Hair, Greg - Werewolf 01, page 7
“But,” Jamie interjected, “you said that they do have an effect, just not what I thought.”
“That’s right. They have the same kind of effect on us that alcohol has on our human bodies—intoxication.” Landon noted the disbelief in Jamie’s eyes.
“You mean we get drunk on the full moon?” Jamie asked, almost laughing.
“In a way. We lose our inhibitions somewhat, and can get a little clumsy. You know, we’re able to exist because we’re myth. People don’t believe in us, so we’re able to move about. Yet many myths are planted with a seed of truth. It’s the same with the full moon. You know that the moon has an effect on the tides, right?”
LillyAnna nodded. Jamie sat unmoving, his arms crossed.
“Our bodies contain a lot of water. Mine about sixty percent and hers, around fifty-five percent. Everyone thinks that it’s a myth about people acting a little crazier or the capacity of hospital emergency rooms increasing during full moons. It’s not. It has an effect on our bodies. Even in werewolf form, our bodies are so much water, but the effect is different. Our chemical composition changes to a degree, therefore the effect is different. Understand?”
“Ah, this is a bunch of bull,” said Jamie.
Landon looked at him seriously and said, “Really. You’re a werewolf sitting on a private plane flying to Europe. I think you can open your mind a little with this.”
“But how do you know all of that? Did your friends teach it to you? What happened after you left Louisville? How did you get to Europe?” asked LillyAnna, not stopping for a breath.
“Sorry, I forgot that’s where I was going. So I made my way across the US, working odd jobs, staying in seedy motels if I was lucky, sometimes staying on park benches. That lasted about ten years. Eventually, I ended up in New York City, working as a short-order cook at a diner. That’s when I met Paige.” He watched LillyAnna for any disapproving looks, but when he saw there were none, he continued. “She was a waitress in a diner, and we started talking. We eventually tried living together for a little while, but I couldn’t handle it. It had been some time since a change had occurred, but I felt I was pushing my luck. So I left and never went back, never contacted her. That was five years ago. That’s when I went to Europe.”
Landon looked out the window and saw the Atlantic Ocean come into view. It was night, but the clear sky allowed for the reflection of the full moon. LillyAnna reached over and placed her hand on Landon’s. Jamie watched.
“When we land, we’ll have a little drive ahead of us, through the German countryside,” he said. Landon noticed his companions staring at him. He cleared his throat and picked up where he left off.
“I went to Europe looking for answers. I wanted to know if there were others like me and why I was like this. My last name is Murphy, so I naturally started in Ireland, my father’s birth country. I lived in Ireland like I had in so many places back home, on the streets, in the countryside, moving from town to town. Finally, after about a month, I found another of my kind, named Finian. Actually, he found me after hearing about some American going around asking about werewolves. He knew who I was because he knew my father and grandfather. He took me to his family’s home in County Limerick. It turned out that my ancestor’s home was about a mile away from his, and that I came from a long line of Irish werewolves.”
Landon’s view strayed out the window again, as if looking for that greenest of islands.
“Finian’s house was like one of those idyllic, romantic cottages with a thatched roof, like you stepped back in time. His wife and three kids were there when I arrived. Two girls, around the age of ten or so, Moira and Kennedy, and a seventeen-year-old son named Lennon. Actually, my time spent with Finian was the only time I’ve come across any kind of feud between werewolves. It seems that even werewolves can harbor ill feelings toward each other, depending on nationality.
“Finian had been part of the Easter Rising of nineteen sixteen; it turns out that Irish werewolves don’t much care for the English ones—and vice versa. In fact, he invited me to go out hunting with him one night, saying that he could smell English werewolves nearby, but I declined. I’m not much into all that. Werewolves are werewolves, and people are people, you know?”
He continued, “Anyway, Finian explained that there are two ways to become one of us: when a human is bitten by a werewolf, or if the gene is passed on to the offspring by the father. A son or daughter can receive the gene and later turn, but when the girl grows up to have children, if the father of those children is not a werewolf, the children won’t be. It’s only passed by the father. Anyway, that gene then lies dormant until the hormones become balanced. At that point, there’s only one thing that can awaken it: when a real danger to life exists. When someone is in a fight, flight, or fright situation, and that person’s adrenaline is pumping like never before, that’s when it’s activated. I know, LillyAnna, that you were attacked awhile back, and that’s how you received it. What about you, Jamie?”
“I think it was through my father,” Jamie said. “I don’t remember ever being bitten.”
“Where’s your father now?” asked LillyAnna.
“He died before I was born. Attacked by an animal is what my mother told me,” he answered.
“Possibly another werewolf,” said Landon. “Did she mention if he had any enemies?”
“No, she didn’t. The man I thought was my father, who turned out be my stepdad, hit me and my mom a lot. I ended up killing him, and her, during my first change. I didn’t mean to; I just had no control.”
Everyone sat quietly, waiting for someone else to make the next move.
“So Ireland is where you found what you were looking for?” asked Jamie, changing the subject and wiping away the tears.
“No,” said Landon, picking up on Jamie’s cue. “Like I said, I’m part of a long Irish line, but that line began elsewhere. Finian said that he had forgotten where exactly our specific branch began, but that there were offshoots in Russia and Germany. So I thanked him for his hospitality and set off for Russia.”
Landon suddenly felt the lack of sleep over the past couple of days weigh heavily on him. He knew what it was like, however, to crave answers, and his guests were hungry for more. He continued feeding their appetite.
“I was concerned on my way to Moscow that I’d have a difficult time with the language barrier. I only speak English. Vampires are much better with linguistics than most werewolves.”
He saw their eyes immediately widen. “Vampires?” they said in unison.
“You didn’t think one was going to exist without the other, did you? Vampires, and other werewolves, that’s who we’re going to see. And no, there’s no bad blood between the two groups just because they’re different species. If there’s a fight between a werewolf and a vampire, it isn’t because they detest what the other is, but rather that they just don’t like each other. I’ll get back to them, though.
“When I reached Moscow, I drifted, just like in Ireland. When you’re moving from place to place, trying to track something down, you follow leads. Some are good leads, and some aren’t. Eventually I ended up in the western border of the country, ending in a little village called Kursk. Another dead end—or so I thought. It didn’t take quite as long for one of the Russian werewolves to find me. Word about strange foreigners asking about werewolves travels faster in small towns and their local taverns. I figured they would all think I was crazy, but I wasn’t left with much of a choice.”
Suddenly a voice came over the intercom, breaking the flow of Landon’s tale. “No storms reported over the Atlantic or Western Europe, Mr. Murphy. Should be a smooth flight.”
Landon touched a button located on a pad on the wall. “Understood, thank you.”
“Where was I?” he asked his listeners.
“Kursk,” LillyAnna replied.
“Right. So I’m at a local tavern, and I’m asking about werewolves and making a fool of myself because no one in a little bar in Kursk speaks English—I had to play Charades to tell people what I was looking for, and then they would just burst into laughter—when this hulking Russian, who looked to be about thirty, comes up. He says something in Russian, and everyone in the place starts scrambling for the door. In a few seconds I’m the only one in there. Me and this big Russian…”
“Why are you asking about werewolves?” asked the Russian.
“So someone here does speak English. I’m Landon,” Landon said, extending his hand.
The Russian, smiling, took Landon’s hand and said, “You’re not welcome here.”
The Russian clamped down on Landon’s hand and, lifting him, tossed the American across the bar. Landon crashed through a makeshift shrine dedicated to the former Soviet Union at the other end of the tavern.
“If it’s a werewolf you’re looking for, you found one,” said the Russian, slipping away from his human skin.
“This is not what I wanted,” said Landon. “I’m only looking for answers. I only want to talk.”
The large yellow werewolf paid no attention, quickly launching into his attack. Landon became the werewolf, and the two creatures met in the center of the bar.
The Russian werewolf picked up Landon, body slamming him through the bar to the floor. There were now two bars in the one tavern. Landon stabbed the attacker’s shin with the claws on his foot, the larger wolf letting out a piercing howl.
Landon jumped up, swiped at the Russian’s stomach, leaving three long gashes, and pushed him back into the antiquated jukebox. Immediately, a warbled version of the Soviet National Anthem began playing.
Landon stood back as the Russian werewolf rose slowly, almost in a patriotic stance, his red eyes bright as the sun. If werewolves could speak, it was here that one would have heard Landon say, “Oh, shit.”
The yellow wolf, nearly completely erect, walked slowly toward Landon and, with a powerful forward kick, ejected Landon out the back of the building. Exiting through the large hole, the Russian found Landon lying on the ground. As he approached, Landon wobbled to his feet and stood there, waiting for another hit. The Russian werewolf stopped and changed.
“You cannot beat me, yet you prepare yourself for more. I admire your courage. Come, have a drink with me.”
Landon, exhausted, dropped to his knees and reverted back to human form.
“I had to drink some vodka with him,” said Landon, continuing to LillyAnna and Jamie. “He could have killed me. So I thought, Okay, I can handle a shot of vodka. Well, he didn’t mean a shot; he meant the whole damn bottle.
“Two hours later, I was stumbling down the street drunk and following this huge Russian that I had just met, named Vladimir, to his house. When I got there, I met his beautiful wife, Natalia. She had some of the darkest hair I’ve ever seen, and her Russian accent was simply hypnotic. She then offered me more vodka, which I felt compelled to drink, and she then left Vladimir and me alone. Honestly, Russian women are some of the most incredible in the world. Anyway, he built a fire and told me I could stay the night. As we warmed ourselves, he told me pretty much the same information that Finian had.
“We are part of a specific branch of werewolves that began in central Europe,” began Vladimir, “but that is all I know. I do, however, know where to find the answers you seek. You can find them in Germany, though I forget the exact place.” Vladimir swayed slightly from all the vodka he’d been consuming.
“I was in World War II at the Battle of Kursk,” he said. “That was the largest tank battle of the war. I was separated from my unit in the woods when I was suddenly surrounded by a bunch of damn Nazis. Then the damndest thing happened; they turned into werewolves. Can you believe it? Hitler had a bunch of damn Nazi werewolves. So what did I do, my American friend?” he asked, leaning closer to Landon. “I killed them all.”
“And that’s when I passed out,” said Landon, looking back out over the Atlantic. “The next morning I got up, thanked him for his hospitality, and left for Germany.”
He grew more tired.
“So I journeyed to Germany, and in an effort to speed up the process, this time I traveled as the wolf. Consequently, not long after crossing the border, another werewolf found me. He saw me in the woods and approached slowly. I was sure something bad was about to happen until he suddenly transformed. Since he no longer seemed a threat, I did the same. Turned out his name was Brian, he was American, and he had a car parked on a nearby road with clothes. He told me that he was sent there to retrieve me; that I was among friends. He didn’t say much more during the ride. It wasn’t long before we reached Burghausen Castle in Bavaria.”
Landon continued, “The castle is beautiful, a medieval fortress sitting atop a hill. As I entered the door and walked into the great hall, I was met by my now best friend, Ryker. He was joined by his wife, Annelise. They were my introduction to vampires. I was led down the hall and into a large room with two oak thrones, flanked on each side by a semicircle of smaller seats. No one but us was present. I was told that room was called the Chamber.
“Then I was shown out a side door and into a smaller room with several soft chairs and a fireplace, which was already going. That’s when my hosts sat me down, and Ryker explained that he knew who I was because I was expected by the head werewolf. And I do mean the werewolf. Not the first, no one knows who the first was, but the current leader. Don’t worry. You’ll meet him. Finally, I learned the history of my line.
“I’m one of the most recent descendents of Thiess. He lived in the late seventeenth century in Livonia, which was broken up into present-day Latvia and Estonia. Thiess believed that he was created by God to be a werewolf, and to use his power to fight evil. Being his descendent, I like to believe that maybe he was right. That doesn’t mean, though, that I don’t have a choice. Everyone has a choice. I could choose to commit evil just as easily. I choose to believe, however, that Thiess was right. I also do what I do to seek redemption.”
“Redemption for what?” asked LillyAnna.
Landon looked out the window, continuing with his tale and ignoring her question.
“I remained there for about a year, training under Ryker and others. Now I hunt those who harm others and deliver them to a higher justice. And that’s most of my story.
“There’s more to tell, but it’s late and I’m tired. We need to rest. The sofas on each side of the plane pull out to become beds. I’ll take the chair.”
LillyAnna and Jamie each pulled out a sofa and lay down. Landon reclined the chair, staring out at an ocean too black to see. All three fell asleep over the Atlantic for the remainder of the flight.
11
Jerry waited at the counter of the San Antonio cutlery store for the manager to return from lunch. The doe-eyed girl behind the counter turned the pages of her magazine, Taylor Swift occasionally peeking out from the cover, giving Jerry a wink and a smile. He tried to avoid making eye contact with the teenager, yet kept looking at her to see if she were looking at him.
“Are you sure there isn’t something I can get you?” she asked. “A drink or something?”
He watched her mouth as it moved, the cherry lip gloss shining in the fluorescent light of the shop, asking if he wanted a drink while she lifted a soft drink bottle with a straw to those perfect, full lips and, so subtly and softly, drew the air out and the liquid up. He imagined other questions those lips could be asking him. Are you single? Do you live around here? Are you a virgin? Do you like cherries?
The young teen with blonde pigtails, still in her Catholic schoolgirl uniform from earlier that day, was ripe, and he could feel an instant attraction toward him as soon as he walked in the store. He knew she was into him, and he was into her. Jerry could easily picture her leaving work, taking him by the hand, and enjoying the sights and sounds of the San Antonio River Walk.
Then she’d take him back to her house, because her parents were out of town, and they’d have a little wine. Finally, she would walk backwards down the hall, pulling him along, biting her bottom lip and smiling so flirtatiously, Sammy Hagar’s “Your Love Is Driving Me Crazy” playing in the background. Then he would give her what she was really wanting. He’d whisper in her ear about forbidden fruit, and she’d whisper in his something about cherries not being forbidden. His hands would slide down her inner thigh, grasping her panties—
“Hello?” she said. “Are you okay?”
“I’m sorry, Mandy,” he said, snapping back to reality, reading her nametag through his thick black coke-bottle glasses. “I was thinking about something else. No, thank you, I’m fine. Are you sure the manager will be back soon?”
“I’m pretty sure. My dad doesn’t like to leave me at the store alone for too long.”
“Your dad?” asked Jerry with a surprised look. “He’s the store manager?”
“He’s the owner,” said Mandy, looking out the window toward the River Walk. “Here he comes now.”
The bell at the top of the shop door rang as Mandy’s dad walked through. Jerry noticed the man look at his daughter and turned around in time to see her rolling her eyes. He felt that he wasn’t exactly wanted there.
“Hi. Jim. What can I do for you?” asked Mandy’s father.
“Hello, Jim. My name’s Jerry,” he said, extending his hand, feeling a tighter than usual grip from Jim. “I’m a new traveling cutlery salesman and was wondering if you’d be interested in helping out a fellow businessman. I travel from city to city to spread the word about this wonderful, handy-dandy set of knives.” He opened a suitcase to reveal an almost complete knife set.
“You’re missing one,” said Jim, glancing down into the case, then looking up as the bell rang. In walked a young couple. “Good afternoon, folks. Looking for something in particular?”
“We just got married a few weeks ago,” said the young man, “and I was looking for some good barbecue utensils. I got a new grill as a wedding gift.”
