Ulrik

by Steven E Wedel

  He didn’t hear the phone ringing in his house, but Kiona did.

  Kiona

  “Hello.” Kiona Brokentooth held the phone close to her ear as she stood in the kitchen of Ulrik’s house.

  “Uhh, hello?” a woman’s voice said. “Is Ulrik there?”

  “Who is this?”

  “This is Shara.”

  Kiona’s grip tightened on the telephone receiver. Behind her, she heard Andreas enter the kitchen, followed by the heavier step of John Redleaf. “He isn’t here,” she said.

  “Where is he?”

  “None of your business.”

  “This is Kiona, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Get Ulrik. Now.”

  Kiona heard Andreas approaching quickly behind her. “Give me the phone,” he said. She turned just enough to see John Redleaf grab the smaller man by the shoulders and shove him against a wall. Andreas immediately began to transform to his wolf shape, but froze with wide eyes as John let his own face take on the features of the great bear.

  “No, I don’t think I’ll do that,” Kiona said into the phone.

  “Listen to me, you bitch. There’s been a change of plans. Douglas Summers is dead. We were attacked,” Shara said. “I need to talk to Ulrik.”

  “You can try again later.” Kiona hung up the receiver. She changed her arm and shoulder to the muscular half-wolf shape and slapped the telephone off the wall. It shattered into several pieces, many of which went skittering across the tiled floor of the kitchen. “There has been a change of plans,” she said, turning to the two men behind her. She nodded to John and said, “Kill him.”

  Ulrik

  The rabbit was alert, but so far unaware of where the danger was coming from. Ulrik lay very still, his wolf eyes moving from the rabbit to Joey as the young wolf crept forward. He’s not low enough.

  Sunlight falling through the tree branches created a patchwork of light and shade on the ground. A few birds sang overhead, but mostly the thin belt of woods was silent. The rabbit chewed grass, its long brown ears twitching as it remained vigilant.

  Joey stepped on a dry leaf and it crunched under his foot. The rabbit bolted. Joey hesitated a moment – a moment too long – then gave chase. The rabbit left the woods and ran across the open space toward another tree belt. Within twenty yards the rabbit was out of reach, but Joey ran another fifty yards before giving up. He turned around, his head and tail down.

  Ulrik trotted up to him and nuzzled his head. When he had Joey’s full attention, he lowered his nose to the dry grass and sniffed, showing the youngster how to detect the rabbit’s scent. Ulrik kept his nose low and followed the rabbit’s trail toward the trees. Joey followed, snuffling loudly along the ground.

  They found the rabbit sitting in the crook of some gnarled tree roots. Ulrik stopped Joey and indicated he should wait and watch. Ulrik determined which way the light breeze was blowing and moved them so that they were downwind of the prey, then he lowered his head and crept toward the unsuspecting rabbit, coming in from behind it and on the right side. At the last moment, the rabbit sensed danger and jumped, but Ulrik was already in the air. His jaws closed on the rabbit’s neck. He shook his head once, breaking the rabbit’s neck, then took the meal and dropped it at Joey’s feet.

  The young wolf sniffed it for a moment. Ulrik watched as the boy within shrank from the wolf’s desire to tear into the body and devour the meat. He put a paw on the rabbit’s head to hold it steady and took a bite from the haunch. Slowly, Joey lowered his head and sniffed the new wound, then flicked his tongue out to taste the blood. He looked up at Ulrik, then back down, and timidly pulled away a small bite. He swallowed, paused, then tore off a bigger piece of meat.

  Ulrik smiled, determining then that he would not return home just yet, that he would keep the boy with him during his own cycle and continue to teach him to hunt, away from any influence of Kiona.

  When we go home, he will have learned the ways of the wolf, and his mother will be there to greet him.

  The thought gave Ulrik pause. Shara and Kiona together without me. He let it go, knowing that Shara would have the protection of Douglas Summers and Thomas McGrath, as well as that of Andreas and the other werewolves guarding the house.

  He watched Joey smack his wolfish lips, relishing the new taste of very fresh meat.

  Shara

  Shara stared at the phone. She’d parked her truck about a mile away from the airport to figure out the menu on the cellular phone. She found the last number Douglas Summers had called, and dialed it to be greeted by the woman who had stolen her son. She looked at Thomas and saw that he wanted very badly to communicate with her, but couldn’t do it in his wolf form.

  “What would you say if you were a man right now?” Shara asked. She looked back at the phone and asked, “Can I call an operator on this thing?”

  After a few attempts, she got through to the customer support for the wireless service provider. She explained that she was the niece of Douglas Summers and that her uncle was trying to get the location of a friend who had called and needed help. She read off Ulrik’s phone number.

  “That number is in Las Sombras, Mexico,” the woman on the other end said.

  “Ah, we suspected it was Mexico,” Shara said. “Can you give me a more specific address?”

  “No, ma’am, I’m not allowed to do that.”

  “This could be an emergency,” Shara said.

  “I can notify the authorities and have help sent.”

  “No. No, don’t do that. Not yet, anyway. I’ll call back if we need you to do that.” Shara ended the call and gently tapped the phone against the steering wheel of the truck. “Las Sombras, Mexico. I don’t have any idea where that is.”

  A black BMW with tinted windows drove past and Shara found herself studying the darkened glass, wondering if there were werewolves inside the car. The vehicle rounded a curve and disappeared. She turned her attention to Thomas.

  “Okay. I don’t think we can go to the airport and ask who’d scheduled a flight to Las Sombras,” she said. “Probably, Ulrik and Summers would have planned out a complicated route to throw people off, anyway. If we go asking, somebody would remember and likely tell the next people who come asking about the confused woman with the big wolf.”

  She thought for a moment. “We could book a flight on a commercial airline. Is Las Sombras close to anything in Mexico big enough to have an airport?”

  Thomas whined in answer. Shara smiled at him and rubbed the fur of his throat. “I’ll be glad when you can talk to me again,” she said, then thought of how she was touching him. She pulled her hand away slowly.

  “What are the problems of taking a commercial flight? I suppose they could track me. I don’t have a new identity cooked up yet, so it would either be my real name or Linda Stewart, and Fenris knows both of those.” She paused, not liking the obvious option. “I guess we’re going to drive to Mexico.”

  She put the truck in gear and pointed it south.

  Ulrik

  In the dark of the woods, Ulrik the wolf dreamed. Beside him, Joey lay still, also asleep, but in human form. He had changed his shape many times during the day, so Ulrik did not mind that he slept as a human. The boy was snuggled close to the wolf and, although Joey’s scent was much different, having a human child sleeping so close to him reminded Ulrik of another time, of another child.

  * * *

  There was talk of succession and war when Ulrik arrived in Little Rock, Arkansas. He had guessed the slave situation would come to war, but was surprised it came so quickly. The men he overheard talked of a quick war against Yankees who had no stomach for combat. Ulrik interrupted two men.

  “I am looking for a brothel,” he said. “One that would have a young black girl with light skin. She is nine years old.”

  “Somebody steal your nigger girl, mister?” one of the men, a thin cracker with a thick mustache, asked. He and his clean-shaven companion laughed.

  “Y
es,” Ulrik said, refusing to be baited. “Can you tell me where I might find such a house?”

  “Hell, I wish you could tell me where I could find some of that,” the mustached man said, laughing harder.

  Ulrik looked around quickly and determined there were too many people on the street for him to kill the men. He left them laughing together and found a saloon around two corners, near the waterfront of the Arkansas River. He ordered a beer and put his question to the short, fat bartender.

  “I heard Brad Fowler has a girl like that,” the man said. “Just brought her up from the Deep South a week or so back. He charges twenty dollars for her services.”

  “Twenty dollars?” Ulrik repeated.

  “That’s what I heard. I ain’t been, myself. I don’t mind a whore every once in a while, even a nigger whore, but I just don’t know about doing a little kid like that. They say there’s usually a line for her and sometimes Fowler takes bids to see who’ll be the first customer for the night.”

  “I see,” Ulrik said. “Can you tell me where I can find Mr. Fowler’s establishment?”

  “Gonna give it a try, huh? Well, to each his own. Didn’t mean to judge you, or nothing,” the bartender said. He gave directions to the brothel, then tried to sell Ulrik another beer. Ulrik gave a generous tip and left the saloon.

  It was late afternoon when he arrived at the brothel, a three-story white house with gables and black trim. Women in heavy makeup lounged on a sprawling porch, talking with men who had shown up early for their services. Ulrik approached a chubby blonde who seemed to be garnering the most attention. He pressed a ten-dollar gold piece into her hand.

  “I would speak with Mr. Fowler,” he said.

  The woman looked at the coin, then at Ulrik. She smiled with her painted mouth and said, “You can talk to me all evening for this much money.”

  “I would speak with Mr. Fowler,” Ulrik repeated.

  She gave him a disdainful look, but gathered her skirt and flounced away, disappearing through the front door of the whorehouse.

  “Haven’t seen you around here before,” a cowhand said to Ulrik.

  “No, you have not,” Ulrik said. “Pray you do not see me again.” He followed the woman into the house. The front room was carpeted in red, with several red velvet sofas and chairs around the room. The whore was coming out of another room, a heavy-set, dark-haired man following her.

  “That’s him,” she said, pointing to Ulrik.

  “Thank you, Mavis,” the man said in a deep voice. He had dark eyes that he kept fixed on Ulrik as he approached. He held out a hand, saying, “A man who is so free with his gold is always welcome here.”

  Ulrik ignored the hand. “I am here for the girl named Beauty.”

  “Ah, a man of distinctive taste, I see.” Fowler lowered his hand as his smile grew. “She’s quite popular. Are you looking to be first tonight?”

  “I would like to see her,” Ulrik said.

  “That gold piece you gave Mavis, that wasn’t the only one you have now, is it?”

  “I assure you I am quite wealthy,” Ulrik answered. “Show me the girl.”

  Still, the man hesitated. Ulrik reached into a pocket of his coat and took out another gold coin. He tossed it to the man and Fowler’s attitude brightened. “Very good,” he said. “Right this way. Of course, the usual rate for Beauty’s services is twenty dollars an hour. And, since it is before our usual business hours here, I’m sure you’ll understand if the rates are a little higher. Please, follow me.”

  Fowler led Ulrik up a flight of stairs to a second-floor bedroom. He rapped quickly on the door, then pushed it open and entered the room. Ulrik followed.

  The girl sat on a large bed, dressed in a short red dress with red bows in her pigtailed hair. Her skin was very light for a Negro, like weak cocoa, Ulrik thought, and he knew why she was such a prize to the brothel owner. He closed his eyes for a moment and remembered the face of Beauty’s father as he died, begging his killer to help his little girl. Now it was the girl’s frightened eyes looking at him. Ulrik closed the door behind him.

  “I am here to help you,” he said.

  “Call it whatever you want, but you’ll have to pay me another thirty dollars before you start,” Fowler said.

  “I knew your father, Beauty,” Ulrik said. “He asked me to help you.” Her eyes brightened, but she kept looking furtively at her owner. “Please lie down on the bed and bury your face in the pillow,” Ulrik instructed. “Do not look up, no matter what you hear.”

  “Hold on, mister,” Fowler said. “I don’t have to watch. Just give me the money and I’ll be – ”

  “Be silent!” Ulrik barked. “Please, Beauty, do this for me. I am not here to hurt you. Do this quickly.”

  The girl climbed onto the bed and pressed her face into the pillow. She pulled the short dress up to reveal her naked buttocks, then held her hands over her ears.

  “I told you –”

  Ulrik called the wolf and immediately he was in the stage of transformation that was neither man nor wolf but the most ferocious looking. And the strongest. He grabbed Fowler by the throat and lifted him off the floor, pressing his face close to the man’s. The smell of urine filled Ulrik’s nostrils as it ran down Fowler’s leg and onto his rich carpet.

  “Holy God,” the man whined.

  Ulrik wanted to kill the man slowly, making him suffer immeasurable pain for what he’d done to the girl, but there wasn’t time for it. He shook the man sharply, felt the neck crack in his grasp, and lowered the body to the floor. He let his features dissolve to human again and brushed the loose wolf hairs from his hands and face.

  Stepping to the bed, Ulrik quickly flicked the girl’s skirt down to cover her nakedness, then lifted her from the bed. He left the room carrying her, closing the door behind him, and left the brothel. No one dared question him, despite many surprised looks. By the time Fowler’s body was found, Ulrik had vanished and was soon out of town, driving a buckboard toward Indian Territory.

  * * *

  Ulrik awoke at the memory of the rough ride, the young girl huddled beside him, clinging to him as they put miles between themselves and Little Rock. They spent nights camped off the road in the deepest woods he could get the wagon into, usually without benefit of a fire. He remembered not telling her the whole truth about her parents. That her mother had been whipped to death for being unable to control her hysterics at the sale of her daughter was true enough, but Ulrik couldn’t bring himself to tell her he’d had to kill her father.

  Ulrik lowered his head to his paws but did not close his eyes. He’d heard of the sale through a network of black and white contacts he kept as he prowled the woods and swamps of the South following the destruction of his own plantation. He’d followed Beauty’s father, Henry, as he escaped from his master, had helped the man keep running when his body was ready to give up and, as the dogs closed in, had left the runaway slave, changed his shape and killed the dogs and the men following them.

  But the slave came back. He saw me.

  That wasn’t allowed. Henry had fled the sight of the half-man, half-wolf creature he’d seen. But Ulrik let the wolf come completely forward and gave chase. There’d been no choice but to kill Henry. Before the man died, however, Ulrik promised to find his little girl and take care of her.

  Almost as an apology to the girl, an apology that came without admitting his crime, Ulrik had explained his ability to change shape. It had been necessary. He needed the keener senses of the wolf to protect them during the night. So he’d slept as a wolf, with the girl nestled close to him.

  She had no fear. She had no reason to fear me. She had already seen the brutality of man.

  Beauty was a good child – alert, curious and polite. Ulrik had soon found himself loving her, something he hadn’t anticipated. As they traveled north in Indian Territory he had offered to give her his Gift, but the girl declined.

  “My momma wouldn’t want me being no wolf,” she’d said. “Daddy,
neither.”

  And so it was settled. Ulrik left her with a childless Choctaw couple, giving them a good deal of money to help them take care of her and have a better life for themselves. He remembered fondly her tight, tearful hug of gratitude as he prepared to leave her in her new home. For most of a month he’d prowled the area as a wolf, making sure the girl was treated well, before he set out for the West.

  Ulrik looked to Joey sleeping beside him. Once his mother’s prohibition had been removed, he had shown great aptitude, though he still had much to learn.

  I will give him the rune before my time is upon me. He will bear the mark when we return home to meet his mother.

  Ulrik closed his eyes and slept peacefully until dawn, then the sound and smell of Joey urinating behind a tree woke him up again.

  Chris

  The sun was rising when the Northwest Airlines jet touched down in Oklahoma City. Chris awoke at the jolt of the rubber tires kissing the tarmac. He sat up straight and nearly cried out, “I shouldn’t have left her!” He caught the words before they escaped and fought down his panic. Fortunately, the airplane had few passengers and his alarm went unnoticed.

  I shouldn’t have left Jenny there alone.

  It was an irrational thought, he knew. There was nothing he could do for her. Taking her would have been kidnapping since he had no intention of spending the time necessary to return her to her parents, who were probably dead, anyway.

  She’s one of them now. Fenris will take care of her as one of his own.

  He rubbed a hand across his face and looked out the window. He wished he’d awakened earlier so he could have seen the aerial view of the state where he’d grown up, buried his mother, lived as a junkie, become a successful monster illustrator and then met Shara Wellington for a second time.