Ulrik

by Steven E Wedel

  “Come in here,” John said, motioning to the kitchen. They all followed him into the other room and sat around the table.

  “Do you have any coffee?” Vincent asked. “I smell it.”

  Chris watched as the man looked around the room. Vincent’s wandering eyes stopped when they came to the Mr. Coffee machine with the dregs of the morning brew still in the bottom of the pot. “No,” Chris said. “Afraid not.”

  “Vincent works in an electronics store in Oklahoma City,” John said. “He once helped me find a white man who was raping Indian girls. His specialty was eavesdropping equipment.”

  “What?” Chris asked. “You mean …” He looked from John to Vincent.

  “Man, I wish I was a bear instead of a wolf,” Vincent said. “You really tore that fucker apart.” He turned his gleaming eyes back to Chris. “After he played with him for a while. Made him eat his own dick. It was great. Poked out his eyes with those long bear claws.” He held a hand over the splayed fingers of his other hand to show how long the bear claws were. “Then replaced them with his nuts. Beautiful!”

  “Having the music on, or the television, reduces the chances Vincent’s friends outside can hear our conversation,” John said.

  “You mean, they could hear us, in the house, from …” he waved toward the front door. “From somewhere so far away we can’t see them on the monitors.”

  “Oh yeah, man. I listened to you cry a lot,” Vincent said. “Before they got here. You worked outside all day and cried all night.”

  “Shut up,” Chris said, lifting his hand and laying the gun on the surface of the table, keeping his fist closed around the grip.

  “It’s cool, man,” Vincent said.

  “Enough,” Kiona interrupted. She turned her attention to Vincent. “We want to make a deal with Fenris.”

  “Yeah. I told him that. He sent me to find out what you want.”

  “I know where the Alpha is. And the Mother,” Kiona said. “We want to go get them away from Ulrik. Chris wants his son back. Once we take them, though, we’ll need more protection than we have here.”

  Vincent nodded enthusiastically. “You want to go to Cali – You want to go live with Fenris.”

  “In California?” Chris asked, not caring about the sarcasm in his voice. “Are you the smartest one he could send?”

  “Hey, fuck you, rover,” Vincent said, glaring at Chris.

  “Rover?”

  Kiona gave Chris a quick glance. “Dog name,” she said. “Werewolves use it as an insult. You should know more about our culture.”

  “Whatever,” Chris said. “Just get on with it.”

  “We want Fenris’s protection against Ulrik,” Kiona said to Vincent.

  “Fenris is gonna wanna know what he’ll get out of it.”

  “The satisfaction of knowing that Ulrik is not raising and influencing the Alpha male of the Pack,” Kiona said. “Of course, he also has to agree to leave the boy, and us, unharmed. The three of us will act as his parents. He will grow up believing Ulrik is his enemy. I think Fenris will appreciate the irony of that.”

  “The three of us?” Chris asked. “We didn’t discuss that. I’m Joey’s father.”

  “Shut up,” Kiona snapped.

  “You’re not pushing me out of this deal,” Chris said. “And what about Shara?”

  “You want your adulteress wife back?” Kiona asked, turning in her seat to look at Chris. “You want her after she’s been with McGrath?”

  “She thinks I’m dead. She can’t be blamed for it,” Chris said.

  “And such a long period of mourning,” Kiona mocked.

  “Shut up,” Chris warned.

  “You will be his father,” Kiona said. “He already calls me his aunt, and he is familiar with John. The three of us will raise the boy together. Or you can let Ulrik raise him.”

  Chris couldn’t hold her gaze. He looked down at the gun, then up at Vincent. “Do you think Fenris will agree to it?”

  “One way to find out.” The man reached under his coat. Chris quickly lifted the gun and pointed it. “No, man! It’s cool,” Vincent said, pulling a cellular phone from an inside pocket. “I gotta call my man outside. He’ll call Fenris, then call me back.”

  “Do it,” Kiona said.

  Vincent punched in a number and held the phone to his ear. “Walter? It’s me,” he said. He then related the demands Kiona had laid out, paused and listened, then said, “Okay. We’ll be waiting.” He lowered the phone and pushed another button. “He’s calling the boss.”

  “I don’t like this,” Chris said. “Fenris would have killed me if I hadn’t gotten out of the basement.”

  Vincent laughed. “You think you escaped?” he asked. “He let you go, man. You got out of the house, went to a pay phone and called here. We watched you dial the number and tracked it to here. Fenris called us in OKC and told us where to look for the Mother.”

  Chris felt as if his internal organs had suddenly melted within him. “What?” If I hadn’t called ... If I’d just come here, Shara would have still been here. We’d be together.

  Vincent laughed. “Fenris played you like a fiddle, man. He’s a smart motherfucker. That’s why he’s the boss.”

  Chris snatched up the gun and leaned over the table, pressing the barrel against the man’s forehead. Vincent’s laughter died suddenly. “I could kill you now and when your friend calls we could deal with him ourselves,” Chris said.

  “Don’t be an idiot,” Kiona said. “Sit down and put that gun away.”

  “We may need him,” John agreed.

  “I don’t need him,” Chris said. He shoved the gun, forcing Vincent to look up at the ceiling. He imagined pulling the trigger, saw the spray of blood, brains and bones erupting from the back of the werewolf’s head. It was a pleasant vision.

  “Sit down,” John commanded.

  “No. We can – ” He was interrupted by the cell phone. The electronic beeps of “Reveille” played, sharp and demanding.

  “I can push the button and call for help,” Vincent said. “How many of us can the three of you kill?”

  “Chris, please sit down,” Kiona said.

  Chris dropped back into his chair, glaring at Vincent, and keeping the gun leveled at him.

  Vincent pushed a button on his phone and put it to his ear. “Hello.” He listened, then lowered the phone. “The boss agrees. But he wants to know where Ulrik is.”

  “No,” Kiona said. “I’ll tell him after we have the boy.”

  “I don’t know if he’s gonna like that.”

  “It’s non-negotiable,” Kiona said.

  Vincent lifted the phone to his head. “They ain’t goin’ for it. They won’t tell.” He listened, then lowered the phone again. “You gotta take two of us with you.”

  “No,” Kiona said.

  “The boss don’t like people playin’ hardball with him,” Vincent warned.

  “No. Ulrik has guards. If we show up with werewolves he knows aren’t on his side, we’ll never get to the boy. Everything relies on us getting past the guards and to Ulrik and the boy without a fight.”

  Vincent lifted the phone again. “They gotta plan,” he said. “They think they can get the Alpha without a fight if they go alone.” He listened, then asked Kiona, “When and where will you be after you get him?”

  “Fenris can have someone meet us in Houston and fly us to Cali – ” She stopped and grinned at Vincent. “Fly us to wherever he is from there. We’ll have the boy in just over two weeks.”

  Vincent relayed the information into his phone and waited. Finally he lowered the phone and pushed a button. “The boss must be in a better mood than he was last time I talked to him,” he said. “He’s agreed. But, he said if you cheat him he’ll find each of you and make you wish you’d never been born.”

  “Understood,” Kiona said.

  “Get out of my house,” Chris said. “We’re done with you.”

  “Yeah. Okay,” Vincent said as he stood.
He glanced around the kitchen quickly. “You got any beef jerky? Or cigarettes? Or a candy bar? Man, I’d kill for something chocolate.”

  “Unless you want to eat silver, you’ll get your ass out of my house,” Chris said, pointing the gun at Vincent’s face.

  The man lifted his hands again. “Hey, it’s cool. I’m going. Just ain’t got much to eat out there is all.”

  “Get out, or I’ll hold you while he shoots you,” Kiona said.

  “You’re a cold-blooded bitch, just like everyone says,” Vincent said, skirting her chair and heading for the living room.

  Chris followed him out the front door and onto the porch. “Go to the gate without messing around,” he called. “Then get out.”

  For answer, Vincent flipped him off without turning around to face him. Chris lifted the gun, took aim at the man’s back, where his heart would be. “Bang. You’re dead,” he whispered.

  “I don’t think we’ll be seeing Vincent Oldham again,” Kiona said from behind Chris.

  “Why not?”

  “He told us he was involved in the raid here. Shara and McGrath escaped. I don’t think Fenris is the kind of man who forgives mistakes. He sent Oldham, knowing that if we killed him it wouldn’t matter.”

  “It is a dangerous game you play,” John said. “I would not trust Fenris.”

  “We don’t have a choice,” Kiona said.

  “I have to open the gate.” Chris went inside to the TV monitor and found Vincent standing before the closed gate. He punched in the code and watched the man scurry through the opening. He closed the gate.

  John Redleaf is a werebear.

  He wasn’t sure that mattered, but it was information the two Indians had not offered him.

  They’ve turned on Ulrik. They don’t trust Fenris. And I don’t trust them.

  Chris slipped the Glock into its holster, wishing he could get Kiona to tell him where Ulrik was hiding with Shara and Joey.

  Ulrik

  “Woodman’s alive.”

  “Are you sure?” Ulrik asked into the phone.

  “I saw him. Just a minute ago,” the woman said. “They were on the front porch of the house. He’s with Kiona and the Indian you mentioned.”

  “John Redleaf,” Ulrik said. “Thank you, Laura. What else?”

  “They’re in the house now,” she said. “One of Fenris’s guys is in there with them. I’m pretty sure it’s Vincent Oldham. He was part of a cell Fenris kept in Oklahoma City.”

  “He is in the house with them?” Ulrik asked. “Do you know why?”

  “No. Only that Kiona had been calling to him. Three more of Fenris’s people showed up this morning. One of them is Hess.”

  “Walter Hess?”

  “Yes.”

  “He is not loyal to Fenris,” Ulrik said. “He is a mercenary. Fenris’s plans must be failing.”

  “Could be. Oldham is pretty stupid. I’ve watched him sleep through comings and goings at the house. He left his post for a while the other day, and he quit using his eavesdropping equipment. I watched him take it apart. He was mad and threw part of it. I think he must have broken it. Hess brought a new one and is using it now.”

  “He cannot hear you?”

  “No. Those things only work for the target you point them at,” Laura said.

  Ulrik rubbed at his temple. Such high-tech devices were beyond him. Until recently he had not realized how far behind the times he was, or how much he had come to rely on others to do his spying. I expected a battle of brute force. Not espionage.

  “Be careful, Laura,” he said. “Stay safe.”

  “I will. I’ll stay in touch and let you know what’s going on.”

  She is a smart woman. Ulrik nodded, then spoke. “Very good. I know you will.”

  “How are things there?”

  “There have been some unexpected events,” Ulrik said. “Not all have been setbacks. Interesting developments may yet occur.”

  “You’ve always been too cryptic for your own good. You know that?”

  “Perhaps,” Ulrik agreed. “Or perhaps I am just superstitious. Speaking my hope may thwart it.”

  “I love your Old World charm.”

  Ulrik laughed. “Stay safe, Laura,” he said, then hung up the phone.

  He looked out the window and saw no sign of activity. Wind blew through the scattered trees he’d allowed in the yard. Somewhere, he knew, Shara and Thomas were likely together, perhaps making love, though he doubted it. Shara was still upset about Joey.

  Joey …

  The boy’s cycle was upon him and he was alone in the woods surrounding the house.

  Not really alone.

  A half-dozen werewolves kept pace with the boy, staying out of sight and downwind, letting Joey think he was alone. Messengers broke away from the group twice a day to report on Joey’s activity. The boy was hunting successfully and seemed to be doing well.

  Ulrik moved from his desk to his bed and lay down on top of the covers. He napped lightly, his mind troubled with images from the last war he’d fought.

  * * *

  As a wolf, Ulrik lifted his head and howled into the cold German night near Rastenburg. His breath drifted away as wisps of steam before being caught in a gust of winter wind and blown apart in the forest. Above him, on a balcony of the fortress dubbed The Wolf’s Lair, Ulrik heard the mad dictator shouting with rage.

  “Dieser Wolf! Dieser Wolf! Es ist dieser Wolf wieder!”

  Yes, it is this wolf again. He hunts you.

  Ulrik lifted his head and howled again. Then he heard the rustle of movement in the woods. Snow crunched under running feet. Too many feet. Not human.

  Ulrik slipped between two trees and raced south. For months he had haunted the woods around Hitler’s sanctuary, killing soldiers sent to destroy the wolfish menace disturbing the peace of Germany’s insane dictator.

  These are not soldiers.

  Ulrik was sure they were wolves. And not ordinary wolves. He guessed there were four behind him, closing quickly. He darted around another tree and jumped a ravine, then ducked behind a fallen log piled high with snow.

  The wolves appeared behind him. The lead wolf slid and toppled into the ravine, yelping when he hit the brambles at the bottom. A moment later and human cries for help, in French, came from the pit. The other wolves backed off, then two ran at the ravine and jumped over. Ulrik sprang from his hiding place, slashing open the throat of one wolf as soon as it hit the ground. The animal fell and Ulrik pounced on the other. His jaws clamped shut on the wolf’s front leg. He bit down and shook his head, snapping the limb. The wolf yelped and fell, then made the fatal mistake of changing back to a human form. Ulrik noted it was a woman, then he opened her throat when she was at the vulnerable half-way point of her transformation. Her companion was making the same mistake; Ulrik bit the young man’s neck and shook until the man’s head flopped loosely.

  Then the other wolf, a massive silver-furred male jumped the ravine and slammed into Ulrik’s side, sending him sprawling in the snow. Ulrik scrambled to get to his feet, but the other wolf was on him before he could stand, plowing into him, slashing at him with his fangs. Ulrik rolled over and over in the snow, pain shooting through his body from a screaming gash in his shoulder. He came out of the roll in a crouch and launched himself at the silver wolf as it charged him.

  The two bodies collided in mid-air. Fangs and claws ripped and blood splattered the snow as the wolves fell to the ground. Ulrik backed away, bleeding from both shoulders and a gash over his eye. The silver wolf snarled, his long teeth filmed with blood. More blood dripped from the beast’s flank and neck, but the wounds were not deep.

  Ulrik growled a warning. The silver wolf paused, then melted into the shape of a crouching man with long silver hair. Wolf hair showered onto the snow around him. He grinned, his human teeth still stained with blood.

  “At last we meet,” he said. “Yes, I know you. The American wolflord. I am called Fenris. I will be your Ragnarok.”
>
  Ulrik rushed the man, but Fenris was too quick. He darted to the side, his shape shifting as he rolled away. When he came to his feet he was the great silver wolf again. Ulrik charged him again and sank his teeth into Fenris’s back, but lost his hold when the wolf rolled over, pulling Ulrik under him.

  They fought through the night, neither gaining a clear advantage, but as the first rays of sun filtered through the barren branches of the forest Ulrik began to feel fear. He was weak from blood loss and exhaustion. He knew he had not inflicted similar wounds on his foe. He began to think this was a battle he could not win.

  Then Fenris leapt onto him again, covering a greater distance than Ulrik would have believed possible. The silver body slammed into his head, Fenris’s teeth slashing at his back and shoulders again. The pain was incredible, but Ulrik was able to keep his wits about him. Fenris’s stomach was on his snout. He twisted his head and bit into as much flesh as he could grab. Fenris roared with the pain and tried to push himself away. Ulrik used the momentum to pull himself from under the other wolf, maintaining his hold on Fenris’s soft belly as the wolf fell to his side.

  He couldn’t hold it, though. The pain and blood loss was too much. His vision became fuzzy around the edges and he feared he would collapse. Ulrik released Fenris’s stomach and slashed quickly at his throat, but the other wolf was too fast, pushing himself out of reach of Ulrik’s teeth. Blood poured from Fenris’s new wound as he got to his feet.

  But the wound was not enough.

  Ulrik turned and ran.

  He ran in the general direction of the last sounds of battle he’d heard. Fenris was close behind him, often near enough to nip at Ulrik’s hindquarters. Just when Ulrik thought he could not run any more, that he would have to stop and fight Fenris to the death, he picked up the smell of spent gunpowder on the air, then there was a blast that shook the ground. Fenris paused, but Ulrik kept running. Fenris came after him again, but he seemed to be hesitating.

  Ulrik crested a rise and faced a swarm of soldiers running around tanks bearing British markings. They were firing at a small group of fleeing German soldiers. Ulrik hurried toward them.