Chapter Six

Harold found a chair near the boarding gate for his flight to Seattle and slumped into it.  He was relieved there were no fellow Ulfhednar in the airport, as he was sure his stench of dejection must have been awful.   The meeting with Osmund had brought up and locked in the idea his mission was nothing more than a ploy to get him out of the way of everyone and everything.  All he had to look forward to was roaming the woods of the northwest of the USA and hoping for invitations to the annual games in Scotland.   

Looking back he realized he should have seen this coming.  Not being able to integrate into a pack fully put him at risk of being discharged from a Jarl’s Fyrd.   Frequent reprimands added to that.  Disobeying a direct order, one that had put his pack and pack leader in jeopardy had left Jarl Cenric and his council no choice but to court martial him. He knew he could go into the family business and work with his brother and parents raising sheep, but that wasn’t an option Harold wanted to follow up on.  After 70 years of being a warrior, with many kills to his name and several commendations and awards, (granted, none related to teamwork) working the land would feel limiting and embarrassing.  Better to wander the wilderness alone, looking for a mythical clan of Ulfhednar and “enlightened” draugar.    

Looking around the other passengers waiting for the flight he noticed there were four infants with their parents.  The smell of babies was always a pleasant one, but Harold’s mood prevented his usual enjoyment.  Instead, he started thinking of how the confined airplane would smell of four soiled diapers, even in first class.  One or two wouldn’t be so bad, but four would too much on such a long flight.  

“Wonderful.” Harold muttered to himself.  

“Attention passengers on Alaska Airways flight 354.  We are overbooked for this flight, if there is anyone who is able to reschedule their flight for a later one we can offer vouchers for an upgrade on a later flight or vouchers for free flights at a later date.” The gate steward looked around hopefully but no one moved in the direction of the desk.  Harold looked at one of the mothers feeding her baby mushy green peas and got up.   

“Excuse me, what else do you have besides upgrades or free flights?”  The gate steward smiled in relief and brought out a packet of vouchers.  

“I have a free night at any Hyatt-Regency or Marriot in the continental USA.  Or a $100 American Express card.”

Harold didn’t think where he was headed had anything better than the Hotel 6 style motels he’d stayed last time he was in the USA.  “I’ll take the American Express card.  When is the flight I’ll be taking?”

“This evening at 7PM sir.  Would you like a voucher to buy dinner while you’re waiting?” Despite his mood Harold couldn’t help smiling at her generosity.   

“Yes thank you.” Taking the card and voucher, Harold walked to the nearest souvenir shop and bought $100 worth of T-shirts, and hats to send to his nephews.  

By the time he boarded the plane Harold was feeling a little better.  A half decent steak and a couple of ales usually did that for him.  Putting his satchel in the overhead, Harold sat down in the last aisle side chair of first class and closed his eyes.  A businessman said “Excuse me” and indicated the window seat next to him so Harold got back up and let him in.  Sitting down again Harold closed his eyes once more and let the sound and smells of the passengers drift through his senses. Businessmen and women, some with aftershave, some with cologne or perfume, some nervous, some with pheromones smelling of exhaustion, confidence and elation. Parents, children, smelling of anxious, annoyed or frustrated pheromones.  And one baby with a full diaper.  Harold smiled to himself, one was better than four.    

It was a game to him to pick out one sound or smell and focus on it, analyze it, extrapolate from it.  There, a smell of something on a man’s breathe, clothes and pheromones in the first class section with him. Something in the man’s body was wrong, ulcer?  No, cancer.  Lung cancer.  The smell of tobacco on his clothes was weak and old, so he was an ex-smoker.  The tumor must be small, perhaps not yet noticed.   Harold opened his eyes and looked down the aisle at the businessman.  Harold briefly considered telling the man he should see a doctor, but Harold could see he was well dressed, his watch and cologne smelled expensive, his glasses were designer.  This was someone with wealth who would have good health insurance.   A half decent medical professional would be able to figure out the businessman had lung cancer in time.  

Harold closed his eyes again to smell and listen to the last passengers boarding the plane.   A smell reached through all the other smells and Harold tensed up a little but quickly restored his relaxed demeanor.  The smell was coming from the first seat of first class, the flow of air was from the front of the plane to the back, so Harold was downwind.  Opening his eyes and with a practiced bored look on his face, Harold looked down the aisle briefly.  A female draug was putting her travel bag in the overhead storage.  Sitting back and closing his eyes once more, Harold focused on her smells and sounds.  The distinct smell of ceramic was not old, perhaps 60-70 years only.  His brief look at the draugr gave the impression of a woman in her late 20’s or early 30’s.  Like all female draugar her skin was flawless and nearly porcelain in colour. Her hair was not quite shoulder length, straight and naturally light brown. She was wearing brand new expensive jeans, hiking boots which also smelled and sounded new and a snug V-neck T-shirt, also recently purchased.  In her pocket was a smart phone and in her wallet the smell of cash that had rarely been handled.  The bag she had put in the overhead bin also smelled of cash, US dollars, pound notes and euros.  She had no keys, no watch, nor jewelry.  What really interested Harold was the smell of blood on her.  It wasn’t earðkin blood.  It was the smell of deer blood and recent, within the last 12 hours.  Harold felt sure she was the same draug he’d chased in Coventry.  Harold made the sign of the hammer and thought of the Norns.  Taking this later flight had put him in first class with her.  

The door to the airplane closed and the crew members started their pre-flight work.  In the confined space of the airplane it wouldn’t take long for the draug to smell Harold.  Their sense of smell wasn’t as good as an ulfhedinn’s, but close enough to a domestic dog’s which would be more than sufficient to detect Harold’s smell.    

What would she do?  Panic, ask to get off the plane, request a seat elsewhere? Harold knew neither she nor he would engage in the usual kill or be killed fight here in public.  The one unspoken, but universally obeyed law between Ulfhednar and draugar was that as two apex predators, they couldn’t let earðkinar know of their existence outside of legends and fairytales.  A very small number of earðkinar through history had been made aware of them, but that was under extreme circumstances.   

In any case, Harold wanted to talk with this draug.  His curiosity regarding why she smelled of deer blood and the need to ascertain whether or not her travel plans aligned with his own precluded just killing her first chance he had.  

Harold watched her for a while as the plane backed out from the gate.  She tensed up and then forced herself to relax, much like he’d done.  Slowly turning her head she looked in Harold’s direction.  As they made eye contact Harold smiled slightly and gave a small nod of his head.  He had hoped he looked non-threatening, but she snapped her head back and sat with her shoulders, arms and death grip on the arm rests displaying her severe tension.  Which was odd.  Normally a draug would have glared at him, even a young one like her.  Not for the first time, Harold wished draug emitted pheromones like all other animals on the planet.   

The flight would take them through the night, at some point everyone would be asleep but her, and he could stay awake as needed.  When he was sure everyone was fast asleep he’d take the opportunity to talk with her.  Harold smiled at the idea, talking with a draug is not something he’d done before.  All he’d ever done with them was trade threats and interrogate them.  This would be interesting.  

Eventually everyone fell asleep and the flight crew was occupied with their work.  Getting up quietly Harold walked to the draug’s chair and turned to face her.  Her skin was almost porcelain perfect, light blue eyes like all draug and her hair shined like a hair product models’.  An earðkin male would find himself mesmerized by her looks.  Harold was used to seeing draug beauty, male and female, and knew that it was a lure for their prey.  He crouched down so he could look eye to eye with her and keep his voice low, and introduced himself. “Good evening, I’m Harold Sigbert.”  The draug just stared at him and recoiled into her chair a little more.  This was definitely not typical draug behaviour.  “I’ve no plans to cause you harm, and in fact we may find that our plans are in alignment.”  This changed the draug’s expression and body language.  “Sorry, what?” With a look of disbelief and surprise on her face she leaned closer to Harold to keep her voice quiet.  Harold thought she almost looked curious.  

“We are both flying to Seattle and I’m tasked with finding a guild of draugar that have apparently renounced the taking of earðkin life and drinking of their blood.  Something I thought was a wild goose chase.  Until I smelled you and realized the smell of blood on you was from a deer.  It seems likely that you are looking for the same thing I am.”  Harold saw no reason to mention the other half of his mission.  

“Go away, leave me alone.” She whispered and glared at Harold in what he thought was an amusing attempt at to look fierce.  Her response was not unexpected.  He was a hunter and killer of her kind.  

“Very well, we can speak later.” Harold smiled politely and returned to his chair to take a nap.  He felt a lot better about his mission now and was confident he’d smell or hear her approach if she was reckless enough to try to kill him.   

The slow descent of the plane and change in pressure woke Harold up.  Looking down the aisle he saw the draug, she looked back at him and then quickly turned away.  Standing up, Harold retrieved his satchel from the overhead bin and put it on the floor in front of him.  The draug did the same with her travel bag.  Both were planning a quick exit from the plan.  Moving quietly, Harold retrieved his toilet kit and laptop.  They were bulkier and heavier than normal versions.  Checking to make sure the businessman next to him was still sleeping, Harold began dismantling parts of his electric razor, toothbrush and laptop and began assembling a device that resembled a gun.  It was his standard issue Taser designed to get through security.  His field Taser, guns, knives, handcuffs and other equipment was in his kit bag which he’d pick up at the luggage carousal.  Putting the little Taser in his jacket pocket, Harold stored everything back in his satchel and put it back under the chair in front of him.  He hoped the draug had heard him and knew what he had been doing.  It would make the conversation later much easier.   The Taser only had power for three shocks, but each one was strong enough to incapacitate a draug for ten minutes or more, severely dehydrating them in the process.  This would make them weaker, but also more desperate.  Something to consider if he had to use it in a public place.  

The plane landed and taxied to the terminal.  As soon as the stewards indicated it was time to disembark the draug was on her feet, travel bag in hand.  A couple of other people stood up and Harold followed suite.  Trailing behind her into the airport he quickly drew up next to her, “I have a Taser with me that will put you into a coma,” lying to a draug wasn’t considered a violation of the ethics Harold lived by, “walk with me to the bar over here and sit down across from me in a booth.” The draug didn’t look at Harold, just changed direction with him to the tavern.   

Sitting down Harold leaned in close and spoke firmly but softly, “I honestly mean you no harm, but I will kill you if you leave me no other option.  Not here of course, but I will.  Now, tell me honestly, why do you smell of deer blood?”  

The draugr looked at Harold with an expression that seemed a little surprised and said with a tone of defiance, “Because that’s what I drink.”

Harold controlled his impulse to smile and kept his expression as stern as he could manage. “Why?” he asked.  

The waitress came over with menu’s and asked if they wanted anything to drink to start with.  Harold looked up at her, “Just an ale for me.  Whatever local brew you have on tap.” American ales were not amongst Harold’s favourites but he could often find local breweries producing something that was interesting if nothing else.  The waitress smiled warmly at Josephine and asked if she wanted anything.  She just shook her head and curtly replied “No.” The waitress left still smiling.  

Looking back at Harold, the draug lowered her voice, “Because I can’t stand killing, I can’t stand biting into a person’s neck and ending their life, I can’t stand… I just drink animal blood.  There’s lots of them around and it’s easier to get away with.  And yes, I am looking for the ‘draugar’, as you call us, who feel the same as I do. You going to kill us all?”  

Harold was taken aback by her confession and the vehement passion she said it with.  He normally had no problems knowing what to say, but in this case he was at a loss for words.  Harold wished he could see the threads of Wyrd that had brought the two of them together and wondered if the Norns and gods were smiling at their handiwork.    

The waitress arrived with his ale and Harold was happy to take the time to sip and think about his situation.   The draug sat motionless staring at Harold.  The utter lack of emotional clues on her face would make a champion poker player envious.  Harold did his best to emulate her, but knew he couldn’t match her.  Thinking things over, Harold decided she could be a gold mine of information.  Not just about the mission he was on, but draugar in general.  Perhaps the three sisters were being kind to him after all.   

Harold looked at his ale and took a sip, it had a light body, clean flavour and a nice reddish-gold colour.  He gave up on the attempt to match her facial control and smiled.  

Looking back at the draug Harold shook his head, “No, I’m not going to kill you, or them, so long as you kill no earðkinar.  If you like I will swear on the All-Father and my ancestors to that effect if it will mollify your concerns.” He meant it.  Of course that didn’t mean someone from Jarl Osmund’s Fyrd would be bound by the same oath.  

The draug let a puzzled look emerge from her mask of self-control, “What’s an ‘earthkin’?” Harold smiled even more, of course she wouldn’t understand him, when would a draug and an ulfhedinn ever sit together and talk to find out this much about each other? “Earðkinar are humans.  Earðkin is singular.  Human.”  

She smiled a patronizing smile, “You dogs and your ancient language and infidel superstitions. Yes, swear to your gods and ancestors!”  Harold let the insults pass without comment.  

Pulling his amulet of Mjölnir from his shirt, Harold clasped it in his hand looked up and said, “In the name of Oðinn, All-Father, and my ancestors, I swear I will not kill,” Harold looked at the draug questioningly.  In a voice barely above a whisper she answered, “Josephine, Josephine Wilson”.  Harold continued, “I swear I will not kill Josephine Wilson or any draug she associates with who have renounced the taking of earðkin life and do not kill earðkinar.  I also swear I will kill Josephine Wilson or any draug she associates with that do take earðkin life.”  Harold looked at Josephine and said, “That last part is a given, but I thought I should mention it just in case you’re not clear about it.  Fair enough?” Harold was still smiling in an effort to seem pleasant despite his threat.   

Josephine relaxed a little but her eyes belied her suspicion, “Yes, I suppose that’s only fair.  Are you really looking for a guild of Reformed vampires?”  Harold’s smile diminished a little.  ‘Vampires’, the word draugar used to describe themselves and earðkinar used to describe a romanticized version of what her kind were.  He wondered about the way she said ‘reformed’.  Like it was a title.  

“Yes.  I am.” Harold leaned back a little and did his best to look relaxed, “As we now have the start of an understanding between us, I suggest we get our luggage and then find someplace where we can discuss details.  Some place public yet hard for others to over hear us would be best.  What do you say?”  

Harold could see her self-control re-establish.  Josephine sat perfectly still, not even faking the inhalation and exhalation of air.  Her hands on the table looked like perfectly manicured artificial hands.  Finally she inhaled and grinned, “I have no luggage other than my travel bag.   We can go to… I think its called South Center or Westfield?  It’s a shopping mall near the airport and will have food court we can sit at.  I can buy the things I need and we can talk there.”  Harold smiled back, “Agreed.” Harold gulped his ale down and put $10 dollars on the table next to the glass.  “Shall we?”  

The two walked down to the luggage claim carousel and waited around for a few minutes until the luggage started coming out and going around the carousel.  Harold looked sideways at Josephine.  He wondered what was going through her mind before she agreed to his proposal.  Most likely the same thing he was thinking.  Her mission was the same as his.  She needed information from him the same way he needed information from her.  

Harold saw his kit bag.  It was larger than other luggage pieces and nearly jammed in the opening where the luggage came out.  It was an olive green colour and heavier than it seemed.  Much of the equipment he had in the kit bag was in cases that tricked any x-rays or explosive sniffing dogs into appearing like something else.  He grabbed it and looped his arms through the straps and shrugged his shoulders to adjust the weight on his back.  

“Judging by the fact that you have no luggage, I’m guessing you didn’t reserve a rental car.”  

“No, and judging by your oversized luggage I’m guessing you did.” She spoke with a snide tone, but Harold smiled, she was relaxing more and even displayed a sense of humour.  A biting sense of humour.  

“Yes, I did. Come on.” They walked to the rental car shuttle area and caught the next shuttle to the rental car facility.  Walking up to the desk Harold identified himself and gave the desk attendant his credit card.  A little while later the attendant came back with paperwork and keys.   

He smiled at Josephine while talking to Harold, “Mr. Smith, your Cadillac Escalade is ready.  I’ll walk you to the car and we’ll go over things.”  Harold and Josephine followed the attendant out the door to the rental cars.  It was raining a little.  Harold remembered the last time he’d been to Washington.  It had been winter time and even then the rain was more of a constant drizzle rather than a full rain.   

Josephine looked at Harold, “Mr. Smith?  Not the most original alias.  Do you use ‘John’ as a first name too?”  Harold smiled at her, yes, a biting sense of humour.   

“Yes as a matter of fact I do use ‘John’, it’s a common name and no one ever asks about it.  Depending on the country, I use the most common or non-descript name. Is Josephine your real name, or a creative alias?”   

Harold expected some sharp comeback, but Josephine just replied, “No, it’s my name.  I didn’t think to use an alias.  Perhaps I should.”  That last sentence prompted several questions in Harold’s mind but let them lie, there would be time for that later.   

The attendant went over the Escalade with Harold and then gave him the keys without looking at Harold.  His attention kept going back to Josephine.  As the attendant stood close to him, Harold drew in a deep breath through his nose.  There was the smell of another man on the attendant.  “Damn, even the gay ones.” thought Harold.   

Harold looked across the parking lot and to the street beyond.  He didn’t like driving in the USA.  He’d been driving since the 1920’s and had learned to drive on both sides of the road, but with most of his experience driving on the left side of the road, it felt odd to drive on the right.  Harold folded down the rear seats and put his kit bag in the SUV.  He saw Josephine walk around to the passenger side of the car, and quickly going around her, he opened the passenger door for her and offered his arm to help her up.  Draug or not, she was a woman and therefore good manners were to be expected of him.  Harold knew his form of manners were outdated in modern western civilization, many of his fellow Ulfhednar didn’t even follow them anymore and he expected Josephine to give him a look of someone just insulted and ignore his proffered arm.  Instead she paused a moment and put her hand on his arm and stepped into the SUV.  She didn’t look at him nor reach for the door to close it.  Instead Josephine reached for the seat belt and buckled herself in.  Harold smiled slightly and closed the door.

Harold got into the SUV and turned the key, “You have an address for this shopping mall, or

should we try to figure it out with our smart phones?”  Josephine pulled out her smartphone,

“Familiarize yourself with the car and get the GPS thing going while I look it up.” She was

businesslike and brusque.  Harold guessed she’d let down her guard a little more than she

wanted to when she accepted his help getting into the SUV.  Josephine entered an address

into the UI of the GPS and pressed ‘Go’.  A second later it displayed a 3D street map to the

location and Harold steered the SUV out of the parking lot.