eyes. He was speaking Japanese, but obviously didn't expect me to understand him because he held up a sign printed in English which read, "Wereservetherighttorefuseservicetonon-Japanese."
"Oh, really?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow and turning up the charm. "Can't a girl get a drink here?"
"No. You go now," he said resolutely, with a heavy accent. He reached out and began pushing my arm.
Little did he know, I wasn't some feeble girl he could push around. I hadn't backed down from a challenge in years. I had been feisty even before the change, and I wasn't about to be manhandled now. At five foot seven, I was average for the US, but tall by Asian standards. I was pretty sure I could take him. The bitch was certain we could.
"I should warn you, you don't want to see me get bitchy." I emphasized the word as best I could, hoping he would understand. When his face remained hardened and scolding, I slid the sunglasses down my nose with a manicured finger and allowed the bitch to look out from within me. I could feel my eyes changing as the irises widened, covering the whites, and shifted from human blue to sky blue. The shifting energy built up within me, as she was desperate to escape.
"Eatnow?" I heard her ask, her feral voice desperate. I felt guilty as I figuratively stuffed her back in her cage. Soon enough, I told her. It didn't soothe her much.
The change in my eyes intrigued him, and he finally noticed that pushing me wasn't going to do him any good. He put his hands up in front of his chest, palms facing out, as he backed away in a gesture of surrender. Smartman, I thought smugly.
"Gomenasai," he said, apologizing. "You okay. You…" He trailed off with a suspicious sniff, seeming to search for the word, "Cousin? Yes, cousin. Welcome."
The man swept his arm towards the bar, welcoming me in. The tension in the bar lowered as the other patrons turned back to their drinks. Now that I had been accepted, they didn't seem to see me as
a threat. A few watched me out of the corners of their eyes, but I was used to that. Now that my secret was out, I put the sunglasses in my purse.
A tall, lean Caucasian guy leaned against a sleek black wooden podium. I don't know how I hadn't noticed him before, considering he was at least half a foot taller than every other man in the room and had floppy blond hair that hung almost over his eyes. His essence hit me then, a whiff of something different than myself. He was some kind of supernatural, that much I picked up.
"Prey," whispered my inner self. There was a certain beauty, a certain simplicity, to her animal mindset. She was quick to label anyone or anything we met as "pack," "predator," or "prey." Her instincts were comforting in a way, but occasionally confusing to my human brain.
His demeanor shifted as she whispered to me, though, and it became instantly apparent what he was. It was the way he stood, the way he moved—like a man in a gusty wind shifting as the wind did. Damn magicians, I thought. They were so sensitive to the dynamic energies that flowed around us that they felt things no one else could. To his credit, he concealed it well, which took an incredible amount of control. He reacted slightly, with only tiny motions, to the ebb and flow of universal magic. I’d known a magician once upon a time who’d wound up in an insane asylum. Completely unable to control his reactions to the things only he could see, hear, and feel, he had started to lose it due to a sort of sensory overload. His days were spent being battered by the winds of nowhere, talking to things no one else could hear. All the staff avoided him. I only visited on family days.
The magic boy behind the podium kept his eyes on me, though, unlike the other men, he wasn't leering. His amused smile pissed me off; I wasn't quite sure what had been amusing about my exchange with the first man. While the bitch scratched and clawed at her
confines, begging to be released, I glared him down, daring him to look away.
He didn't, though. Instead, he said, "Welcome to the Pentagram Pub. That was impressive."
"How so?" I asked.
"Well, I've never seen Hashimoto-san back down like that, for one."
"And?" I'll admit, hearing that stroked my ego a bit.
"And two, you're only the second female werewolf I've ever seen. And the only blue-eyed one I've ever heard of. So you're kind of impressive by default."
"Yeah," I snapped. "I get that a lot."
"Hey, no need to get snippy." He put his hands up like Hashimotosan had a few moments ago. "Just saying, it's cool. I know how rare you guys are. You're practically like a unicorn."
I knew he was trying to be funny, but the bitch was agitated and didn't much care for being compared to a prey animal. I rolled my eyes at the magician and walked away. There were a few empty seats in a row at the bar, so I chose one in the middle to keep from disturbing the other drinkers. Before I could pull the stool out, it slid back on its own and opened up for me. It bewildered me for just a moment before I realized it was magic. I turned and pinned the magician with a steely glare.
He just kept smiling his dopey little smile and gave a little wave.
"Blood," the bitch snarled. She didn't even want to eat him anymore; she just wanted to kill him for sport. It was time to shut her up, or this could get messy. I flagged down a tentative-looking bartender, a young Japanese kid with silky black hair. ‘Kid’ was probably the wrong word, but males generally went through the change later and, compared to me, he was practically a puppy.
"I help you?" he asked in poor English.
"Yeah, can I get a…" I searched my mind for the word; I had looked up Japanese drinks on the internet earlier to make sure I knew what I was getting into. "Um, umeboshisour? Am I saying that right?"
"Yes," he said, with a smile and a polite nod. He set off to create my fancy cocktail, and I tried to relax.
The bitch paced around, whining about how much she hated being caged. Iknow, Iknow, I tried to soothe her. I'llletyou outsoon, I promise.
The bartender was back faster than I expected. He placed a short glass in front of me, a purplish fruit floating with ice in clear, fizzy liquid. I took a sniff; it smelled sour and a little sweet. A tiny sip confirmed that it was indeed pretty sour, and the bite of the alcohol wasn't gentle. The fruit dissolved slowly as I swished it around, the pulpy purple flesh sinking toward the bottom while the ice clinked against the glass.
I turned on my stool, crossed my legs and surveyed the bar. I wasn't the only female in here. A few beautifully made-up Japanese women sat in the laps or looped around the arms of several men with a definite animal scent. They wore sunglasses like I did, but I could feel their gazes from behind the dark lenses.
I couldn't blame them. After all, female werewolves were as rare as the magician had said. That was kind of what had made me run away from the pack in the first place.
I’d adored my pack; we were like a family, but better. We ate, lived, breathed, slept, and even thought together. Our minds were connected, at times even telepathic. The pack took me and my family in when I was five, and after my sudden and unexpected change at sixteen, they had given me a sense of belonging I wasn't sure I would ever know again.
Our alpha was a wolf named Raymond. He was big and burly as a man, and bigger and burlier as a wolf. And twice as mean. No one had ever defeated him, though many had tried, so his pack and his reign continued to expand. He was powerful, physically and mentally, and for a while, in my early twenties, I had been in love with him. That was a normal thing; after all, the alpha is the best potential mate, so pretty much every female werewolf was eager to breed with him. However, I wasn't ready to breed. The breeding process wasn't very kind to the female werewolf. The babies were made the same way—nothing gross or messed up there—but the pregnancy was the rough part. You could stay human the whole time you were pregnant, and keep your wolf contained, which gave you one baby and nine months of resisting the more aggressive side of your dual nature.
Or, you could stay a wolf the entire time, which yielded you a whole litter of baby werewolves in a much shorter time. The catch was that if you stayed a wolf that long, your human mind began to fade away. After several pregnancies as a wolf, your intelligence, your emotions, even your motor skills withered to almost nothing, at which point you had no real other use than to live as a wolf and make puppies. Werewolf reproduction was a crude process, and I wanted nothing to do with it.
I don't think I'm ready to be a mom anyway.
Raymond had been insinuating for months that he was ready to father another litter, this time with me, and I had tried to talk him into the less "productive" human method. He rejected the idea time and time again, and ran out of patience with me. My last night at home, he cornered me. I think he would've attacked me, but I ran. I ran and ran, as far away from him and my pack as I could. Away from the only acceptance I had ever known.
I took a heartier sip of my drink. Damn, this thing is strong, I thought, fighting not to wince.
I'm not sure what brought me to Tokyo. To be honest, I hadn't even thought much about Tokyo before I left. When I ran, I gathered everything I could fit in a suitcase, and took a cab to the bank. Luckily, the members of the pack each had access to a sort of trust fund. No one knew where it came from, but rumor had it the government paid off the alphas to keep us unpredictable "monsters" out of the job world and distanced from society. I cleaned out my account—it was a lot of money but wouldn't last me forever and jetted off to the airport. Fearing for my life, I scanned the departures, wondering where I could go to get away from Raymond, from life as a living puppy mill. Tokyo seemed perfect, and before I knew it, I was there.
Leave it to me to find a shifter bar on my first try, I thought miserably. My brazen behavior probably hadn't been my best choice; there was no telling if Raymond had any contacts with these foreign packs. Before tonight I hadn't known Japan even had shifters, so maybe he didn't either.
“Let him come,” the bitch snarled. She had been ready to tear out his throat the last time we saw him, and her residual anger was making her grouchy.
I didn't realize I had been spaced out so hard, thinking about Raymond, until the stool next to me was scraped away from the bar. Lanky magic boy dropped himself casually into the seat, waving at the bartender, who just nodded and started making a drink.
"How do you like Japan so far?" he asked someone, presumably me.
I wasn't sure I even wanted to talk to him, but it would be the only conversation I'd had since I had left that was in unbroken English. "It's interesting. Definitely the change I was looking for," I said confidently, as though I had come here on my own instead of running.
"Where's the rest of your pack?"
My heart broke as I finally acknowledged it out loud. "I don't have a pack." My voice only wavered a little bit, to my credit.
"Lone wolf, huh?" he joked, with that same infuriating smile.
“Blood,” the bitch growled before I had a chance to speak. He physically shrank back, his smile fading a bit. "She's not very nice, is she?"
"Nope," I said bluntly. Maybe he spoke English, but I really didn't want to talk anymore. Then I realized that I had just told a complete stranger—a damn magician to boot—that I had no pack, no one to come looking for me should I disappear. I felt a surge of strength from my wolf. She was so confident that we could handle anything, sometimes her confidence overwhelmed my caution.
A beat of silence passed between us. I watched out of the corner of my eye as the bartender brought his drink and they exchanged a small bow. He took a few sips, and I hoped I was giving off a very non-conversational energy and that he would leave me alone.
"I'm Mason, by the way," he said.
"Luna," I said curtly.
"Nice to meet you, Luna."
"Yeah," I replied.
"Cute name for a werewolf. I was almost named Merlin, but Mom put her foot down."
Asshole was making fun of my name. I readied a bricklayer joke, but stopped when he smiled.
"You know, I can feel how much you don't want to talk to me."
"Then why are we still talking?" I asked, exasperated.
"Fact of the matter is, you're gonna need someone to help you out here. I don't have to be a wolf to know how dangerous it is to be without a pack. I see a lot of shit working here, and it's not like there are a ton of English-speakers around that are going to understand or even believe your problems. So I'm here to offer my help."
"I don't need your help," I snapped, suddenly enraged. How dare he insinuate I couldn't go it alone? In one swig, I sucked down the rest of my drink. I stood up from my stool, the sour pieces of pickled plum burning my tongue as I wrestled the stool out of my way and stormed out of the bar.
Damn Humans are Everywhere
The problem with storming out of the bar in a huff was that I didn't have another destination in mind. I stood on the sidewalk, tapping my foot in an attempt to keep the bitch in check. She wanted to run free, free of this steel and concrete metropolis. We both yearned for the cool, green forest valley and the hunts with the pack.
Randomly turning to the left, I stepped quickly away from the bar. I barely noted that the bitch took a sampling of the combination of odors that represented this spot in the city. With that, we could always find our way back. Sometimes I think she’s smarter than me.
My random wandering brought me to Roppongi Crossing, one of the largest tourist areas of Tokyo. I felt a hunger pang and could hear my stomach growl. I saw signs for American style restaurants: Outback Steakhouse, Wendy's, and a TGIF. I was ready to go to the Outback; a rare steak would calm the bitch down. Then a new scent, carried on the breeze, made my stomach growl even louder—a scent that brought back memories of blood-warm lamb on a spit, spiced and sliced and served in enormous piles of meat on pita rolls.
I followed my nose down the street that ran from the Roppongi Crossing intersection to find a row of three shawarma shops. Unlike the werewolf-friendly shops I remembered from the US, these had fully cooked meats. I remembered something about Muslim dietary
laws prohibiting the eating of rare or bloody meat, so these weren't the succulent blood-filled slices of lamb I remembered. But the bitch didn't care; she just wanted to gulp mouthfuls of spiced meat.
The shop was tiny, with only a few tables. I set my purse on a table to mark my spot and stepped up to the counter to order. The attendant wasn't Japanese, but a Middle Eastern man who spoke English with an accent. I ignored his flirtatious behavior and ordered three servings of the special.
"Expecting friends?" he asked.
"No, why?" I said as I grabbed the tray loaded with food.
He looked in surprise at the amount of food I had on the tray, glanced at my "don't fuck with me" face, and silently made change.
The meat was delicious, and the first plate quickly disappeared. As I started on a second plate, a trio of Western women came in for a snack. They were dressed in party-girl wear: short skirts, revealing tops, and high heels—very similar to my outfit.
I was the recipient of the classic "once-over" women use to judge each other. Funny that I had never noticed this trait until after my change, when I found the pack hierarchy dynamic was strangely similar.
"Hi," said the blonde, sipping at a Coke in a disposable cup. "First time in Tokyo?"
Now that the bitch had been fed, I felt safe taking off my sunglasses to seem friendly. I smiled at the woman and said, "Why, yes. Just got in a few days ago."
"It's a wonderful place," she said, sliding into the chair across from me. "Where have you been?"
"Just a few restaurants and small bars," I said.
"None of the big tourist attractions?" she asked. "Tokyo Tower, Mori Tower, Tokyo Disney?"
The thought of visiting tourist traps set my teeth on edge. "I don't go for the touristy stuff. I'm more of a club girl."
She laughed, revealing steel fillings in her back teeth. I remembered a pack-mate, originally from Russia, who had gratefully spit out several teeth like that at his first change. Dmitri had moved up in the ranks quickly to become one of Raymond's most trusted lieutenants. The teeth and her scent, so similar to Dmitri’s, told me where she was from.
"So…" said the woman, looking at my three plates with a smile, "you're American?"
"Yes," I replied, flashing my perfect grin. "I bet you're Rus—" I stopped myself, remembering Dmitri's talks about how not all of that continent was Russian. "—from Eastern Europe, right?"
"Da," she said, holding out her hand. "I'm Tatiana." I noted she still hadn't said where she was from.
I took her hand, careful not to squeeze too hard. "I'm Luna. Nice to meet you."
"So you could tell from my accent where I'm from?" asked Tatiana.
"No," I said, "your English is perfect. Just a guess." I remembered several incidents soon after my change, when revealing too much information had caused trouble: Just because a woman smells pregnant, it doesn't mean she would like to hear the news from a stranger. If Tatiana wanted to keep secrets, it was no business of mine.
Tatiana's friends were calling, and she waved at them to wait a moment. "I have to go now. Maybe we'll see you again," she said.
"Nice meeting you," I said, picking up my fork to attack the third plate.
At the door, Tatiana hesitated a second, then turned back. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a business card and put it on the table. I set down my fork and picked up the card. On the front was the name of a bar: Reverb. Turning the card over, I saw an address written in Japanese. It was similar to the card my hotel had given me so I could find my way back.
"If you like bars," said Tatiana, "we'll be there later tonight. Give the card to a cab driver, and he'll take you there."
"Thanks," I said, putting the card in my purse. "Maybe I'll check it out."
Glancing at my purse on the chair beside me, Tatiana said, "Tokyo is very safe, even for single girls. But you might want to keep an eye on your purse in Roppongi."
I had to laugh at the idea of someone being able to move quickly enough to take a purse from my bitch. "Thanks for the advice. I'll be careful."
Although the meat had gone cold, I still finished every bite, to the amazement of the attendant. I spent a few minutes sipping my Coke before deciding to walk around Roppongi. Looking to my left coming out of the restaurant, I could see Tokyo Tower, an Eiffel Tower imitation. Tonight, it was lit up with white lights, making it visible from almost anywhere in Tokyo. I turned right toward the Roppongi Crossing overpass, then left onto Roppongi Dori Avenue.
I walked down Roppongi Dori Avenue, amazed at the sheer vitality of the area. The road was full of vehicles that my mind insisted were traveling on the wrong side of the road, as well as throngs of people from all over the world. I scented Japanese, Chinese, Americans, even some Russians like Tatiana. Learning to sort out the scents would take a while.
I stopped at several bars along the way, trying my new favorite drink, umeboshi sour. Unfortunately, the best one of the night
remained my first, in that supernatural bar. Well, I wasn't about to go back there just for a drink. The bitch and I had spent years avoiding magic and magicians. Even if the place was shifter-friendly, it had one too many magicians for my taste.
At the first bar, I had to brush off a young American who tried to insist on buying me a drink. He had short hair and an impressive body, for a plain human.
"Hi," he said with a friendly smile as he slid onto the stool next to mine. "I'm Randy. Can I buy you a drink?" His breath indicated he had already consumed several too many.
I was momentarily tempted, because drinks in Tokyo were very expensive and I didn't know how long my funds would last. However, the bitch sniffed him once and pronounced him untrustworthy. She's a much better judge of character than I am.
"Oh," I cooed, "I appreciate that, Randy. But I have to meet my boyfriend." I gave him my "regretful" face and slid off the stool.
He made the mistake of grabbing my arm, which almost earned him a broken collarbone. He pulled at me, not budging me in the slightest, as I said, "Please let go."
He was at the point of drunkenness where you can handle only one thought at a time. He continued pulling at my arm, straining until his bicep bulged.
As his face got redder and redder, I reached over and placed my hand on his, preparing to break several fingers. At my touch, he shook his head and abruptly let go. He rubbed his bicep with his left hand for a moment before saying, "I'm sorry, I thought you were gonna fall."
"No, I'm fine," I said. "Thanks for helping me. Now I have to go meet my boyfriend." I saw the thought process in his eyes, how mundanes explained away the supernatural. That woman couldn't
have outarm-wrestledme. Shemusthave beenabouttotrip, andI caughtallherweightononearm.That'swhymyarmissore.
Before he could say anything else, I was out the door and headed down the sidewalk.
Several times during my stroll, I caught the faintest whiff of other shifters and supernaturals: a fox-faced girl dressed in goth style, an incredibly beautiful woman in a crimson silk gown that smelled of human blood and spiders, reptilian-scented men with heads that had a bowl-shaped depression on top. Every time, when I blinked, the person was gone.
I popped into two more bars in Roppongi. In each case, the persistent Randy tracked me down. The first time was cute, the second time annoying. The wolf was getting angry, which would end badly for Randy.
I wasn't worried about a human hurting me. But the memory of how Dmitri and Thomas, my former packmates, had handled similar situations in the past made me long for their company. A fierce look with a low, growled "Leave my sister alone," and even the meanest human would back off with his tail between his legs.
So Randy didn't worry me, but he did make me homesick for my pack. Damn humans.
When I caught his scent in the third bar, I knew I had to get out of Roppongi. Since my back was to the door, he didn't know I could sense him. As he stepped up behind me, ready to surprise me with the “coincidence” that we liked the same spots, I twisted quickly and elbowed him in the solar plexus. He bent over with the breath knocked out of him, and before he could straighten up, I was out the door and waving at a taxi.
The taxi stopped and the rear door popped open. I slid into the taxi, marveling at the cleanliness compared to US taxis. I reached across to close the door, but the driver said, "No, no, I close." I saw him
reach down and pull on a lever. As the door slammed shut, I noticed a tiny sign on the door that said, in English, "Operator will control the door."
I pulled a card from my purse, intending to head back to my hotel, then noticed the card was the one Tatiana had given me for the bar. What the hell. It was away from Roppongi, the Pentagram Pub, and the annoying Randy, and I wasn't ready to call it a night yet.
Ten minutes and nearly two thousand yen later, I was outside another club. More cautious now, I sniffed carefully before entering. I couldn't smell any shifters in the area, but there were faint traces of the ozone smell of magic. I don't like magic (or magicians), but charms and amulets are pretty common. It's getting so a girl can't avoid them.
Unlike the shifter bar, this place had no stairs, just a short hallway to the main floor. The doorman was seated behind a tiny desk in the hallway. He looked at me in puzzlement when I stepped through the door. A quick sniff showed he was human and my inner wolf whispered, "Prey."
In return, he looked me over carefully. "May I help you?" he asked, standing up to block my way.
This was a new experience for me. I had never been denied entry to a bar before, and now it was two in one night. I guess the thighhigh boots didn't do it for him. "Play," whispered the bitch, and it took me a moment to hold her down. Couldn't cut loose on the men here, even though it would be a lot of fun.
"I'm looking for my friend, Tatiana," I said. Reaching into my purse, I pulled out the card she had given me and showed it to him.
Suddenly, he smiled and stepped to one side. "Welcome, please come in. Tatiana is at table five."
I stepped into the main area, where several tables were arranged around and facing a small stage. The monitor and microphone setup
indicated it was a karaoke bar, but no one was singing.
The lights were low, but that wasn't a problem for me; I just shifted to the black-and-white night-vision mode wolves use. Even before I could see the table numbers, I could smell Tatiana and headed in her direction.
She sat at a small table with a Japanese woman and a Japanese man. The man dressed in a fifties-style black suit, white shirt, and a narrow tie. A glance at his footwear showed an expensive pair of pointy-toed ankle-high boots in gleaming black leather.
There was something about the man that disturbed my wolf. Usually, she can pinpoint a person's place in an instant. With this man, she was hesitant. He smelled human, with the faintest overlay of something different. It took me a moment to remember, but I flashed back to our visits to biker bars. The extra scent was tattoo ink. As I got closer, I could tell the tattoo ink was mixed with magic.
Tatiana jumped up with a squeal. "Lunyah! You came. It's great to see you." She hugged me and gave that European-style cheek kiss. She looked at her patron, who gave the tiniest nod, before continuing, "Please join us."
Taking her seat at the table again, Tatiana continued chattering, "This is my friend Ono-san."
Ono-san had the blackest eyes I had ever seen on a human. His short nod of greeting was the only movement he made. Otherwise, he was as still as a statue. It took me a moment to realize he was evaluating methe same way my wolf judged people, trying to fit me into his hierarchy. I was ready to pull down my glasses and show him what he was facing, but a quick glance around the bar, filled with similarly attired men, made me reevaluate. Getting into a fight with a Japanese citizen my first week in town would only lead to complications.
Regretfully, I tamped down the wolf until I was sure she wouldn't show in my eyes, smiled, and pulled off my sunglasses. Just before I banished the bitch to the back of my mind, she gave her judgment of Ono-san. "Predator," she whispered with grudging respect.
Sliding my glasses into my purse, I said, "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Ono-san. I'm Luna."
"Hajimemashite," he said with the smallest bow of his head.
The Japanese woman translated, "Ono-san says he is pleased to meet you."
A fresh champagne glass was produced and set in front of me. The Japanese woman first topped off Ono-san's glass, then filled mine.
With a smile that did not reach his eyes, Ono-san raised his glass in a toasting gesture. We all drank with him. The champagne was cheap, too sweet, and not really to my taste. I preferred more bitter drinks.
Tatiana chattered enough for two people; it seemed her major job here was to entertain Ono-san with flattery. The Japanese woman kept topping off our glasses.
After about thirty minutes, I started getting edgy. I couldn't put my finger on it, but something just seemed wrong. When I looked at the other guests, none would return my gaze. Even with my most engaging smile and look, they would only glance and then look away. It only took a few of these evasions to let me know they were terrified of Ono-San.
A few more minutes and I was getting edgier. It took another minute to pinpoint the source of the anxiety. In all the US bars I had been in, my wolf-sensitive hearing had been able to isolate any conversations about me. This had, on several occasions, given me enough of a warning to let me avoid trouble. Here, with everyone speaking a foreign language, I had no way to tell what they were planning.
I took a minute to use the tiny restroom to prepare for leaving. When I returned, my champagne glass had been refilled. I picked it up and was ready to have my last drink when I caught the scent of the drug. The wolf was instantly clawing at the bars of her cage, eager to attack any asshole who would try to roofie us.
With all my self-control, I set the glass back down on the table and pulled my dark glasses from my purse. Eyes safely hidden, I let the bitch out just enough that she could enhance my senses, strength, and speed.
"Wow! Look at the time," I said. "I need to get back to the hotel. I have a tour leaving early tomorrow. Ono-San, thank you for the drinks. Tatiana, I'll see you around."
In the hallway, the doorman was blocking my way, holding up a printed piece of paper. "You pay now," he said.
Really? These assholes couldn't drug me so now they wanted to scam me? "Killthemall," whispered the wolf. I was inclined to agree with her. I glanced at the receipt, amazed by the number of zeros. What did that come to, something close to ¥100,000? What was the exchange rate? Drop two zeros to round off… A thousand fucking dollars for drugged champagne?
Before I could think, I had my right hand wrapped around the man's tie and collar, lifting him up off the floor with his back against the wall. I felt my hand change, growing stronger, nails extending and ripping through the cloth. Damn,that’sgoingtoruinmymanicure.
The pedestrian thought about ruining nail polish calmed me down. I dropped the man with a growl. As he fell to the floor, I could see his memories re-arranging themselves to save his self-esteem. Yeah, he must have slipped, and I grabbed him to help as he slid against the wall. That's why it takes enormous damage to get through to normals; they always reject anything outside their experience. I felt my nails shift back to human, minus the nail polish.
"You pay now," he repeated, running his hands over his shredded shirt and tie. "You pay, or you work here for Ono-san."
My wolf was ready to kill, but the human half had to live with the results. I reached into my bag and pulled out all my yen. I had over a hundred thousand yen here; that was supposed to last me several weeks. Dropping the money on the tiny desk, I then pulled down my glasses to let him see how close to the surface my monster was. He might be able to rearrange surface memories to forget, but he would have dreams of being prey for a long time.
Mustering my sweetest southern belle tone, I said, "You be sure to tell Ono-san how much I enjoyed his hospitality." I turned toward the door, then turned back on an irresistible impulse. "And be sure to tell him if he tries to come after me for any more money, I'll shove it right up his ass."
Back in the Pentagram Pub
I found myself back on the street, angry and frustrated. It was now late enough that very few people were out. Even the eternal traffic had slowed to a trickle.
Needing to burn off some energy and not-so-cheap champagne, I started walking quickly towards my hotel. After a few steps, I was trotting, then running, then racing full out. Kind of hard in highheeled boots and a tight skirt, but I've been part wolf for a long time. The wind was cool against my brow, and my long hair streamed out behind me. I was moving faster than an Olympic sprinter, about half my full speed in wolf form. A few pedestrians blinked at my passage, then continued on their way.
The wolf inside longed to be free, to run at full speed on four feet, to hunt, to kill. I told her this was the best we could do tonight, and she settled back to enjoy the run.
Exhilarating in the freedom, the scents, the sheer energy of this huge city, I took turns randomly as I covered the miles. Or not so randomly, it seemed, as I found myself back at the bar where I had met the magician.
For some reason, my wolf had wanted to come back here. Or maybe I’d wanted to come back. Sometimes it's hard to determine which of us makes the decisions. I slowed to a trot, then a fast walk, then a
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bräunlich angeflogen, innen heller bräunlich8. — Vom Vertex zum Anus 490 mm, von der Lippe zum Anus (alle Krümmungen mitgemessen) 650, Hinterhand 170. Von Schädel- und Skeletmaassen dieses Exemplares seien nur die folgenden angegeben und zum Vergleiche die eines alten männlichen Skelettes von Parepare, das We b e r (p. 103 und 104) „very large“ nennt, das aber erheblich kleiner und schwächlicher ist als das von Tonkean, trotzdem die Schädelnähte weit mehr verstrichen sind; ebenso weisen sich die Zähne bei dem Tonkean Männchen in allen Dimensionen um ⅓ grösser aus. Dieses Parepare Skelet gehört jetzt dem Dresdner Museum (B 3274).
T o n k e a n (B 3166) P a r e p a r e (B 3274)
Länge des Humerus 185 ,, 165 ,,
Länge des Radius 185 ,, 169 ,,
Einen jüngeren weiblichen Schädel hat M u r i e (P. Z. S. 1872, 725) beschrieben und abgebildet, aber der adulte Schädel differirt bedeutend, so dass auch die Charakteristik, die A n d e r s o n (Anat. Zool. Res. 1878, 81) von dem jüngeren Schädel entwirft (und die F o r b e s : Primates II, 12 1894 verkürzt reproducirt), durchaus nicht für den alten zutrifft. Die Abbildungen dürften eine nähere Beschreibung des adulten Tonkean-Schädels überflüssig machen. Das Exemplar hat 9 Caudalwirbel; S c h l e g e l (Cat. VII, 117, 118 1876) giebt 8 für maurus und ocreatus an, der 9., die Spitze, ist allerdings sehr klein; das Parepare Exemplar hat 7, ist aber möglicherweise defect.
Das Museum besitzt noch den S c h ä d e l eines Jungen von Süd Celebes (259), von mir mitgebracht, im Zahnwechsel, der 1. bleibende Molar bereits vorhanden. Schädellänge 100 mm, Jochbogenbreite 63.
Ferner das S k e l e t eines mas juv. von Süd Celebes (B 1984), von mir mitgebracht, noch nicht im Zahnwechsel, aber der 1. bleibende Molar im Durchbruche. Schädellänge 90 mm, Jochbogenbreite 56.
Endlich einen F o e t u s in Spiritus vom Pik von Bonthain, 1500´ hoch, an dem die Haarstellung vortrefflich zu sehen ist (R i b b e und K ü h n 1883 coll.).
Beide Tonkean Exemplare, das junge Weibchen sowohl, als auch das adulte Männchen, haben schwarze Extremitäten, gegenüber den
grauen des jungen Paares von Buton und Kandari, und, so viel mir scheint, kannte man a d u l t e s c h w a r z g l i e d r i g e bis jetzt überhaupt nicht. So hat, wie Dr. J e n t i n k mir gütigst mittheilt9, das grösste sehr alte Männchen des Leidener Museums (S c h l e g e l
Cat. VI, 118 1876 Ex. 1, J e n t i n k XI, 32 1892 Ex. g) Grau an den Unterarmen und Unterschenkeln; es dürfte dem Tonkean-Männchen an Grösse kaum nachstehen, denn es misst vom Vertex zum Anus 480 mm und von der Lippe zum Anus (mit allen Krümmungen) 640, bei einer Hinterhandlänge von 155 (gegen 490, 650, 170 bei dem [4]Tonkean Exemplare). Wie sich das alte Männchen von Parepare (We b e r p. 103 und 104 Nr. 333, Skelet B 3274 M. Dr.) in dieser Beziehung verhielt, ist nicht mehr zu eruiren gewesen. A n d e r s o n (Cat. Mamm. Ind. Mus. I, 77 1881) registrirt nur graugliedrige, aber es sind keine adulten darunter. Da das Grau gegenüber dem einfarbigen dunkleren Jugendkleide schon der Charakter einer Altersentwicklung ist, so scheint das junge schwarzgliedrige Weibchen von Tonkean zu beweisen, dass die graue Phase an Unterarm und Unterschenkel auch übersprungen werden kann, allein es ist weiteres Material nöthig, um hierin klar zu sehen.
Ich zögere um so weniger M. maurus nur für den jungen ocreatus anzusehen, entgegen der Annahme We b e r s (p. 108), „that both are variations of one species“, als bereits B a r t l e t t (bei M u r i e P. Z. S. 1872, 723) am Lebenden beobachtet hat, d a s s d i e h e l l e Z e i c h n u n g s i c h a u s e i n e m e i n f a r b i g e n K l e i d e m i t d e m A l t e r e n t w i c k e l t . Auch Dr. J e n t i n k glaubt, wie er die Güte hatte mir mitzutheilen, dass die 11 Exemplare des Leidener Museums dasselbe lehren. Es ist wohl möglich, wie We b e r (p. 107) meint, dass Manche diese Entwicklung überhaupt nicht durchmachen und einfarbig bleiben, was ja auch das junge Tonkean Weibchen zu lehren schien. Das Zusammenvorkommen der verschiedenen Färbungen in einem Truppe, das We b e r (p. 104 und 108) beobachtete, spricht vielleicht ebenfalls dafür. Prof.
We b e r hatte die Freundlichkeit mir dieses Zusammenvorkommen noch folgendermaassen auszuführen: „In der Umgegend von Maros waren in einem Walde die Exemplare zahlreich und nicht scheu; sie liessen sich daher gut beobachten. Doch sah ich in demselben Truppe sehr verschiedene Färbungen, namentlich bezüglich der Ausbreitung von Grau oder Weiss auf der Hinterextremität und bei manchen auch auf der Vorderextremität.“ Es sind jedoch weitere Beobachtungen und mehr Materialien nöthig, um hier Klarheit zu gewinnen, denn diese liegt noch keineswegs sicher vor.
Ich habe bisher Celébes, mit Accent auf der zweiten Silbe, geschrieben, weil die Holländer so betonen, A . W i c h m a n n hat aber kürzlich (Gids 1896, 328) wieder hervorgehoben, dass die Spanier im 16. Jahrhunderte die Gegend von Mindanao bis Nord Celebes als Archipel der Célebe oder als Inseln der Célebes, mit Accent auf der 1 Silbe, bezeichneten Die Leute nannten sich Célebe Die Herkunft des Wortes ist bis jetzt dunkel. Man vergleiche C r a w f u r d s etymologische Conjectur (Descr. Dict. Ind. Is. 1856, 90). Der von W i c h m a n n versuchte Beweis, dass die allgemeine Anwendung des Namens Celebes für die ganze Insel sich erst in Folge eines Missverständnisses von H a c k l u y t eingebürgert habe, ist jedoch nicht als gelungen anzusehen (S auch E g l i : Etym geogr. Lex. 1880, 108.) ↑
Was auch L y d e k k e r (Geogr Hist Mam 1896, 47) noch ganz neuerdings thut: „peculiar to the southern portion of the island“. R a d d e (25. Jb. Ver. Erdk. Dresden 1896, 120) sah Buton-Exemplare irrthümlich für Cynopithecus niger an (s. auch unten p 5 Anm 2) ↑
Siehe die Karte in Abh. Mus. Dresden 1896/7 Nr. 2. ↑
E v e r e t t (bei H a r t e r t Nov. Zool. III, 150 1896) erwähnt „probably“ M. maurus vom Pik von Bonthain. Das Museum besitzt einen Foetus dieser Art daher, von 1500′ Höhe (s unten) ↑
Am 3. August 1871 hörte ich in Poso, laut Tagebuchnotiz, dass dort weisse Affen als Anführer der schwarzen vorkommen sollen. Es sind dies vielleicht sehr alte Individuen, Greise, oder jüngere albinotische, wie W e b e r (Zool Erg I 104 1890) sie beschreibt (s. unten Anm.). ↑
R e i c h e n b a c h (Affen T XXIV Fig 370 s a ) hat die Vorderhälfte davon copirt; Fig. 368 und 369 sollen ebenfalls maurus vorstellen, gehören aber
keinenfalls der Art an; sie sind nach einem Exemplare des Museums gezeichnet (p 142), das nicht mehr zu identificiren ist ↑
R e i c h e n b a c h (l c ) hat die Abbildung von P Z S 1860 auf Tafel XXVIII Fig 408 copirt ↑
Diese fünf abkürzten Beschreibungen mögen in Bezug auf Details durch die Abbildungen ergänzt werden ↑
Dr. J e n t i n k schreibt auch, dass nur die Exemplare a, b, c (aus der Gefangenschaft) und j (Cat XI, 32 1892) Arme und Beine n i c h t grau hätten, diese 4 aber sind noch nicht adult; a, b und j werden zwar als: „à peu près adulte“ bezeichnet, aber bei a (Länge vom Vertex zum Anus 330 mm, Hinterhand 120) sind die 3. Molaren erst eben zu sehen, bei b (375 und 140) im Unterkiefer eben im Durchbruche, bei j (420 und 140) sitzt der Schädel noch im Balge, die Längenmaasse beweisen jedoch die Jugend des Thieres zur Genüge. Ex. c ist als „passablement jeune“ bezeichnet (410 und 140). 3. Molar noch nicht zu sehen.
Alte Individuen mit dunklen Beinen sind dies also keineswegs. Auch die weiblichen Albinos, die W e b e r (Zool Erg i, 104 1890) von Maros und Parepare beschreibt, und die er „full grown“ nennt, dürften nicht adult gewesen sein, denn das eine misst vom Vertex zum Anus nur 435, gegen 490 bei dem Dresdner Tonkean Männchen. ↑
[Inhalt]
2. 3. M L.
J . G .
Das Vorkommen von Macacus cynomolgus auf C e l e b e s ist noch nicht ganz sichergestellt. Te m m i n c k (Coup d’oeil III, 112 1849) sagt, dass er dort eine leichte Färbungsdifferenz aufzuweisen scheine. Worauf er sich dabei stützt, ist nicht angegeben, im Leidener Museum sind keine Exemplare von Celebes (S c h l e g e l Cat. VII, 102 1876, J e n t i n k XI, 27 1892). Im Norden kennt man die Art nicht, Dr. R i e d e l , der so lange da lebte, hat nie davon gehört. R o s e n b e r g (Mal. Arch. 1878, 266) giebt an, dass sie im Süden gemein sei. Das kann man jedoch keinenfalls behaupten. Die Herren S a r a s i n theilten mir mit, dass dieser Affe ihnen in Freiheit auf Celebes nicht begegnet sei. We b e r (Zool. Erg. I, 102 1890) sah in Parepare an der Südwestküste ein Exemplar in Gefangenschaft, was nicht beweisend ist, und seine Jäger beobachteten eines bei Loka auf dem Pik von Bonthain, was Bestätigung verlangt. Sonst finde ich keine Angaben; es bedarf daher der sicheren Constatirung des Wildlebens der Art auf Celebes, und, wenn dies der Fall sein sollte, der Untersuchung, wie sie sich zu dem typischen cynomolgus verhält.
Der Makak der P h i l i p p i n e n ist ebensowenig genügend bekannt, wenn auch weit bekannter als der von Celebes. J s . G e o ff r o y basirte 1843 (Arch. Mus. Paris II, 568 pl. 5 = XXXIII, s. auch Cat. syst. 1851, 29) seinen M. philippinensis auf einen von Manila lebend erhaltenen Albino. S l a r k fand in Paris ein Exemplar „von den Philippinen“, das er als M. fur beschrieb (P. Ac. Philad. 1867, 36 pl. I uncol.), J . Ve r r e a u x hatte ihm mitgetheilt, dass dieser Affe nur
auf Luzon vorkäme, was nicht richtig ist. In Luzon erhielt ich ihn 1872 auch (Mus. Berlin). G ü n t h e r (P. Z. S. 1876, 735) führt M. philippinensis aus der S t e e r e schen Sammlung vom Berge Mahayhay in Luzon und (1879, 74) aus der E v e r e t t schen von Nord Mindanao auf. Ich erhielt ihn 1872 auf dem diesem nahen Süd Negros (Mus. Dr. und Berlin) und auf Panay (Mus. Berlin1). Das Dresdner Museum besitzt ihn ausserdem von Cebu. Dr. P l a t e n sammelte ihn 1887 auf Palawan (Mus. Leiden und Braunschweig2); S t e e r e (List 1890, 28) erwähnt ihn von Basilan, Samar und Leyte. (Auf die kritiklose Compilation E l e r a s : Cat. sist. I, 2 1895 kann man in diesem Fall unmöglich Rücksicht nehmen.) Thatsächlich also ist ein Makak über die ganzen Philippinen verbreitet, jedoch noch nicht so genügend bekannt, dass man, ohne Serien von Exemplaren von vielen dieser Inseln [5]in der Hand, über ihn urtheilen könnte. Erst solche werden ergeben, ob, oder wie sich die Localformen dieses weit verbreiteten Affen auf den Philippinen gegen einander abgrenzen.
Auch im Britischen Museum sind Exemplare aus meinen Sammlungen vorhanden ↑
Prof. W . B l a s i u s hatte die Güte mir das Exemplar zur Ansicht zu senden. ↑
[Inhalt]
4. 5. C (D .)
(T .)
Tafel II Fig. 3–4 und III Fig. 3–4
S c h l e g e l (Cat. VII, 119 1876) führt beide als Macacus niger. Was die generische Stellung anlangt, so sagt er zwar (p. 118): „Ce singe rappelle les Papions par son ensemble et plus particulièrement par son museau prolongé et pourvu de deux côtes saillantes“, erachtet dies jedoch nicht für wichtig genug, um die Art zu den afrikanischen Pavianen zu stellen. J e n t i n k (Cat. XII, 32 1892) ist ihm hierin gefolgt, fast alle anderen Autoren aber acceptiren für diese isolirte Form die Gattung Cynopithecus. Auch ich finde die Differenzen, speciell des Schädels, zwischen ihr und Macacus viel zu bedeutend, als dass ich, unter Anwendung der sonst üblichen Regeln, das Zusammenstellen zweier so verschiedener Thiere in e i n e Gattung für gerechtfertigt halten könnte, und andrerseits auch die Unterschiede von Cynocephalus gross genug, um, bei dem räumlichen Abstande, den Celebes Affen von dieser Gattung zu trennen. Es bleibt eben eine der charakteristischesten CelebesFormen, ein Überbleibsel aus früherer Zeit, das erst palaeontologische Entdeckungen ganz verstehen lehren werden. Die Art ist noch viel isolirter als Macacus maurus, dessen nächsten lebenden Verwandten wir doch in M. arctoides Js. Geoffr. von Hinterindien1 suchen können, wenn dieser Verwandter auch kein sehr naher ist. Stellt man mit S c h l e g e l und J e n t i n k C. niger in die Gattung Macacus und neben M. maurus, so verliert er allerdings viel des Exceptionellen, und man könnte dann an die Entstehung dieser beiden isolirten Formen aus einander denken, allein hierzu möchte ich mich keineswegs bekennen.
Zwar haben Q u o y & G a i m a r d (Voy. Astrol. 1833 pl. 7) schon zwei Schädel von C. niger abgebildet, einen jüngeren und einen älteren, allein auch der ältere ist nicht adult, denn der obere 3. Molar ist noch nicht ganz heraus, auch spricht die geringe Dimension des ganzen Schädels, wenn natürliche Grösse gemeint ist, dagegen.
Ausserdem lässt die Kleinheit der Eckzähne ein Weibchen vermuthen, worüber weder aus dem unklar gehaltenen Text (I, 67 1830), noch aus den Tafelerklärungen im Atlas und Texte Sicherheit zu schöpfen ist. Auch scheint das Exemplar gar nicht von Celebes, sondern von Batjan — „Matchian“ (sic!) — zu sein (p. 69). Ich bilde daher auf Tafel II Fig. 3–4 und III Fig. 3–4 den Schädel eines adulten Männchens von Main in der Minahassa (B 2735), in der norma facialis, lateralis, verticalis und basalis (¾ nat. Gr.) ab, so dass ein directer Vergleich mit dem Schädel von Macacus maurus auf denselben Tafeln möglich ist. Dieser Vergleich ergiebt leicht die sehr bedeutenden Unterschiede und erlässt mir ihre textliche Hervorhebung, sowie die nähere Begründung dafür, dass ich nicht beide in die Gattung Macacus zusammenstelle. Wenn der abgebildete Schädel von C. niger auch 8 mm kürzer als der von M. maurus ist, so sind sie im Ganzen doch gleich gross zu nennen und jedenfalls ungefähr gleichaltrig, sowie adult. Auch die Körpergrösse der beiden Exemplare kommt ziemlich überein (vom Vertex zum Anus c. 490 mm2). Der abgebildete ist nicht der grösste nigerSchädel des Museums; ein männlicher (B 1477) von Batjan übertrifft ihn, dessen Maasse, sowie die eines alten, aber defecten männlichen von Main, in der Minahassa (B 2729), ich daneben setze (es sind dieses die 3 ältesten aus einer Serie von 20 Schädeln), und auch einige Skeletmaasse, soweit möglich, hinzufüge, um die oben von M. maurus gegebenen vergleichen zu können: [6]
B 2735 (Cel.)
B 2729 (Cel.)
B 1477 (Batjan)
Schädellänge 136 mm mm 142 mm
am proc. zygom. os. front.
Breite zw. den Augenhöhlen
des Femur3
der Tibia
des Humerus
Die Zahl der Schwanzwirbel giebt S c h l e g e l (Cat. VII, 119 1876) auf 5 an. Das Museum besitzt 7 Skelette: Vier von Celebes haben 3, 4 und 5 Wirbel, bei dem einen der beiden mit 5 sind sie zu 4 verwachsen, eins von Lembeh hat 4, zu 3, zwei von Batjan haben 5, zu 2, resp. 3 verwachsen. Man kann also nicht in allen Fällen von 5 normalen Caudalwirbeln sprechen. Die Ungleichmässigkeit zeigt, dass der Schwanzrest bereits in absteigender Entwicklung begriffen ist; jedenfalls ist er kürzer als der von Macacus maurus.
In meinem Tagebuche finde ich folgende Aufzeichnungen: Im Februar 1871 sah ich an den Ufern des Flusses Tu m u m p a t unweit Manado Schaaren von 25 und mehr, ich schoss auch einige; man hört sie schreien und sieht sie beim Herannahen des Bootes von Baum zu Baum springen, so dass die Äste unter ihrer Last krachen. Am 9. April schoss ich einige hinter M a l a l a j a n g unweit Manado. Am 25. April sah ich sie sehr zahlreich auf M a n a d o t u a . Die Insel ist unbewohnt, aber von Fischern viel und von weither besucht, die die Affen füttern. Früher wurde jährlich von Manado ein Boot mit Essen hingesandt und am Strande deponirt, später beschränkte man sich darauf, ein Floss mit Essen und brennenden Lichtern Abends in See zu schicken4, 1871 that man auch dies nicht mehr, erlaubte aber nicht, sie zu schiessen, da man sonst sterben müsse. Die Affen waren dick und fett und so zahm, dass sie sich in nächster Nähe niedersetzten und erst wegliefen, wenn man sie, sozusagen, greifen konnte, doch näherten sich nur Männchen. Sie warteten auf den Bäumen über uns bis wir vom Essen am Boden aufstanden und stürzten sich dann auf die Reste.
(Vgl. auch bei S c h l e g e l : Cat. VI, 120 1876.) Wahrscheinlich sind sie vom Menschen nach der kleinen vulkanischen Insel Manado tua übergebracht worden. Im April beobachtete ich einen Trupp bei Ta t e l i , nahe Manado, auf hohen Bäumen, wohinauf die Gewehre nicht reichten, auch versteckten sie sich im Laube. Wir machten unten ein Feuer mit viel Rauch, worauf sie auf eine nahe hohe Kokospalme flüchteten. Diese erkletterte einer meiner Begleiter, währenddem sich ein Affe c. 60 Fuss hoch herabfallen liess und anscheinend unbeschädigt davonlief. Auch sah ich einmal am Waldesrand eine Wache, die das Nahen einer Gefahr meldete, worauf aus dem Innern geantwortet wurde. Auf der Insel B a n g k a , im Norden von Celebes (5. Mai), fand ich sie nicht; diese Insel ist grösser als Manado tua. Am 10. Mai in der Strasse Lembeh notirte ich, dass viel Affen auf der Insel und auf der Festlandküste seien. Am 23. Juni in P a n g h u , im Gebirge der Minahassa, viele. Bei
einer Besteigung des K l a b a t (2. Juli) sah ich keine, doch heisst es, dass viele daselbst seien. Am 24. August fand ich welche c. 2000 Fuss hoch auf dem B o l i o h u t o , nordwestlich von Gorontalo, und notirte, dass sie von unten gräulich wären, also alte Exemplare, die stets an der Brust und den Vorderextremitäten [7]grau sind. Sonst ist die Art vom G o r o n t a l o schen und von To m i n i registrirt (S c h l e g e l Cat. VII, 121 1876) und P. und F. S a r a s i n beobachteten sie in Bolang Mongondo zwischen der Minahassa und Gorontalo (Z. Erdk. Berl. XXIX, 375 1894). H i c k s o n (Nat. N. Cel. 1889, 82) nennt sie auf der Insel Talisse, an der Nordspitze von Celebes, häufig.
Te m m i n c k sagt (Coup-d’oeil III, 112 1849) von C. niger, dass er überall, mit Ausnahme der grauschwarzen Schenkel, intensiv schwarz sei. Dies ist jedoch nicht richtig. C. niger ist nie überall intensiv schwarz, sondern stets auf der Oberseite mehr oder weniger, oft sehr stark, mit Braun versetzt. Das eine oder andere Exemplar unter den 16 des Dresdner Museums von der Minahassa, Manado tua und Lembeh ist tiefer schwarz, aber auf dem Rücken zeigen auch diese stets Braun. Es darf daher, entgegen der Angabe fast aller Autoren, die Hervorhebung dieser Farbe in der Beschreibung nicht fehlen. Ferner sind nur die Oberarme und Umgebung (bei alten Individuen aber auch die Unterarme) gräulich, im Gegensatze zu Macacus maurus, wo vornehmlich die Schenkel so auffallend hellgrau gezeichnet erscheinen.
Zugleich trennte Te m m i n c k (p. 112) C. nigrescens ab als braunschwarz, besonders auf den Schultern und dem Rücken, und m i t j e d e r s e i t s u n g e t h e i l t e n G e s ä s s c h w i e l e n , g e g e n ü b e r d e n j e d e r s e i t s z w e i t h e i l i g e n b e i niger.
Die braunschwarze Färbung kann jedoch keinen Unterschied
abgeben, denn alle Exemplare, junge wie alte, männliche wie weibliche, aus der Minahassa, von Manado tua und Lembeh haben, wie bereits bemerkt, mehr oder weniger Braun, letztere besonders ausgesprochen. Erst durch S c h l e g e l (Cat. VII, 121 1876) erfuhr man, dass Te m m i n c k zur Fundirung seines nigrescens 5 Exemplare von Gorontalo, Tulabello und Tomini, also nicht aus der Minahassa, dienten, bei denen es allerdings auffällig ist, dass sie jederseits eine ungetheilte Gesässchwiele haben, gegenüber der jederseits zweitheiligen der Minahassa Exemplare. S c h l e g e l (p. 119) hielt dies für individuelle Variation, was ich nicht annehmen möchte. Die 5 genannten Exemplare, in den Jahren 1842 und 1864, also in 22jährigem Zwischenraum, an 3 verschiedenen Localitäten gesammelt, sprechen schon dagegen, und von den 16 Exemplaren des Dresdner Museums von der Minahassa, Manado tua und Lembeh hat nicht Eines eine ungetheilte Gesässchwiele, auch führt S c h l e g e l (p. 120) unter 5 Exemplaren der Minahassa nur eines an, das sie links ungetheilt habe. Von den GefangenschaftsExemplaren, deren Herkunft man nicht kennt, sehe ich ab. Man kann daher hier nicht von individueller Variation sprechen, sondern es dürfte sich um einen constanten Charakter, der einer geographischen Provinz angehört, handeln. Auch i c h habe in meinem Tagebuch eine Notiz, dass das Gesäss der Gorontaloer Affen dunkler sei, als das der Minahassaer, es muss mir also eine Verschiedenheit aufgefallen sein, ich hatte jedoch keine Gelegenheit, dies näher zu verfolgen. Jedenfalls muss es durch weitere Untersuchungen klar gestellt werden, wie auch, ob andere Differenzen vorhanden sind, vorläufig allerdings lässt sich C. nigrescens als Subspecies—mehr würde die Form nie beanspruchen können—nicht erweisen, sondern man kann nur sagen, dass die Exemplare von Gorontalo bis Tomini an den Gesässchwielen von den Minahassa Exemplaren abzuweichen scheinen.
Der B a t j a n -Affe ist derselbe wie der der Minahassa, von wo er auch dorthin gebracht5 worden sein dürfte. Die 2 Exemplare des Museums haben zweitheilige Schwielen und unter den 5 des Leidener Museums (S c h l e g e l l. c. 121) hat nur eines ungetheilte. Das von Q u o y & G a i m a r d (Voy. Astrol. pl. 7 1833) abgebildete Gesäss eines Exemplares von Makjan (rect. Batjan) ist ungetheilt, allein auf diese Abbildung dürfte kaum Etwas zu geben sein. Ich muss auch bemerken, dass die Art des Trocknens der Häute und die Art des Präparirens hier irreführen kann; 2 Exemplare aus der Minahassa schienen ungetheilte Schwielen zu haben, nach dem Aufweichen kam die Theilung jedoch sehr deutlich zum Vorschein. A n d e r s o n (An. Zool. Res. I, 83 1878 Anm.) lässt auf Batjan nigrescens zu Hause sein—„Celebes, Moluccas, and the small adjacent Island of Batchian“ (sic!) —, was nun ganz irrig ist.6
Die sich durch fast alle Bücher schleppende irrthümliche Angabe, dass sich diese oder eine verwandte [8]Art auch auf den Philippinen fände7, mag daher rühren, dass die seit lange jährlich die Minahassa und die Tominibucht zum Cacao-Einkaufe besuchenden PhilippinenSchiffe lebende Affen mit zurücknahmen, die dann z. B. von Manila aus in ein europäisches Museum kamen oder sonst (z. B. von Sulu durch G o g o r z a , An. Soc. Espan. XVII, 9 des S. A., 1888) registrirt wurden. Eine solche Verschleppung hat gewiss oft statt gefunden, denn Affen werden jedem einlaufenden Schiff angeboten, so m i r sofort, als ich am 25. November 1870 Abends in Kema per Dampfschiff ankam.
E v e r e t t (P. Z. S. 1893, 494) führt arctoides auch von Borneo auf, indem er melanotus Ogilb., den G ü n t h e r (P. Z. S. 1876, 425) von dort nennt, damit identificirt (nach A n d e r s o n : An Zool Res I, 45 1878 und Cat Mamm I, 74 1881), allein das betreffende junge Exemplar hatte, bei einer Körperlänge von 12 Zoll, einen 3½ Zoll langen Schwanz, es kann also nicht arctoides gewesen sein
(S. auch H o s e Mamm. Borneo 1893, 8.) Die neuesten Abbildungen von jungen und alten arctoides findet man bei A n d e r s o n (l c pl I u II 1878) ↑
Die ähnliche Färbung jüngerer Exemplare scheint z. B. W a l l a c e , der vielleicht keine oder wenig Affen auf Celebes schoss, verleitet zu haben, M. maurus im Süden für C. niger zu halten (Mal. Arch. D. A. I, 331 1869), was schon W e b e r (Zool Erg I, 103 1890) bespricht (vgl auch J e n t i n k : T Aardr Gen 1889, 246) So irrte W a l l a c e auch, wohl ebenfalls in Folge dieser Verwechselung, wenn er C. niger über „ganz Celebes“ (p. 393) verbreitet sein lässt; wir sahen bereits oben unter M. maurus, dass er wahrscheinlich nur die Nordhalbinsel bewohnt. Auch Te i j s m a n n (Nat. T. Ned. Ind. 38, 77 1879, s. auch 23, 367 1861) nahm M. maurus im Süden (Pangkadjene) für C. niger; er heisst hier dureh. (S. auch oben p. 1 Anm. 2.) ↑
Die entsprechenden Maasse einiger jüngeren weiblichen Exemplare sind:
B 2737 (Cel.) B 3077 (Lembeh) B 1475 (Batjan)
des Femur
der Tibia
Ob Letzteres nicht in anderem Zusammenhange wie mit den Affen geschah, will ich hier nicht untersuchen. Man vergleiche u. a. H i c k s o n : Nat. N. Cel. 1889, 163 und Globus LX, 154 1891, sowie S c h u r t z Abh. Sächs. Ges. Wiss. Phil. Hist. Cl. XV, II. 68 1895. ↑
Der v R o s e n b e r g schen Angabe (Mal Arch 1878, 268) möchte ich kein grosses Gewicht beimessen, wenn es sich auch so verhalten haben k ö n n t e . ↑
Die beste Synonymie von C niger und nigrescens findet man in A n d e r s o n s ausgezeichnetem Werke ↑
Siehe z. B. W a l l a c e (Mal. Arch. D. A. I, 393 1869 und Geogr. Verbr. D. A. I, 495 1876) S c h u i l i n g (T Aardr Gen 2 s , 536 1888) folgt W a l l a c e blindlings, was schon J e n t i n k (l c VI, 244, 1889) gebührend beleuchtet hat, und so bringt ebenfalls er dieses Philippinen-Vorkommen, wenn auch mit einem „vielleicht“. Dass E l e r a , der unkritischeste aller Compilatoren, noch neuerdings
(Cat. sist. fauna fil. I, 4 1895) wieder die Art auch von Negros und Sulu aufführt, kann unter diesen Umständen nicht Wunder nehmen; eine so kaltblütige Abschreiberei, wie sie E l e r a in seinem mehrbändigen Werke sich hat zu Schulden kommen lassen, dürfte einzig dastehen ↑
[Inhalt]
6. T F .-W .
Die Art kommt nach We b e r (Zool. Ergebn. III, 264 1893) nur auf Celebes, Sangi, Saleyer1 und Savu vor, wir werden aber sehen, dass die Sangi Form von der von Celebes abweicht und abzutrennen ist. Das Museum besitzt T. fuscus von Manado, Lotta und Kenilo, in der Minahassa, von der Insel Menado tua2 bei Manado, vom Pik von Bonthain in Süd Celebes, von Tonkean, in Nordost Celebes gegenüber Peling, und von der Insel Saleyer, im Ganzen 15 Exemplare, das Leidener Museum hat ihn ausserdem von Gorontalo (J e n t i n k Cat. XI, 81 1892), und ebendaher das Berliner Museum aus meiner Sammlung, er scheint also ganz Celebes zu bewohnen. Die Exemplare von Manado tua unterscheiden sich nicht von denen des Festlandes. Ob T. fuscus, wie wahrscheinlich auch Cynopithecus niger, vom Menschen auf diese kleine vulkanische Insel hinübergebracht worden ist?
Das Exemplar von Saleyer hat den Schwanz weniger behaart, scheint aber noch jung zu sein.
Inländischer Name in der Minahassa: tankassin. Ich besass das Gespenstthierchen im Jahr 1871 in Manado lebend, konnte es aber nicht lange in der Gefangenschaft erhalten.
F o r b e s (Prim. I, 21 1894) registrirt die Art irrigerweise auch von den Philippinen. Er nennt als einziges Unterscheidungsmerkmal von T. spectrum (Pall.) die dunkelbraunen Hände, allein an der Farbe der Hände kann man die beiden Arten, deren Charaktere We b e r schon genügend und in bemerkenswerther Weise klar gestellt hat, nicht erkennen. Die Verschiedenheiten im Skeletbaue lohnte es sich
