KNUD, Her Big Bad Wolf: 50 Loving States, Kansas

by Theodora Taylor

  Before either of their parents could respond, Rafes rounded on Knud. “You have some nerve coming back here without telling your family—you know, the people who raised you and put up with your bullshit for years?—that you were meeting with Uncle Grady and Qim,” he said in the angry, judgmental tone Knud remembered better than well. “What the hell were you thinking swearing Uncle Grady and Qim to secrecy AND bringing a human here on a full moon nigh—!?”

  “Are you going to marry her?” Alisha demanded, neatly cutting her indignant oldest son off just as he was getting started. “Because I really, really need you to marry her.”

  “Mom, are you kidding me with this?!” Rafes asked, turning on her with an incredulous look. “You were just crying inconsolably a few minutes ago!”

  “If you marry that woman I will forgive everything, no questions asked,” Alisha continued as if Rafes hadn’t said a word. “The last five years, all the fighting, the underage drinking, those girls you insisted on sneaking into our home…everything.”

  “I’m pretty sure she means that,” Rafe Sr. said to Knud with a knowing half-grin. “Might be your only way back in, son.”

  “I can’t believe this—” Rafes cut himself off with a curse. And Knud smirked because unlike their father, his brother Rafesson still hadn’t acclimated to the fact that the Ataneq sisters were, as Aunt Tu put it, “straight representing for Alaska cray.”

  “He can’t marry her, Mom,” Rafes said, visibly forcing himself to keep his voice level. “She’s a human. A very famous human.”

  “Okay, can someone please tell me why she’s so famous?” Knud asked, feeling pretty sure this was important information he needed to have for this conversation.

  Alisha blinked at him, then shook her head. “He’s kidding,” she assured her husband and oldest son, both of whom were staring at Knud like he might be the stupidest man in the world. “He has to be kidding.”

  “He’s not, Mom,” Rafes bit out. “Remember, we all saw his report card growing up.”

  “Oh, not all intellect is accurately measured by grades and tests and report cards. Plus, who knows what he might have achieved if he’d bothered to put in some real effort,” Alisha insisted, defending Knud like she always did and always had to his older triplet.

  “Come on, Mom. This is Knud we’re talking about here. He’s obviously only interested in what’s between that human’s legs.”

  “Hey, man! Don’t try to act like you know me,” Knud countered. Yeah, Rafes might have had a valid point a few months earlier. But not now…and not when it came to L-heart. He really cared about this particular human. To the point that his wolf had been spinning since she walked out his door last Friday. “You don’t know me now.”

  “You’re right, Knud. We don’t know what kind of changes you’ve undergone in the last five years,” Alisha agreed, before glaring at Rafes. “People change—as I discovered when my oldest son made it his life’s mission to block wolves from using the time gates. Never mind that he spent the first four years of his life—his formative years—in Viking Era Norway. And it’s because of his time with the Vikings that he began to develop resilience and the leadership skills necessary to become the President of the North American wolves. Imagine what he would have missed out on if I’d never had access to the time gates in the first place!”

  “Not this again,” Rafes raised his eyes to the sky. “I’m using the black boxes to lock down the time gates for the good of our race! And you act as if our time with the Vikings was some sort of extended four-year vacation when what really happened is you abused the time gate system with devastating repercussions—”

  Rafes suddenly stopped, probably because he knew from experience how conversations with academics rapidly wormholed into other topics if you didn’t stay vigilant. Knud himself could recall several times when what should have been a short conversation—like what to buy Dad for his birthday—turned into him listening to a long-winded diatribe about “the relatively new religion” of consumerism.

  Rafes reset and said, “People don’t change that much, Mom.”

  “Given your relatively young age, I respectfully disagree. And in any case, your brother and the human woman are most definitely dating! I can smell her scent all over him.”

  Rafes sighed in obvious frustration. “Pardon my language—which by the way, I learned from you—but fucking a human and dating a human aren’t nearly the same thing.”

  A beat of silence passed. Then Alisha turned pleading eyes to Knud and said, “Your brother is right. Look sweetie, I know you value your sexual freedom but you have got to marry this one. Please, do it for me! We’ll call it a ‘five-years worth of missed Mother’s Days’ make-up gift.”

  “Mom! He doesn’t even know who she is,” Rafes pointed out, sounding more like the parent in this conversation than his mother. “And what part of ‘she’s human’ are you not understanding?”

  “I don’t care about any of that,” Alisha said. “Nago has a child on the way with his Mississippi Queen, and now you’ve got Myrna.”

  “Wait, wait…time out,” Knud glanced from Rafes to his mom with his own incredulous look. “Nago already sealed the deal with that Mississippi she-wolf? And Myrna, Hot Valkyrie Babysitter, is your fated mate? Like she came through a time gate, the very things you are trying to shut down, for you?”

  “Don’t call her that,” Rafes bit out. As their mother eagerly jumped in with, “Knud! You should have been there. I was protesting the black box installation at the North Dakota gate when there was a flash and out popped Myrna! It was glorious! And it obviously means an end to Rafes’ black box project.”

  Knud could tell his brother was on the verge of completely losing his shit, as Rafes answered, “It obviously means nothing of the sort, Mom. And Myrna is beside the point!”

  “Is she?” Knud asked his older triplet . “Because unless I’m getting this wrong, you just got a hot Viking princess delivered to you through the very time gate system you’ve been trying to shut down for years, but here you are throwing shade on my relationship.”

  “What relationship?!?!” Rafes yelled back. “You don’t even know her name!”

  “Boys…!” their father said as if they were still teenagers as opposed to a pediatric surgeon and the President of the North American wolves.

  “No, Dad. Mom’s trying to act like Knud’s changed…but look at him! He hasn’t learned anything. He’s still a total fuck-up. How can you not see that?”

  “A total fuck-up,” Knud repeated, his voice low and dangerous. “You didn’t seem to think I was a fuck up when I was running the black ops that earned you your presidency.”

  “You’re right,” Rafes spat back, his face little more than a snarl. “You were useful to me for about five whole seconds and then you went and fucked that up, too!”

  Knud could have calmly explained that by leaving black ops he’d actually unfucked his life. Made something of himself. That despite the bad grades he’d earned in school, he’d managed to become a doctor. A surgeon, in fact. As opposed to his brother’s personal attack dog.

  He could have said all of that.

  But he didn’t.

  Because the anger showed up, red, all-consuming, vicious and dumb. And before reason even had a chance to open its mouth, Knud shot out a hand and grabbed his brother by the throat.

  23

  “What are you doing? Shimmer? Shimmer! What are you doing?”

  Jared sounds alarmed, even more so than when we walked down the rather ominous gravel path with NO TRESPASSING signs tacked to every other tree. If I were to warrant a guess, I’d say he’s less than comfortable with the fact that I’m currently picking the lock on the front door of Qim’s Wulfkonig’s home in the Kukunniwi Woods.

  His home, as it turns out despite the plaque on the door declaring it the “Founder’s Cabin,” is more a ski chalet-level mansion with several summer camp-style cabins in back. Definitely not the little country cottage I’d been imag
ining when Grace found the address but no pictures or Google Earth-images of Wulfkonig’s Kansas property.

  At least the lock on the door is decidedly old fashioned and therefore easy to pick. Which means one thing is going my way…

  Five minutes after asking Santiago for one of the bobby pins from his samurai knot, I’m inside—with a silent thank you to my cousin Pavel for teaching me the art of lock picking at his place in Indiana that one summer.

  I find exactly what I expect after breaking into a luxury cabin: a massive front room that extends all the way to the rear of the house, and large windows framing a stunning view of a small mountain beyond. There’s wood everywhere. The floors, the walls, the ceilings, and much of the furniture. But the wood is from a variety of trees—pine, oak, cherry, birch—and the different shades along with the bold leather furniture and a floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace keep the place from feeling like the inside of a giant wooden box.

  Santiago immediately fans out to search the rest of the house while Jared stands guard beside me in the middle of the room.

  He gives the room a long look and whistles. “Nice place. Wonder what type of wood this is?”

  “Mostly pine, and a few others,” I answer automatically.

  “How can you tell?” he asks, throwing me a curious frown. No doubt I’m one of the last persons he’d expect to be able to identify wood on sight. And now that I think of it, he’s right. Nevertheless…

  “You can’t smell it?”

  He frowns, inhaling deeply through his nose. “Nope. Just smells like a closed-up cabin to me.”

  My nose isn’t having nearly the same vague experience. I can smell everything. In fact, my nose easily picks out a huge number of scents as if they’ve been neatly arranged. Leather, pinewood, stone, dust, and something dog-like—but not quite. This scent is sharper—rich and woodsy—and not nearly as offensive as that of wet dog. In fact, it smells…

  I inhale again. Right. It smells right.

  Kindred, the strange new voice whispers inside of me.

  The scent is also stale. Which means the cabin is empty. I know this even before Santiago returns to give the all-clear. And I get the sense I’ve arrived too late for…something. But I don’t know what that something is.

  “This place kicking up your allergies, too?” Jared asks me with a sympathetic look.

  That’s when I realize how all my sniffing must sound to the others. “Yes,” I answer even though I know that’s not the problem. “Forgive me for not simply making use of a tissue.” It’s easier to blame non-existent allergies than to admit I’m investigating the place with my nose. I can only imagine how fast the two men would bundle me into the car for a one-way trip straight back to Texas if I start telling them about my new and improved sense of smell.

  “So…can I ask why we came here?” Jared asks with another curious frown. He’s obviously fishing for answers to the follow-up questions Dad will surely ask him when we get back.

  And that reminds me of the constant supervision I’m under. Which makes me grind my teeth behind the gentle perma-smile I was trained to keep on my face at all times as the new voice whispers, Cage…cage…inside of me.

  It’s not Jared’s fault he’s been hired to keep an eye on me like I’m a wayward child, I remind the voice. And instead of showing my annoyance I say, “We’re near the Oklahoma state border, right?”

  Jared’s eyes go up in a way that lets me know he’s consulting his bioware. “Yes, that’s right. Just above the panhandle. Why?”

  With one last glance around the empty room I say, “Let’s get some barbecue for lunch.”

  24

  Kukunniwi Woods

  So this was how Cain must have felt.

  Because inside the red haze, Knud wasn’t the prodigal son. Not the bad guy turned good that his mother wanted him to be. There would be no Saul-to-Paul happy ending conversion here.

  Just the red anger. Just him crushing his brother’s windpipe until he finally stopped talking.

  The wolf pawed at Knud. Trying to get him to shift, to come back to reason.

  But civilian nearby. First rule of Wolf Force…don’t shift. Don’t shift.

  Civilian nearby. Don’t shift. Civilian…civilian…L-heart….L-heart was nearby.

  The red wavered.

  And an image floated into his mind: L-heart with her fists raised, fully prepared to fight him to the bitter end, but still calling out to him, hoping to get through.

  And suddenly the world was back.

  His father held on to his arm, while his mom bent over to see to Rafes. Who was now in a besuited heap on the ground.

  It didn’t take long for Knud to put two and two together. His father had both hands around his arm, because he’d been trying to pull him off the brother he’d had in a literal death grip. But then restraining Knud no longer became necessary because Knud abruptly dropped Rafes. As if he’d taught his brother a lesson and didn’t need to pursue things any further.

  “Are you all right?” their mother asked Rafes who was still on the ground.

  “I’m fine,” Rafes insisted, knocking away her hands and slowly pushing himself to a stand.

  He rolled his neck, as if to expel the memory of Knud’s crushing hand around it. Then he said to Knud, “You. Need. To. Leave. Now.”

  “Rafes…” Alisha started.

  “Stop talking,” Rafes said to their mother. “Everyone stop talking.”

  But Knud shook his head. “No, Mom, he’s right. I need to leave. This is why I stayed away. This is why I can’t…be with her like that. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt her. But she’s fragile and I…I destroy everything I touch. And Rafes, man, I’m…”

  He looked straight at Rafes, opening his mouth to apologize to his brother for the first time in quite possibly ever. But instead of letting him speak, Rafes shook his head and said, “No, don’t say another word. Just stop talking. Right now.”

  And that’s when he smelled her.

  “You think I’m fragile?”

  Knud turned and found L-heart standing behind him, the smile she’d been wearing all morning for Jandro’s sake, completely gone. “You pushed me away because you think I’m fragile?”

  “L-heart…” he started.

  “Are you aware I came out here to pull you off your brother?” she asked. “I can think of at least five different ways to neutralize you, and that’s just off the top of my head without consulting my training tapes. You cannot physically hurt me.”

  But she didn’t get it. “I can hurt you. What happened last Friday…”

  “What happened last Friday hurt me because you pushed me away. Because you refused to talk with me, be honest with me, or treat me like I was more than some one-night-stand you let stick around too long…”

  “You don’t understand. I’ve got a mood disorder. Not talking about it, not feeling too much or getting too close is the only way to manage it.”

  L-heart just stared at him, shaking her head.

  But his mom came over and place a hand on his arm. “Oh, Knud. Is that really what you think? That not allowing yourself to feel…closing yourself off from everyone is the only way to manage your disorder?”

  “Mom, it’s not something I think—it’s something I know. You guys were the most loving parents I could ask for and I still turned out all fucked up.”

  “No, no,” his mom insisted. “That’s not true.”

  “It is true,” he insisted right back. Then he returned his gaze to L-heart. “And I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted things to stop the way they did. But I didn’t know how else to end it.”

  “Why did you have to end it at all?” she demanded as if he was the biggest idiot in the universe. “And just when things were getting really good?”

  Had she not heard a word he’d said? “Why? Because I’ve got issues. Serious issues.”

  She stared at him for a beat, then said, “I know you have issues, Knud. I’ve g
ot them, too.”

  He shook his head. “Mine are obviously a shit-ton bigger than yours.”

  She laughed. Actually laughed like he, not she, was the naïve one in their duo. “Oh, no they’re not.”

  “Try never being able to have a genuine response to anything or anyone because you’re afraid it will end up on social media and reflect badly on your family’s brand. Try having absolutely no private life or never being able to get a good sense of whether people like you for you, or just because of who your mom is.”

  She made a dismissive sound. “You’re upset because your mom is trying to get you to propose to me. But try finding out the first boyfriend you thought you might be okay with marrying someday, was vetted and literally interviewed by your father.”

  Knud glanced to the side before saying, “Actually that’s pretty common in our community…” But then a new question occurred to him. “Wait, how did you know my mom was trying to get me to marry you?”

  “Because all black moms try to get their sons to marry me. That’s just what they do. Even though I talk too much and interrupt and am kind of a know-it-all and a tad eccentric.”

  “A tad…” Knud repeated.

  Suddenly her face fell, as if he’d hit her, and actually landed the punch. “See, that’s it…” she said with a sad laugh. “That right there is why I liked you. You kept it real with me from the start. You called me out. And looked at me like I was crazy.”

  “No one’s ever looked at you like you were crazy?” he said, tone incredulous.

  “No,” she answered with a totally straight expression. “At least not directly to my face.”

  “Okay, who are you that—?” he began.

  She huffed. “Knud, shut up. Just let me talk, okay?”

  He did. The use of his real name and her unprecedented rudeness startling him into silence.

  She sighed. “You were right about me, you know. I’m always thinking, always watching myself. I’ve spent so much of my life trying to figure out exactly how I should act and speak that I never learned how to just be myself. I don’t even have a concept of self. Only brand. It’s like before you, my whole life had been Photoshopped and I couldn’t even tell what was real.”