by John Conroe
“Ruger SP 101, .357,” I answered. “The police can check their records to see if he has it on his permit. Should be a Michigan permit ‘cause his dealer plates are Michigan tags. What’s the dealership name? Mirris Motors? I can look that up and find out the town,” I said, pulling out my iPhone.
“You weren’t even here when he saw it!” Cleveland said to Tanya.
“So you did pull a gun!” Garth said, now angry.
“I didn’t pull it…just showed him I had it was all. No law against owning a gun to protect yourself from dangerous animals,” he said, obviously including us with the animals.
“What’s going on?” Mitch’s voice said from the beach. The two professors had just beached their canoe and were watching our little drama unfold anxiously.
“A disagreement Professor Chance,” Garth replied.
“Oh, you mean when Mr. Cleveland threatened Chris with a gun?” Mitch answered.
“What did you see, Mitch?” Garth asked.
“Well, we had just paddled out on the water after meeting Chris and Awasos. Didn’t get a chance to meet you, ma’am,” Mitch said, directing the last at Tanya with a nod. “Then Cleveland marched up like Billy the Kid and started yelling. He lifted his shirt and had a gun under it.”
“You’re making that up! There’s no way you could see that from the pond!” Cleveland yelled.
Mitch put his hand on the binoculars and held them up. “Gordon was studying some water-striders, so I was watching Awasos through the binoculars, so yeah, I did see. By the way, the dog never left Chris’s side and he never threatened anyone.”
“You people are making me out to be the bad guy! I’m just protecting my son and pregnant wife.”
“Your son was polite, kept his distance and was never in any danger. Your wife called him back from the door of your cabin,” I said.
“Mr.Cleveland, I’ve heard enough. Lock your gun in your cabin or your car. If I see you with it or hear of anymore waving it around, you’ll be asked to leave. Mrs. Gordon, did you still want me to call the sheriff?”
Tanya pretended to think about it, while my link told me she was more bemused by being called Mrs. Gordon. “No, Mr. Boklund, I think we’ll be okay if the Clevelands just leave us alone.”
I happened to glance at the main lodge and saw all three Boklund women lined up, watching the drama. I started to look away, then did a double take. They were holding hands, but it was their their expressions that caught my eye. Britta was looking anxious, while her sister Erika looked intrigued and even smiled when she saw me look their way. Quinby, on the other hand, looked determined and deadly serious, like she was holding guns, not hands. It was such an incongruent scene that it caught my attention.
Garth directed Cleveland back to his cabin then turned to us. “It doesn’t sound like your pet did anything wrong, but we’ve already had our share of problems with wolves and dogs. So you’re gonna have to leash him.”
“Really? Here in the middle of a national forest?” I asked, angry.
“Really, Mr. Gordon, I have a business to run, one that depends on my guests staying safe,” he said, in a level but firm tone.
The logical part of my brain came to his rescue, realizing that he was very much right. The back of the Tahoe had a single length of chain, included for the purpose of providing just this sort of camouflage. I dug it out.
“That’s what you leash him with?” Gordon asked. All three men were studying the length of super heavy duty tow chain with almost identical incredulous expressions.
“Well it’s the lightest that will hold him,” I answered, wrapping the length of tow chain around one of the cement cabin piers that held up the little porch. Truth be told, the chain would never hold him, but how do you explain that the offspring of the Fenris wolf was gonna break any chain you could find. “However, I’m a bit worried about the pier.”
“You’re kidding? Right?” Mitch asked.
“Not entirely. See, he won’t go anywhere if we’re nearby, but if we, say, went to the lodge and he got anxious, then he might pull free. It’s honestly something of a nightmare trying to keep him tied up….it’s a damn good thing he doesn’t like to run like some mutts,” I explained.
I snap linked the chain to his heavy collar, ignoring the look he was giving me. We both knew that I would let him off as soon as everyone left, but he still liked to put on a show.
“Wow, he’s really expressive! I swear you can read every expression on his face!” Garth said. Awasos’s current look was less than complimentary to me.
“Ohhh, yeah, you’re on his shit list!” Mitch said.
Tanya strolled over to Awasos and crouched down, somehow managing to maintain her modesty as she wrapped her arms round his massive neck. There was quite a bit of highly toned leg showing though. Garth didn’t appear to be heading anywhere soon, until a loud throat clearing from his wife caught his attention.
“Well, I’m sorry for this Chris, but you’ll understand I hope?” he said, his eyes coming back to me for a moment, then flicked back to Tanya or maybe just her legs. “Ma’am,” he said, with a nod.
He started to turn away then came back two quick steps till he was close enough to speak quietly and not have Mitch and Gordon hear.
“Quinby was very worried when I was escorting Cleveland here to talk to you,” he said.
“Well the guy does seem to have a temper,” I answered, puzzled by his comment.
“It wasn’t Mr. Cleveland she was worried about,” he said glancing at Tanya, Awasos and back to me. He held my gaze for a moment, conveying some message of warning, then left.
When Garth was about halfway back to the lodge and his waiting women, Mitch spoke.
“That was interesting,” he said. “Oh, I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m Mitchell Chance and this is Gordon Stanger.”
“Oh, this is my wife Tatiana,” I said, belatedly.
“But you two will call me Tanya,” she said with a smile, shaking both their hands.
Chapter 11
The professors went back to their cabin and we went into ours. I lounged on the bed while Tanya dressed in black jeans, black shirt and cute little hiking boots.
“Okay, there is something odd about the Boklunds, particularly Quinby,” I said.
“I think she’s a witch,” Tanya said.
“Well sweetheart, you have that effect on other women – they get intimidated.”
“No, Chris, I mean that I believe she is a real witch,” Tanya said, giving me the look she reserves for when I’m being slow.
“Oh…why do you say that?”
“See, I know that you look at them and see one quarter of a Swedish volleyball team, but I’m not blinded by blonde hair and big boobs. I’ve seen quite a few witches during my life, plus it’s one of those feelings I get like I’ve seen this before only I haven’t. Like déjà vu.”
“Like your mother encountered something while you were unborn?” I asked.
“Yes, precisely. One or two of her necklaces seem familiar in a witch way,” she said, working her thick midnight black hair into a ponytail.
“Well, if I scan her aura I can probably tell right away,” I said, “and I was thinking more like the Swedish National Bikini Team.
“That’s a good idea,” my vampire answered. “We could use a big bunch of ice, don’t you think?” she said with raised eyebrows.
The ice machine had been near the office
“And Chris?” she asked then continued at my lifted brow, “No one has a National Bikini Team.”
“Well men everywhere would agree that that’s a damn shame. But the ice is a good idea. What are you going to do?”
“Awasos and I are going for a little nature hike,” she said as she dug a set of blades from her suitcase.
The sun was still pretty high but she seemed fully awake and the woods would be shaded. They headed into the thick woods near the cabin a few minutes later, just a girl and her oversized wolf-dog.
I turn
ed from watching them go and spotted movement by the massive woodpile. A man I hadn’t seen before was standing, watching them head into the woods, then he looked me over. Middle-aged, maybe late fifties, around my height of five-ten, wearing stained jeans, workboots, a dark tee shirt and heavy gloves. His hair was black and his eyes dark, face tanned and weathered. As soon as he noticed that I had noticed him, he went back to work, a partial cord of neatly stacked wood giving testament to his efforts at organizing Garth’s mess.
Watching him as I walked toward the lodge, ice bucket in hand, I waited to see if he would look up, hoping to start a conversation. My hopes went unfounded as he carefully avoided looking my way. I opened my Sight, that way of looking at the world and seeing what everyone else misses. His aura was the normal blue of solid human, but something about him tugged at my awareness, a little pull of memory or recognition.
The big industrial ice maker was just outside the door to the office, tucked under the eaves of the roof where it was accessible to both cabin guests and any guests of the lodge. I shoveled the bucket full with the ice scoop, trying to catch sight of any of the Boklunds through the screen door. I could hear them inside, but none of them wondered through my view point. A scuff of shoe behind me brought me around. Erika was coming out another door marked ”laundry” with a basket of clean towels and she pulled up short when she saw me, a big smile lighting up her face.
“Finding everything okay, Mr. Gordon?” she asked, with perhaps more interest than most teen-aged employees would muster.
“Yeah, thanks Erika,” I managed, while scanning her with my Sight. Her blue aura was flecked with black and twin pools of deeper black stained the necklace and bracelet she was wearing.
“Well, if you need anything, or any help at all, just let me know,” she said, her smile warm enough that even I got the hint. She stepped forward and brushed something off my sleeve.
“You had a bug on your arm,” she explained.
“Erika! Your sister is waiting for those towels!” Quinby said from the office doorway behind me. I had heard her approach so I wasn’t startled like Erika was. The pretty blonde jumped at her mother’s sharp words, then with a frown thrown at her mother and a final smile for me she turned and headed into the lodge.
“Mr. Gordon, I told my husband that we should return your money and send you packing but he insisted that we let you stay. But I will warn you – I know what she is and I will protect my family!”
Quinby’s aura was even more flecked with black then her daughter’s and her jewelry all inky pools of stored witchy power. I don’t like witches much, nothing good had come from any of my encounters with them.
“Well, ma’am, it seems that everyone at this resort is full of warnings and threats…not the happy, relaxing place your website proclaims it to be,” I told her. “And just to be fair, we know what you are as well, so I’ll tell you this. We are no threat to you and your family, or anyone here for that matter. But if someone attacks us, well then ma’am, I’m pretty sure you’ve never seen anything like us.”
She digested that for a moment, her arms crossed under her rather impressive chest, eyes angry, but with a touch of worry. “There are things in this forest that aren’t impressed with her kind, things that only stay away because of me. You would do well to cut your stay short and get away from here!”
She turned and left, leaving me with confused thoughts and a bucket of ice. I turned and started back to the cabin, noting that woodpile man wasn’t there anymore. However, an older model Jeep Cherokee pulled into the resort and pulled up in front of cabin three. The driver was a big guy, six-three, maybe two hundred and thirty pounds. Close cropped brown hair that was just beginning to salt and pepper. I judged him at thirty-five years old and also figured him for a cop based on his careful, sharp-eyed scan of the resort. He noticed me right away, studying me in the direct way that men in authority will. The passenger was a decent sized six or six-one, probably a healthy one ninety in weight. He looked frazzled, tired and distracted. He had the same brown hair as the driver, but without any gray, maybe in his early thirties. In fact, it was quickly obvious that the two were related, likely brothers. They were very alike aside from the size difference, and the fact that the younger one was a werewolf.
It’s just something I can tell, some ability that comes with the rest of my freaky package. I can always tell vampires and weres at a glance. My Sight showed his blue aura to be riddled with green splotches, the sign of the LV virus. He was fairly new to the condition.
The werewolf brother didn’t notice me, seemingly self-absorbed as he pulled a couple of shotgun cases from the back seat of the Jeep. Both brothers were dressed in camouflage, but it all had a brand new, fresh-from-the-store look to it.
Apparently, I showed too much interest as the older one’s hard-eyed stare got colder and he hustled his brother into their cabin, his sharp eyes flicking from me to the Tahoe and back. The Jeep’s plates were Michigan and like Cleveland’s BMW, the plate holder told me the name of the dealer who had sold it. Steve Dimer Chevrolet-Jeep-Honda.
My iPhone had enough signal to tell me that the Dimer dealership was in Grayling, Michigan right on I-75 in Crawford County, Northern Michigan. Grayling seemed pretty small so I checked for Crawford County’s sheriff department and found a PDF with the previous year’s sheriff’s report. It came complete with a staff photo. In the back row, on the left side, dressed in emergency response team tactical gear with a stoic look on his aviator sunglass covered face, was the older of the two brothers.
Chapter 12
I noticed Britta walking along the cabin road and it looked like she was headed for the same destination I was – cabin three. As soon as she saw me she swiveled and headed to the professors’ cabin, her voice loud enough to hear as she asked if they needed anything. Then with a glance my way she headed back to the lodge, a slight air of frustration about her. Interesting.
The older brother answered the door when I knocked, filling the doorway aggressively.
“Yeah, something I can do for you?” he asked, wearing his professional law enforcement look, one he had probably practiced in front of a mirror early in his career. Up close he was younger than I had thought, maybe early thirties, despite the premature gray in his hair.
“Yeah, are you insane?” I asked, in the same pleasant way I might ask to borrow a screwdriver.
That set him back for an instant, than anger rushed to the surface. “What? Who the hell are you?”
“Oops, forgot to introduce myself – I’m Chris, from cabin four. But what I’m wondering is if the two of you are insane – ‘cause starting tomorrow night we’re going to have three days of a full moon,” I said, pleasantly.
The cop’s face went white and he fell back a half step, revealing his younger brother frozen behind him looking at me in fear and confusion.
I stepped forward instantly, my action causing the big one to step back a full step before he caught himself.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” he demanded, working himself into a rage or at least the semblance of one.
“Sorry to hit you over the head with it, but sometimes that’s the best way. Your brother is a new werewolf and tomorrow night he’ll change for the first….” I trailed off, feeling my head cock to one side as I got a real good look at the werewolfy one. He too was younger than I had first thought, maybe mid-twenties. The tired, haggard look had made him appear much older. My Sight showed me a were that was more than several months old.
“You’ve been through the Change before! More than once?”
He was still frozen, a panicky look on his face, but he flinched at the word Change.
His big brother’s meaty hand descended on the back of my neck, gripping hard, or at least trying to. Chet tells me that touching me is like touching rubber covered steel. The cop’s face registered the odd feeling and the fact that none of his considerable effort was moving me in any way. I turned, his hand falling away ineffectually.
“Stop that. Listen, you’re both about to start a bunch of denials mixed with righteous outrage and then you’ll swear at me and call me crazy. Let’s just skip that part and get to the meat of the matter. This one-“ I pointed at the werewolf, “ is going to sprout teeth, fur and claws tomorrow night. There’s no Alpha here to guide him and control him, so history tells us that he’ll go insane and kill as many people as he can find. On the flip side, I would guess that this isn’t the first change and he isn’t a gibbering idiot, so I’m really interested to hear how this happened, why you’re not insane, and what’s the plan for tomorrow night?”
The sheriff’s deputy opted for trying to punch me. I let him. His fist met my head ( I turned it so it missed my face) and came out of the contact in much worse condition than my head, which is pretty dense (just ask Lydia).