“I will teach him,” Ulrik said.
“He may not wish to learn. If he learns, he may not choose to lead. If he leads,” John said, “He will fail. White men can be killed, but they cannot be stopped. More and more of them come. Like the Indians, skinchangers are few while the white man is many.”
“I ask you again, John Redleaf, why do you tell me this? I have lived with Indians from the time I was an infant. I have seen tribes vanish. I know the history of many people who were in this land before the white men. You know I know this. Why do you tell me these things?”
“Kiona wants the boy,” John said. “The prophecy you seek to fulfill is doomed to fail. The boy is no leader, but Kiona wants him. Let her have him. Let her have him and we will go away.”
“I cannot do that,” Ulrik said. “Even if I were of a mind to agree with you about the prophecy … even if I agreed that Joey lacks the spirit, I could not. He is Shara’s son and I will not give him over to another.”
“You can have Kiona steal the boy, but cannot allow her to keep him?”
“It was not my desire that he be taken as he was,” Ulrik said. “Unforeseen circumstances led us to where we are now.” He paused and leaned toward the Indian to emphasize his words. “I am old, but you would do well to not believe that I am so feeble as to be unable to defend myself, my home and those in my care, John Redleaf.”
“I came to plead my case,” the Indian said. “It is done. So long as Kiona is content, there is no reason for animosity between us, Josef Ulrik. But I think that will not last much longer. I do not wish to stay here and will not encourage it.” He stood up and walked out of the room.
Ulrik watched him go, wondering at some of the things John Redleaf seemed to believe. He came of age in a troubled time. He saw white Americans at their worst.
A half-hour later, the old-fashioned telephone rang. Ulrik snatched up the receiver and pressed it to his ear. Douglas Summers said, “Shara would like to talk to her son.”
Ulrik called for the boy, locking the door behind Joey when he came into the room, leaving Kiona fuming in the hallway with John and their chaperone, Andreas Bratsk. Ulrik handed the telephone receiver to Joey and said, “Your mother would speak with you.”
Shara
“Mom?”
Shara almost dropped the cell phone when she heard Joey’s tiny, distant voice speaking to her. She stammered as she tried to speak. “J-Joey? Is that you?”
“Yes. Where are you?”
“I’m in Oklahoma, baby. Where are you?”
“I don’t know. It’s a big nice house, but the land is ugly.”
“Are you okay, Joey?”
“Yes. I made my arm turn into a wolf’s arm, but I can’t do it again.”
“That’s okay,” Shara said. “Are they being nice to you?”
“Yes. Aunt Kiona is really nice.”
“Who?”
“Aunt Kiona. The Indian lady.”
Shara bit her lip and looked at Douglas Summers. “Joey, baby, she’s not your aunt. She kidnapped you and took you away from me. Remember?”
“She was a wolf when I was. And there was another wolf,” Joey said. Shara’s eyes moved to Thomas, who sat on the floor beside her. “She killed him because he was chasing me. I like Aunt Kiona.”
“What …” Shara paused. “What about Ulrik? Do you like him?”
“He’s okay, I guess.”
“He’s sitting right there with you, isn’t he?”
“Yeah.”
“Is he being nice to you?”
“I guess so.”
“Listen, Joey, I’m going to come get you. But until I get there I want you to stay close to Ulrik. Okay? He won’t let anything bad happen to you. He was my teacher a long time ago.”
“But Aunt Kiona said I should stay with her and John Redleaf.”
“Joey, baby, listen,” Shara said, groping for words that wouldn’t frighten the boy. “I want you to stay with Ulrik. Mommy’s known him for a long, long time. I’m going to come and be with you, but I can’t get there for a couple of days. I want you to stay close to Ulrik and do what he tells you. Okay? Please?”
Joey hesitated for a long moment. “Okay.”
“Thank you, baby. Thank you,” Shara said. Tears had welled up in her eyes. “I’ll be there soon. Then you can show me how you turn your arm into a wolf’s.”
“You mean, it’s okay for me to do it?” he asked. “I haven’t tried very hard because you told me it was bad. Mr. Ulrik keeps trying to make me try. Aunt Kiona says I don’t have to.”
Shara sighed. “I don’t know, Joey. I really don’t. Maybe I was wrong to never let you become a wolf. If I had helped you understand it, maybe you wouldn’t have run away from me.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, and Shara could hear the honest regret in his little voice.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m just glad you’re all right. I’ll be there soon. Stay with Ulrik.”
“Is Dad coming, too?”
More tears leaked from Shara’s eyes as she struggled to answer. “No, baby. Not right now. He’s … Daddy’s busy. But I’ll be there.” Her hand came up and found the golden band on the chain around her neck. “He loves you, though, and misses you.”
“Okay.”
“Okay, baby. I love you. Let me talk to Ulrik for a minute.”
Shara heard Joey say, “She wants to talk to you.” Then Ulrik was speaking into her ear.
“You bastard!” Shara spat. “I’ll play your stupid game, but I’ll never forgive you for what you’ve done. He’s my son!”
“I am sorry you feel that way, my cub,” Ulrik said, reminding Shara of countless other times he had called her that. “But I assure you he is being well taken care of.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Shara admitted. “But you had no right to have that Indian bitch steal him away from me.”
“It is unfortunate that things unfolded as they did. Kiona acted without my consent, and I apologize for that. However, from the news I have gathered, it sounds as if the incident Joey was involved in at his school would have forced a drastic and immediate course of action.”
Shara tried to think of a response and failed.
“You have met Fenris,” Ulrik said, his tone that curious flatness that left Shara wondering if he was asking a question or making a statement.
“Yes,” she said. “He … he killed my husband.”
“I am deeply grieved by that, my cub. Truly I am. But it is important that you understand how ruthless he can be. I think you know that now. He is to be avoided at all costs. Had Joey been with you when last you spoke with him I do not think we would be speaking now.”
“No,” Shara admitted quietly.
“Come to me, my cub. Come and talk with your old professor and let me explain the situation.”
“I’ll be there,” Shara said. “Where are you?”
Ulrik chuckled, his laugh as deep and rich as ever. “Mr. Summers will bring you to me,” he said. “When you are here with me, then you will be given all the information you want.”
“You really are an old bastard,” Shara said.
“I have been called worse.”
“I’m sure.”
“It is good to finally hear your voice again, Shara. I have missed you.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Please let me speak with Mr. Summers for a moment.”
Shara handed the phone to the other man, then lowered her empty hand and absently placed it on Thomas’s shoulders. Her eyes strayed to the suitcases standing beside the front door of the house. She had packed her clothes and Thomas’s as they waited for Douglas Summers to return. She’d also taken the Winchester repeating rifle, the 30-.06 with a high-powered scope, and her .357 revolver and placed them with the luggage, all loaded with silver bullets. More silver ammunition was packed into one of the suitcases.
“We will be there soon,” Summers said. He ended his call and placed his small black telephone in an insi
de pocket of his sport jacket. He smiled at Shara and said, “I really am glad this is all working out.”
“Sure,” Shara agreed. “It’s peachy. When are we leaving?”
“I have arranged for a pilot to fly us out of the municipal airport at 6 a.m. tomorrow. In the meantime, I was hoping you could make arrangements for me here,” he said. “Ulrik would prefer that we remain together now.”
“Umm. I’m sure he would,” Shara said. “Fine. You can have the guest bedroom. Thomas doesn’t really need it at the moment.”
“Very good. I have a satchel in the car.” He stood and went to the front door.
Shara watched him leave the house, then whispered to Thomas, “I hope we’re doing the right thing. I don’t trust any of them. I wouldn’t – ”
“Shara!” Summers called from the porch. She heard footsteps running toward the house. She jumped up and ran for the door. Thomas was already out of the house when the gunshot sounded.
Shara stopped on the porch. Douglas Summers was laying facedown in the driveway. There was a small hole in the back of his sport coat and a pool of dark red blood was spreading beneath his chest. His eyes and mouth where open but lifeless. A travel-beaten brown leather satchel lay on its side a few feet from him.
Shara took a step toward Summers before an explosion sent her staggering backward. She tripped over the threshold of her front door, fell backward and sat down hard, her eyes going toward the gate at the end of her driveway. The air was filled with dirt where the gates had stood. Then chunks of brick and pieces of steel bars rained down on the lawn. Two glowing eyes appeared in the settling dust, racing toward the house.
Not eyes! Headlights. A truck!
Shara jumped up. “Thomas!” she screamed. She scrambled around the front door and grabbed the Winchester rifle. When she came back to the porch the truck was close enough that she could make out five individuals, two inside and three more standing in the bed, holding on to a chrome roll bar. Thomas was worrying with the corpse of Douglas Summers. “Get in here!” Shara yelled, bringing the rifle to her shoulder.
A man in the back of the truck pointed a pistol at Thomas and squeezed off a shot. The bullet buried itself into Summers’ body. Shara returned fire. Her bullet spiderwebbed the windshield of the pickup but missed the driver. Her eyes flicked from the oncoming attackers to Thomas. The wolf had managed to roll the body onto its back and was poking its nose under the coat.
Shara took aim and fired again. The bullet was higher than she’d wanted, but it caught the middle figure standing in the truck. Had it been a normal man, the wound would have been superficial. But the man immediately fell over backward and Shara could hear him screaming as the truck bounced closer.
Thomas raced past her and into the house, Summers’ cell phone clutched between his teeth. Shara fired two more quick shots as the pickup left the curved driveway to cut across the lawn. The passenger side window shattered and she saw a spray of blood within. Then Thomas was trying to get around her.
“No!” Shara yelled, moving to block the doorway. “They won’t kill me, but they’ll shoot you the way they shot him.” She waved at Summers’ corpse with her rifle barrel. Then she raised the gun and squeezed off another shot at the woman standing in the truck’s bed. She missed.
The truck stopped. The two people in back, a man and woman, jumped out on the side away from Shara, keeping the truck between them and her gun. The driver’s door was flung open and another man got out; he was already half-transformed to the shape of a wolf. A moment later three wolves burst from around the truck. One came straight at the house while the other two angled away.
Shara fired at the one coming straight at her, but missed again. Damn! I’m better than this. I have to calm down. Thomas pushed at her thighs and she let him go. They can’t shoot him now. She took aim at the wolf to her right and got a solid shot in the animal’s flank. It jerked and fell. She turned her attention to the other wolf, but couldn’t find it.
Thomas had met the last wolf just a few feet beyond where Douglas Summers lay in a pool of his own blood. The two wolves lunged at one another, fangs bared, slashing as they used their weight to push the other away. Shara held her rifle ready, hoping to get a shot at the enemy, but wary of hitting Thomas.
The sound of breaking glass came from behind her. Shara ran for the kitchen and found the woman she’d seen in the back of the truck climbing through the window over her kitchen sink. The woman saw her and let her face return to its wolf shape. She bared her fangs at Shara and quickly dropped back out of sight. Shara ran to the window and leaned out, the rifle held before her, but the wolf-woman was gone. She hesitated a moment, then hurried back to the front door.
The woman had joined the other wolf in the fight against Thomas. Together, they were backing him toward the front door of the house. Shara lifted the gun and fired over the heads of the animals, but the warning had no effect.
Thomas was bleeding from a gash on his right shoulder and his face was covered in blood. The male wolf he’d fought had numerous minor wounds and one on his neck that was bleeding heavily. Thomas lunged at the male, but was blocked by the female, who slashed her fangs across his left shoulder. Thomas yelped and jumped away.
The male wolf turned and ran then, making a zig-zag pattern as he raced back toward his pickup. Shara followed him with the rifle sights and when she anticipated which way he would juke, she squeezed the trigger. The chamber was empty.
“Damn!” She jumped inside for the other rifle. When she came back to the open doorway the female wolf was gone. The pickup’s engine was roaring and the rear tires were digging into her lawn as the vehicle spun around to head for the ragged opening in the fence where the gate had been. Shara raised the rifle, but didn’t fire; she couldn’t get a clean shot at the driver’s head because the truck was weaving. She lowered the rifle and found Thomas. He was sitting where the battle had ended. Blood flowed from both shoulders.
“Come on,” Shara called. “They won’t be back for a while. Let’s get you patched up and get the hell out of here.”
Reluctantly, Thomas turned away from the rubble and came into the house. Shara cleaned his wounds and began to hurriedly stitch up the deepest cuts. “This is getting to be a real habit for me,” she said. Thomas only whined and licked her arm.
An hour later, they were in their own truck and heading for the Stillwater airport. Thomas pawed at Shara’s purse until Douglas Summers’ cell phone spilled out. He picked it up in his mouth and dropped it in Shara’s lap as she was driving.
Shara laughed. “Of course,” she said. “Ulrik’s number will be stored on that thing.”
Ulrik
Joey scrunched up his face in concentration, his eyes closed and his nose wrinkled. The pale-skinned, thin child sat cross-legged in the yard, wearing nothing but a pair of shorts.
“You can do it, Joey,” Ulrik coaxed. “Remember what you thought to change your arm. Remember that your mother gave permission for you to transform. You can do this.”
Blond hair suddenly twisted from the pores of the boy’s flesh. His small chest and tiny arms were soon covered in wolf hair. Ulrik couldn’t hide his grin. “You are doing very well,” he said. “Now let it go. Let the transformation sweep over you. Give yourself to it.”
Behind him, on the back porch of the house, Ulrik knew Kiona and John watched him and Joey. Andreas hovered nearby, bored with his duty, but obedient to Ulrik’s will that he help watch over Joey. Now that he’d talked to his mother, Joey seemed much more willing to cooperate, and something Shara had said to the boy had driven some small wedge between him and Kiona. Ulrik was glad for that.
Joey gasped in pain. Ulrik saw that his hands and feet were changing. “This is good,” Ulrik said. “You are doing it, Joey. Very good. Let it happen.”
“It h-hurts,” Joey said. Then he lost it. His hands and feet reshaped themselves to their human form and the wolf hairs broke away and drifted toward the ground.
“Y
es. It hurts at first,” Ulrik said. “Watch.” He held his arms toward the boy and slowly allowed his hands to reshape themselves. The fingers pulled inward and the palms thickened. Gray and black hair sprouted from the skin. Ulrik let the change work its way up from his hands. His arms thickened and took on more defined muscle tone before they, too, were covered in gray and black hair. His shoulders and chest thickened and grew hair. The boy’s brow wrinkled – so like his mother – and Ulrik let the change move to his head. His beard became even thicker, the hair spreading like moss up toward his eyes as his skull melted and reformed. He sat before Joey in the dangerous half-wolf condition.
“Didn’t it hurt?” Joey asked.
Ulrik let his face return to its human shape. “No,” he answered. “It grows easier over time.” He watched Joey studying his body as he let the wolf go, returning to his completely human form. “Your mother, too, feared the pain of transformation at first. She overcame it quickly. You can, too. You have seen how I do it. The change will cause you some amount of pain, but it will not hurt you. Let it happen, and when the pain is finished you will be a wolf.
“Try again.”
Joey nodded and closed his eyes again. This time he didn’t scrunch up his face as hard, but Ulrik sensed that the boy was concentrating just as fiercely. Very quickly, his body grew its coat of wolf hair again. His hands began changing, but paused and restarted.
“You are doing very well, Joey,” Ulrik said. “Let it take you. You will do this, and when your mother arrives you will show her. She will be very proud of you.”
A slow groan came from Joey’s throat as the transformation took hold. His hands, feet, arms and legs all began to change together. As his limbs reshaped themselves, his jaw suddenly lengthened while his ears shifted position with the changing shape of his skull. Less than a minute later he sat before Ulrik as a golden wolf. Ulrik smiled broadly.
“Magnificent,” he said. He urged Joey to stand up, then tore the shorts off the haunches of the wolf. “Come. Run with me,” he said. He stripped away his own clothes and called the wolf. When his transformation was complete he playfully nudged Joey’s shoulder, then trotted away. Joey raced past him and Ulrik gave chase.
Ulrik Page 16
