Duel Nature (8 page)

“Garth, this is my wife, Tatiana,” I said by
way of introduction.

“Er, nice to meet you Mrs. Gordon,” he said,
eyes busy taking in her details.

“Garth, where do I check in?” I asked,
forcing him to reluctantly drag his attention away from Tanya.

“Right through that door. Quinby ought to be
in there,” he replied.

The big wooden door led me into a tiny office
area complete with the obligatory rack of tourist maps and
brochures, a coffee station and a hotel reservation desk that was
manned or womaned by Garth’s female counterpart. Close to six feet
tall, I judged Quinby to be in her mid-forties, blond, attractive
and statuesque. She looked up as I came in, her face looking
startled by my appearance. Or probably my eyes. Either way she
recovered after a second to greet me with a slightly reserved
smile. I smiled back, introduced myself and told her Garth had sent
me in to check in.

“Well, that’s probably best. Every time that
man tries to handle check in or reservations he leaves disaster in
his wake,” she said shaking her head while still studying my face.
Yup, it was the eyes again.

She was dressed simply in a sweater and
jeans, but she fairly dripped with jewelry. That in and of itself
wasn’t odd (come on, I live in New York City where almost every
woman drips with jewelry), it was that none of it was gold or
silver. Wood beads and carved ivory made up most of the necklaces
and bracelets, with small stones and gems littered among the more
organic material.

I handed her my Coven credit card and filled
out the little slip of paper that seems to be mandatory for all
small inns, B&B’s and motels. After writing out the details of
the Tahoe and signing the credit card slip, I was handed the key to
cabin four.

“Every cabin has an outdoor
firepit and grill. Help yourself to the mountain of wood that Garth
is always playing around in. Oh and when you check out, the cabin
needs to be broom swept. How long are you staying?” she
asked.

“We reserved it for four nights, but we might
stay longer if that’s alright?” I replied.

She opened her mouth to reply but was
interrupted by a voice from the doorway behind her.

“Mom, I finished the laundry,” came through,
just before another blond head poked out. “Oh!” said the girl as
she realized I was standing there. “Ohh!” was the follow up after a
second.

“Mr. Gordon, this is my daughter Britta. She
and her sister Erika provide some of the extra hands needed to keep
this place going.

I have a unique ability to tell the age of a
vampire to within a year or so with a single glance. It absolutely
doesn’t work on young humans in their late teens to early twenties.
Britta was a very pretty, blue-eyed younger version of her mother
and could have been as old as twenty or possibly as young as
sixteen. It was difficult to tell, which probably caused no end of
problems for her parents. As tall as me and built like her mother,
she would be a target for every male from pimple faced
high-schoolers to middle-aged men. She had sort of frozen up, eyes
wide like a deer in the headlights.

“Britta, where the hell did you go?” another
female voice came through from what had to be the family’s private
living quarters.

The girl that came through was Britta’s clone
in every detail, except for the annoyed expression on her face.

“Erika, I’m guessing?” I asked the girl’s
mother.

“Yes, my twins,” she answered me, smiling
slightly at the surprised expression on Erika’s face.

Erika’s surprised expression changed to a big
smile, while Britta continued to stare at me without comment.

“Girls, Mr. Gordon and
his
wife
are
staying in cabin four for most of the week,” she said, emphasizing
the word wife. The twins looked at her in unison then back at
me.

“Where
is
your wife, Mr. Gordon?” Quinby
asked.

“It’s Chris and she’s outside talking to your
husband, keeping an eye on our…dog,” I answered.

Just then the door behind me opened and Tanya
came through followed by Garth. The expressions on the three
Boklund womens’ faces flashed through a series of changes, almost
too quick to catch. Quinby took in Tanya at a glance, her face
briefly registering first the dismay that most attractive women
feel when they first meet my vampire. Faced with her literally
inhuman beauty, most females are intimidated. Then Quinby’s face
took in her husband’s body language and her features settled into a
look that promised doom to Garth in the near future. I’ve seen that
one before as well. Then she took another look at Tanya and her
eyes widened, then hardened.

The twins stared at Tanya, eyes wide, then
Britta looked away, concentrating on something on the desk, while
Erika’s eyes continued to take in the details of Tanya’s
clothes.

Chapter 9

Tanya was wearing designer jeans, some kind
of half-boot which I know cost a lot of money and a white blouse
with a blue shawl like thing over it, all in fashion, all
expensive. Living in New York city, with unlimited wealth, it’s
natural that Tanya would be a fashionista. My own clothes are only
slightly less likely to be current, but that’s due to the efforts
of both Lydia and Tanya to keep me presentable (in their
estimation). I just wear what’s handy. Lydia spent some time trying
to educate me, but eventually just gave up and settled for removing
anything she deemed out of fashion, although I do have a secret
stash of old sweat shirts she hasn’t found yet.

I introduced Tanya to the three women,
collected some extra towels from Quinby, then ushered my vampire
out of the tiny office. Garth started to follow but was brought up
short by his wife’s voice.

We escaped to the Tahoe, driving over to
cabin four while Awasos ran along beside us. Being as it was the
middle of her sleep time, Tanya immediately climbed into the queen
bed and fell back to sleep. I made sure all the blinds were closed,
then unpacked the SUV. Putting most of the groceries away, I left
out the big party packs of hot dogs and hamburgers, putting a dozen
of each on the gas grill that came with the cabin. Awasos and I
would snack on those while studying the layout of the resort.

The cabins formed a five part arc around the
shoreline of a tiny pond that had no name on any maps. In the
middle of the arc was the main lodge, office, and living quarters
of the Boklund family. The pond was small enough that it hadn’t
been visible from the front, road-side, of the lodge. Cabin four
was out near the end of the arc, only empty cabin five beyond it.
Cabins one thru three all showed signs of occupancy. Cars were
parked at one and two; a pair of kayaks with paddles and gear were
jumbled around number three. There was a small beach in front of
the lodge with a couple of beat up canoes and an aluminum row boat
parked on the sand.

During the short time it took to grill up the
grease burgers and frankfurters enough activity occurred for me to
get some idea of our neighbors. The screen door on cabin one burst
open and a small, dark-haired boy of about seven or eight came
flying out, a plastic gun in one hand and a drink box in the other.
Immediately, he laid down an impressive display of suppressive
fire, blasting flashing lights and recorded machine gun sounds at a
crow flying by, two dragonflies, a squirrel sitting in a nearby
tree and a small pine stump next to the shoreline. Turning our way
he froze when he spotted the massive wolf sitting next to me, his
right hand coming to rest on the bumper of the black BMW SUV that
was parked in front of his cabin. I noticed that the BMW wore
dealer plates.

“Whoa!” he said, frozen while his hind brain
registered the apex predator a hundred yards away. Awasos’s calm
dog-like demeanor must have convinced the boy that he wasn’t in
much danger because he unfroze and started our way. When he was
about thirty yards from us, he suddenly stopped, watching us
awkwardly, unable to look away, but too shy to come any closer.

“Hi”, I ventured.

“Hi” he replied, his eyes flicking from
Awasos to me and back again. “Is that your dog?”

“Yup, his name is Awasos,” I replied. “He
won’t hurt you. I’m Chris.”

“He’s really big,” he said, his eyes huge as
he took in the monster canine at my side.

“Yes he is and he eats a ton,” I said, making
my point by tossing a pair of grilled hotdogs to Awasos. The franks
disappeared in a single snap of bear trap jaws, big tongue wiping
his lips.

“He looks more like a wolf than a dog,” the
boy observed.

“Well, you’re pretty sharp, because he has
some wolf in him,” I said.

“
My mom says I’m smart for
my age,” he replied, then added as an afterthought, “I’m
Billy.”

“BILLY!” a female voice yelled from his
cabin. A petit and very pregnant woman of about thirty appeared in
the door to cabin one. She wore the harried expression of an
overworked mother.

“I’m right here Mom,” he yelled back.

His mother took in the sight of her son
talking to a strange man with a huge wolf-dog and fear blossomed on
her face.

“You probably better head back to your mom,
Billy,” I said.

He understood, having already read his
mother’s expression.

“Billy come here!” she said, although his
feet were already moving in her direction.

“See you later, mister,” he said to me with a
nod to Awasos.

“Later, Billy,” I said, hoping his mother
wasn’t too creeped out.

Billy disappeared into his cabin, but at that
moment the door on cabin two opened and a portly bearded man backed
out holding an assortment of gear. Somewhere around sixty years
old, his half-glasses were perched on his nose in the middle of a
face surrounded by gray beard and mustache. His arms held a fly
rod, fish creel, a butterfly net and a soft cooler, while a camera
and binoculars hung on straps around his neck. His attire was a
mixture of LL Bean and Orvis.

Stumbling out of the door, he completely
failed to notice us as he dragged his stuff in the direction of the
beach. A male voice called to him from the cabin’s interior.

“Gordon, did you grab the lunch cooler?”

“Yes Mitch,” he called back, without looking
up. As he continued to haul his stuff toward one of the canoes
another man appeared in the door to cabin two. Mitch was taller,
also probably a few years younger than Gordon and dressed neatly in
cargo shorts, a light weight sun-blocking shirt and a fly fishing
vest with hiking boots on his feet. He was slimmer than Gordon, in
obviously good shape. He also noticed us immediately. Like everyone
else he froze in place for a second, but came to life when I tossed
another hot dog to Awasos.

“Hello there,” he said.

“Howdy, looks like a good day for fishing,” I
replied, nodding at his friend who was attempting to get their
stuff into the canoe.

Mitch headed over, studying us curiously as
he came. The cheeseburgers were done so I started to spatula them
onto the open buns I had laid out.

“You want both mayo and ketchup?” I asked my
furry friend while Mitch closed the distance between us. Awasos
nose butted me in response which meant yes.

“That’s a wolf,” Mitch stated as he got
closer.

“Hybrid,” I answered, “His father was a
wolf.”

“What was the mother?” he asked, awe in his
voice as he got close enough to really understand the size of the
beast that was impatiently waiting for his burgers.

“Kodiak bear,” I replied.
“I’m Chris, this is Awasos.”

“I’m Mitch, that’s Gordon,” he said, pointing
at his friend who had finally seen us and was now headed our way.
“He must weigh close to two hundred?”

Weres and vampires have denser muscles and
bones than humans, another effect of the virus’s that create them.
Awasos , in wolf form, weighed much more than a regular wolf his
size would weigh.

“A bit more than that, actually,” I answered.
Gordon arrived at our location and introductions were made. Both
men had trouble taking their eyes off my furry friend.

I started to hand burgers to Awasos, who
carefully took them from my hand, consuming each in a couple snaps
of his jaws. The two men were fascinated, studying him in a
professorial/scientific type way.

“Hybridization can result in larger offspring
than either parent,” Gordon noted, reinforcing the academic image I
was getting.

“Were the parents big?” Mitch asked.

“Oh yeah,” I said, thinking of the Fenris
wolf and the Kodiak female that had birthed Awasos.

“You guys scientists or professors, or
something?” I asked, biting into my own burger.

“That obvious?” Mitch laughed. Of the two, he
definitely had the better social skills. “I teach biology and
zoology at the University of Michigan, Gordon teaches
entomology.”

“That explains the butterfly net,” I said,
understanding that Gordon would probably rather catch bugs than
trout.

They both laughed at that. Neither showed an
inclination to try and pat Awasos which almost everyone who met him
wanted to do.

For his part, Awaso was more interested in
the flow of burgers from my hand to his mouth.

“So is this like a famous trout pond or
something?” I asked.

Mitch laughed, looking a bit chagrined. “No,
but the Boklunds tell me that there are trout in it. I think Gordon
will have more luck than I.”

Gordon nodded. “I think I
may have seen a
Somatochlora hineana
on the pond yesterday,” he said
excitedly.

I must have looked puzzled because Mitch
explained. “ Hine’s Emerald Dragonfly. Very rare, endangered.”

“Yes, yes, yes. A large dark dragonfly with
emerald eyes and two yellow stripes oblique on the thorax,” Gordon
said, seriously.