Aurendel - Strays

Jack was annoyed. His uninvited guest--a werewolf, of all things- -had gone off exploring on its own, in the middle of the afternoon, when anybody might spot it. Didn’t the critter have any sense? Chewing his moustache, he carefully inspected the fallen oak leaves on the ground for some kind of trail, and after consideration, decided the wolf had headed down toward the lake. It would think the shoreline easier to manage, freer of obstacles to the passage of a lamed animal.

Jack walked briskly toward the lakeside, where the soft mud would clearly show pawprints. Suspicions confirmed. He nodded to himself, then smiled grimly. The wolf wouldn’t find it so easy navigating over and around jutting cypress knees, the upthrust roots of the water-loving trees that crowded the lake’s western margins.

Jack followed what little trail there was--all right, so the animal was smart--through encroaching cattails. Looked like the water line was starting to rise up a bit, maybe the storms were doing some good after all. Speaking of which . . . Jack looked up at the sky. Maybe he had half an hour before he’d get drenched. His scowling face rivaled the dark and looming anvil cloud that was swiftly approaching from the north.

Jack kept searching. He hoped that the wolf hadn’t run across the gator hole--of course, in the heat of the day, the big reptile would be keeping cool floating in the lake. He’d have to warn the wolf against morning jaunts. It doesn’t do to disturb basking alligators on the beach, and anything the size of a large dog would look like lunch to a ten-foot long gator.

Jack mopped at the sweat pouring down his face and swatted a few mosquitos, swearing under his breath. He was closer to Kate’s place than his own, now. Maybe he should go there before the storm hit, let himself in with his key. Just as he was considering this possibility, he heard a rustling in the mixed cypress and scrub pine to his left. Startled, he turned to see the wolf approaching him, panting in the heat, shaking its head to chase away mosquitos.

“What the devil do you think you’re doing?” Jack demanded. Then he realized that in this form the wolf couldn’t very well answer him, at least not so’s he’d understand. “Never mind. Just get on back to the house.” He could’ve sworn the beast shrugged at him as it started to limp back the direction he’d come from.

As they returned to his house, Jack was surprised at how well the injured wolf could keep up the pace. They were almost there when the storm blew in. Jack had just got to the stump where the wolf had left its clothes and crutches (which Jack gathered up) when the sky opened up. Jack swore, but the wolf seemed to appreciate the relief from the heat, yipping excitedly as they both got soaked to the skin in seconds.

Once they were both on the porch, Jack opened the door and the wolf started to go in, but he halted it, saying, “Oh no you don’t. You shake off out here first, not all over my living room.” It looked slightly offended, but complied, shaking off not only water but some fur as well. Great. Not only did Jack have an injured, bored werewolf on his hands--it was shedding, too. He ruefully brushed at the black fur on his shirt, then gave it up as a lost cause. “After you,” he told the wolf, gesturing it inside and ignoring its toothy grin.

Once they were both in the house, Jack got towels and dry clothes for both of them. He’d’ve liked to have showered before changing, but only an idiot tempts the lightning gods that way, and anyhow the rain had washed off most of his sweat. Once the wolf emerged from the guest room, back on two legs--well, one and crutches, actually--dry, and dressed, Jack felt an explanation was in order.

“So,” he began as the wolf dropped onto the couch, “what did you . . .”

The wolf interrupted, bubbling with enthusiasm. “This place is amazing! There’s so many new and different scents! I can’t wait to go out at a proper time of day, just about everything was hiding from the sun, but so many birds! Big ones, too, waterfowl mostly. And all these new trees, the ones with the funny roots, and the ones with big fanlike leaves, and . . .”

“Are you crazy? Have you forgotten that there’s a reward offered for your capture?” Jack interrupted fiercely, thunderclaps punctuating his tirade. Ignoring the wolf’s silent “oh” of dismay, he continued. “There’s hunters out there beating the bushes, and you want to go exploring? What for, anyway? You can’t hunt until your leg’s healed, and if a gator or a panther came across you, you’d be wolf steak, extra rare.”

The wolf looked away. Jack could see that it was submitting to his chastisement with the best grace it could manage. When it looked back, it said, gently, “Jack, I appreciate your concern, but it really was safe. Hunters--like panthers, and gator, whatever those are--generally prefer twilight or night time to mid-afternoon. I’m not a cub. I’ve got better sense than to risk venturing out at such times until my leg’s improved.”

Well, at least there was some method to the critter’s madness. He sighed and got up. The wolf watched curiously as he left the room. When he came back he handed it an oversize hardbound book. “Here. Leaf through this before you go wandering again.”

The wolf read the title: A Guide to Florida Wildlife. It grinned. “Thanks, Jack.”

“Now, maybe you’re interested in what I found out today?” Jack asked sarcastically.

“Oh, yes!” The wolf perked up. “What news?”

“Well, I remembered right. Those two old fishermen did net a mirror in the Gulf. They took it to an antiques dealer, who couldn’t identify the style or period, but thought it was old and bought it off them.”

“Can you describe it?”

“They told me it was big, full length and then some, and heavy, too, with an elaborately carved frame. The frame had some sort of pattern like wheels on it.”

The wolf nodded. “That sounds right--a traveling mirror would have to be big enough for anyone to step through. Did you find it?”

“Not exactly.”

The wolf waited irritably for Jack to explain. Sighing, he continued, “Seems the man than bought it has gone out of town, and won’t be back til Monday.”

“I guess we wait, then.”

“I reckon.” Jack realized that the sound of rain had stopped already, and looked out the window. “Well, we’ve been shortchanged. Seems that storm had nothing better to do once it got us, so it just moved on. Leastways Kate won’t have to drive in it.”

“Oh, that’s right, she’s coming back here, isn’t she?”

Jack didn’t like the way the wolf asked that, and looked at it sharply. Ignoring his scowl, it rubbed at its chin thoughtfully and asked, “Jack, would you happen to have a spare razor I could borrow?”

Despite his misgivings, Jack got up and went to rummage through the bathroom cabinets. He used an electric razor here--gotten soft and spoiled, living in civilization--but kept a regular razor for when he went travelling. He found it and put in a fresh blade, then found a rusty can of shaving creme and set both it and the razor on the counter. He turned to get the wolf, but it was standing in the doorway, leaning on its crutches. He hadn’t even heard it approach, and that unnerved him. “Here,” Jack said, shortly.

The wolf picked up the razor and raised a quizzical eyebrow. Damn. It was probably used to old-fashioned straight razors in those kingdoms, whereever they were. “It’s a safety razor,” Jack explained. “Less apt to get cut than usin’ a straight razor.” The wolf examined it, nodded, and stepped aside to allow Jack egress.

Jack went to the kitchen, chewing his moustache thoughtfully. He started heating the oven for the potatoes, got the steaks out to assume room temperature. He didn’t like this, the wolf’s getting cleaned up for Kate’s visit. Didn’t like the implications one bit, not after the varmint asked if she was his mate. Didn’t like that he was stuck for four more days, until Tom of Tom Downey's Antiques returned. The sooner he was rid of this animal, the better.

When Kate arrived at Jack’s house, to her surprise, Harold answered the door. “Please come in, Kate,” he said, smiling, with as flourish as elaborate as he could manage around his crutches.

“Where’s Jack?” she asked.

“He’s out back, heating up the grill. Steak for dinner.”

“Mmm. Sounds good. What else?”

Harold looked nonplussed. “What more would one need?”

Kate laughed. “Once more I come prepared,” she said, waving a plastic grocery bag. “I brought salad again.” She headed for the kitchen.

“You’ll turn into a rabbit if you’re not careful.”

Kate twitched her nose rapidly and exclaimed, “Oh, no!” Harold nearly fell off his crutches laughing.

Kate set the grocery bag on the counter and her medical kit on the table. As Harold entered the kitchen just behind her, she gestured for him to take a seat. “While we’re waiting on Jack to get the grill hot, let me take a look at your ankle.”

He sat down and put his foot up on a step stool, rolling up his pants leg. “How’s it feel?” she asked. He shrugged noncommittally. Men, she thought, either babies or stoics, nothing sensibly in between.

The cuts didn’t look like they were getting infected, so Kate applied a topical anaesthetic and quickly stitched them up. Finishing, she looked up to find Jack watching. “How’s the grill?” she asked him.

“Fine,” he grunted.

She looked back at Harold. He’d sat unflinching through the sewing up, and didn’t look any worse for wear. “I brought some stronger pain medicine if you need it,” she told him.

To her surprise, he glanced at Jack, who asked him, “Ever have any bad reactions to painkillers before?”

“Hey, that’s my line,” she protested.

“Actually,” Harold answered, “I’ve never taken anything stronger than aspirin.”

“Well,” she said, bemused, “if you need anything, let me know. Now if you gentlemen will excuse me for a moment . . .” Leaving her sentence unfinished, she headed for the bathroom.

Jack was relieved. “Whew!” he sighed as he turned to the wolf. “That was close. I know aspirin’s safe for you, but no telling what human type prescription drugs would do to a wolf.”

Jack was uncomfortable throughout dinner. The wolf subtly prompted Kate into talking all about the work she did at her veterinary clinic. It seemed especially interested in the wildlife rescues she’d done. Jack tried to steer the conversation away from Kate, attempting to regale them with stories of his safaris and bringing in and training circus animals in his younger days. Kate just teased him, saying that he could monopolize the wolf during the day while she was working. When he stewed over the situation, she teased him even more, claiming he’d have no moustache left at all if he didn’t quit chewing it. The wolf’s sly looks passed unnoticed by Kate, but utterly infuriated Jack.

At last dinner was over, and Jack tried to rush Kate out the door. “Sorry, Kate. Gonna have to kick you out early. Didn’t get any work done on the book today, and George is having conniptions.”

“That’s all right. You go ahead and work. I’ll keep Harold out of your hair for a while,” she said with a smile.

This was not what Jack wanted. However, he couldn’t now insist on chaperoning the pair after claiming he had to work, not without looking a jealous fool, anyways. So with much misgiving, he retreated to his study, leaving the pair alone in the living room.

As Harold made himself comfortable on the couch, Kate walked over to an oak cabinet and opened the doors to reveal a stereo and tv. “As seldom as Jack listens to music or watches tv, it’s a wonder he’s got any of this stuff,” she remarked. “He doesn’t even have a CD player. And look, an actual turntable. He’s the only person I know that’s got one of these anymore.”

She began sorting through cassette tapes, humming softly to herself. Selecting one, she popped it into the machine to play. When she turned back toward Harold, she noticed his astonished expression and laughed. “Yeah, I know. Jack’s not the type to like Bryan Adams. It’s my tape. You don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” he replied. “This is fine.”

As the music played, they conversed off and on idly about this and that--the small doings of the small town, the vagaries of rural life, the ways of animals. Kate tried not to stare at him, or at least not conspicuously. Amazing the difference a shave makes in a man’s appearance, she thought. Now she really noticed the lines of his face. Very handsome, almost too handsome. She distrusted men who were too good looking. Too good to be true usually isn’t. He was not as tall as Jack, though quite a respectable height, and there didn’t look to be an ounce of fat on him. Unusual pale grey eyes, jet black hair, and a charming smile that revealed perfect teeth. Odd that someone who’d clearly spent a lot of time outdoors should be so fair skinned. Then again, some people simply don’t tan. She wished she could figure out what it was that gave his features a hint of the exotic. She just couldn’t place it.

As the haunting strains of classical guitar caught her ear, she said, “This is my favorite song on this album. I love that kind of guitar playing.” Harold listened to the song with the intensity of a first hearing, but that didn’t make sense: the song had been all over the radio for months when it came out.

In his office, Jack could hear the music, and it annoyed him. He just couldn’t focus, damn it. When somebody turned up the volume, that did it. He marched out to the living room to complain, but stopped in the entry, staring at the tableau presented to him.

The wolf was staring at Kate as if it were stalking prey. Kate sat on the ottoman, her eyes shut, unfallen teardrops on her lashes, softly singing the chorus of the song.

When you love a woman,
You tell her that she's really wanted.
When you love a woman,
You tell her that she's the one.
She needs somebody, to tell her that it's gonna last forever.
So tell me have you ever really ... really, really ever loved a woman?

As the last strains of the tune faded away, Jack cleared his throat loudly, satisfied by the way the two jumped at the noise. “How am I supposed to work in the middle of a concert hall?” he growled.

“Jack, you’re a curmudgeon,” Kate replied, “and you have a tin ear. But,” she added, as Jack started to protest, “I was just leaving anyway.”

“So early?” asked the wolf.

“I have work tomorrow. I’ll see you two over the weekend.” Kate rose in a single graceful movement and started for the front door.

“I’ll see you out,” Jack offered.

“No, that’s okay. Good night, Harold,” she said, then gave Jack a peck on the cheek and bid him good night as well.

Jack sighed with relief as she left. He’d decided he’d rather not wait until Monday to try to get that damn magic mirror from Downey. Turning to the wolf, he asked, “How do you feel about a little breaking and entering tonight?”