Chapter Ten

The rest of the drive was in silence.  Josephine sat staring out the window, not moving but for the times when Harold changed lanes and her body moved like a mannequin he’d put in the passenger seat.  He was uncomfortable with the silence but couldn’t bring himself to say anything.  He spent the time thinking of questions to ask her, and how best to present the questions so he didn’t come across as an ulfhedinn hunter trying to interrogate a draug.  

Harold heard Josephine draw in a breath and then exhale.  He looked over at her.  She was looking around as if orientating herself to surroundings she’d suddenly been dropped into without warning.  The sky was filled with varying shades of light grey clouds.  They reminded Harold of England.  

Seeing Josephine’s apparent disorientation, Harold said, “We just entered, and passed, Sampson.  North of Ocean Shores.” She looked at him and said “Oh.”  

Wanting to draw her out he asked, “You mind if we open the windows and skylight?  The smell of the ocean would be a nice change from the new car smell we’ve been in for the last two hours.”  

“Yes, that would be fine.” Harold thought he saw the corners of her mouth go up as she reached up to operate the skylight controls.  Harold fairly beamed as the cabin was flooded with all the smells he’d only been able to get a hint of within the close to airtight SUV.   

Sensing an opening he went a little further, “Ah, I love that smell.  It’s different from the smell of the ocean in England.  Which of course is different from the smell of the ocean in South Africa, which is different from the smell in Australia, and, well you know.” He was trying to establish some sort of rapport thinking that would make asking questions easier, but Josephine looked at him like he was slightly crazy.   

“Different smell?  Yes, the bays or harbours around some cities do smell different, but that’s because of the different garbage and refuse humans dump in them.  The ocean itself smells the same everywhere. But not to you?” Before he could answer she added, “Oh, the famous senses of the do- ulfhednar. Is it true that when you change into your werewolf form you can pick out a single vampire in a city?”   

That was a question Harold decided would be best to lie about.  There was no need to give away hunting abilities. “Yes.  With ease.”

“Then why didn’t you catch the next train and track me?  You could have waited until night fall and picked up my scent from the station in London.” Josephine was staring at him without blinking, yet her face displayed real curiosity.  Harold was beginning to find her a little more unsettling the longer he was around her.   

“Ah, that. Well, I was in a little trouble with my pack leader and was ordered back to our hall.” As he said it Harold realized that he had just opened a can of worms and was now risked spending the next hour or so answering more and more questions.  He resolved to find a way to get some information out of Josephine in the process.  

Josephine seemed amused and smiled an impish grin, “Were you in trouble because of me? If that is the case I have to say I’m very flattered.”

Grunting Harold replied, “Yes, but don’t let it go to your head.” Hoping to change the subject he added, “I’m hungry, see if you can find someplace to eat.”

Josephine laughed out loud like a girl that had just found something embarrassing about a classmate of a lower strata in school.  “Oh, I’m not letting that one go. Tell me more.”

Harold glared at her to no effect.  “Food, then talk.” Josephine just smiled at him.  “Really, I’m hungry.” As if to emphasize the point, his stomach rumbled just a little.  Josephine glanced at his stomach like it was some strange creature she’s seen run across the floor.

“Fine.”  She said, looking a little peeved.

Josephine pulled out her phone and quickly started rattling off restaurants.   

Harold stopped her as she went through the list, “Wait.  Galway Bay, Irish food, that sound good. Enter the address in the GPS.”  Josephine did then looked at Harold like she was trying to figure out the meaning of a modern art sculpture, “Two things. First, you’re from England, you’ve traveled thousands of miles and you want to eat food you could get at home? Second, you only ate a little over two hours ago.”

Harold took on an almost pompous attitude and said without looking at Josephine, “Ask any Irishman and any Englishman about our respective food and cooking styles and you’ll find there are dramatic differences.  As for the implication that I’m a glutton, I’m hungry and that’s that.  How often do you eat?”  Harold knew a draug could go three to five days between meals but wanted to keep the questions and answers reciprocal.  

“I usually find something to hunt every three days.  Any more than that and I, well it gets harder to control myself.  I find myself looking at people.”  Her mood had changed dramatically as she spoke and Harold was worried she’d sink back into herself.   

“Well, that shouldn’t be a problem here.  We have an entire mountain range to hunt in and a huge variety of animals in it.” Harold smiled.  He was honestly looking forward to doing some hunting in the mountains and not having to worry about coming across some campers or farmers.   

Josephine picked up his sincere pleasure at the thought and reflected it, “I’ve never hunted in a place like this.  Normally I only hunt, if you can call it that, sheep and have only hunted deer once.  And that just recently.  This will be exciting.”  

Harold pulled into the Galway Bay parking lot. Harold saw an opportunity to learn more about draugar, “Would you consider hunting together?  I’ve a great deal of experience and might be able to teach you a few tips.”

Getting out of the SUV Josephine walked around it to the front entrance alongside Harold, “Yes, that would be interesting for us both.”  She reached for the door and then stopped herself.  Harold smiled and opened the door for her, and then the interior door.  Josephine walked in without saying a word.   

Once again all eyes went to Josephine and Harold was virtually ignored.  Sitting themselves, Harold scanned the patrons.  All earðkin and nothing else. The waitress came over with two glasses of water and asked if they wanted anything to drink.  She was flustered and trying hard not to look at Josephine.  Harold ordered an ale from the selection she rattled off while blatantly not looking or even turning her head in Josephine’s direction.   

After she left Harold turned to Josephine, “Any idea why the waitress was acting like that?”  

“A lesbian that doesn’t know she’s a lesbian.” Replied Josephine in a snide tone.

Harold honestly didn’t understand.  Although he was a 101 years old, his understanding of earðkin courting customs was virtually non-existent except for what he’d read or seen in movies or TV.  All his relationships had been within the confines of ulfhednar culture which had very little variation and based around family and clan loyalty.  

“Please excuse my ignorance, but you’re going to have to explain that to me.” As he finished his sentence the waitress came back with his ale and again made a point of not looking at Josephine.  Harold didn’t even reach for his drink and instead watched the waitress walk away.  Turning back to Josephine and with a puzzled expression on his face he asked, “Is this some strange vampire effect I’ve not heard of before?”

Josephine chuckled and shook her head, “Yes.  Sort of.  All humans are attracted to my kind.  For most this is a simple sexual attraction and they are comfortable with it.  Some aren’t.  The waitress for example may be attracted to women but has never admitted it to herself, or has and feels bad about it, and my effect on her brought that out.”   

Glancing in the direction of their waitress talking to another waitress she added, “She’d be a lot happier knowing herself a little better.”   

Harold thought that was an interesting thing for a draug to say.  How much was a draug themselves and how much of them was their religion and bloodlust?  

“How well do you know yourself?  You’ve renounced earðkin blood and your religion.  What does that make you?”

The question was apparently a particularly vexing one.  Josephine became a beautiful statue staring at Harold.  She turned her head as a different waitress came over, but her expression didn’t change. The new waitress  took Harold’s order and to deflect her attention from Josephine, he told her his lunch companion was on a gluten free diet and had already eaten.  

Josephine didn’t turn her head back to face Harold.  He made an ‘oh well’ face and pulled out his phone to look up the nearest Indian reservation.  Quinault Indian Reservation was north of them and with a little more searching found a lodge on Quinault Lake.  He’d made reservations for two rooms adjacent to each other before his food arrived.    

When it did arrive Josephine turned and stared at his meal.  She drew in a deep breath through her nose. “What is that?” she asked, her nose wrinkling a little.

“Forfar Bridie.  Beef and lamb. It’s very good.” He left it at that hoping she would have something to say about the question he asked.  

Josephine looked at Harold, “You don’t have questions about what you are, why you do what you do, your place in the world and heaven do you? It’s all explained and makes sense to you doesn’t it?” Her voice had a contemptuous and challenging edge to it.

Harold took a sip of his ale and put it down slowly.  Once again her tone had put him on guard and his training made him review his options if things suddenly became violent.  He lowered his voice and leaned into Josephine a little.  

“No and yes. But our situations are different.  My role in the world is specifically the result of your peoples’.  If your people were like you or these reformed vampires we seek, I would be on my family’s farm with my brother and probably married with three or four children.”  

She smiled and looked Harold up and down as if appraising a race horse, “You don’t seem the farming, family type to me.  Too much like an unkempt barbarian for that lifestyle I think.”  

The new waitress came over and asked if Josephine would like anything and volunteered a list of teas and salads.  Josephine shook her head and gave a pleasant “No thank you.”  The waitress smiled a little wider and replied, “Well you just let me know if you change your mind sweetheart.” As she turned and left Harold thought he saw a hint of sadness in Josephine’s face.  Harold looked at the waitress as she walked back to the kitchen.  She was older than the other waitresses, around 65, grey and brown hair in a bun and weighed close to 185lbs.  Another set of questions he wanted to ask Josephine formed in his mind but he put them aside to focus on finishing the last one.  

“Be as that may be, what of you?”

“I don’t know, a heretic, an apostate, a revolutionary, a fool, a traitor, I don’t know.” Josephine leaned back in the booth, “You haven’t told me what trouble you got into because of me.” Harold could almost see her ego inflate as she spoke.  

“Well, I was ordered to chase after the two draugar, sorry, vampires that were sitting outside your flat.  I disobeyed that order and chased after you instead. When I got to the train station you’d already caught the last train and my pack leader had caught up with me.  Back to the hall I went.” Harold hoped Josephine didn’t ask any questions about the type of trouble he was in.  He didn’t want to reveal his court martial to her, not that it would mean much to her, he just didn’t feel like talking about it.  

“Why on earth did you chase after me?”  Harold smiled, draugar ego, it was all about them.  

“I was curious, why were the other two stalking you?  Why were they being so patient? What were your plans?” Harold stopped there and looked at Josephine and raised his eyebrows.  

“Henri, that’s the name of the older vampire, must have called in someone to help him.  I’m not sure why they didn’t just break in and kill me or drag me back to the guild that night.  Perhaps they planned to follow me hoping I’d lead them to the reformed vampires.  I don’t know.”  

Harold thought that over.  It would have made sense, they could have used Josephine as a stalking horse to get close to the apostate draugar.  The younger draug was dead, and Henri had escaped.  He may still be following Josephine.  Harold drew in a breath through his nose and double checked for draugar.  None but the one in front of him.  

“Well, that’s over now and we are on a quest that promises to be either utterly futile and boring, or revolutionary and exciting.” Harold beamed a toothy smile and raised his ale out of habit to make a toast.  Josephine couldn’t help herself and smiled as well.  She picked up her glass of water and tapped it lightly against Harold’s ale.   

“I’m not sure which option I prefer.” She said with a small smile.