Once on the school lawn, the policeman did not find the minister he expected.  Instead, he found a young woman who was probably too old to be a senior in the high school.  She might have been one of the young teachers except she was wearing the strangest outfit.  It was all chain mail and leather and the sword and knife at her back looked a bit too real for a costume.

            “What are you doing?”  The policeman asked.  He considered asking who are you?  He also considered saying run for your life; but he settled on what are you doing?  She was kneeling, looking at the grass.

            “Hush.”  The woman spoke sharply before she looked up and softened her tone.  “Charley.  I’m tracking the beast.  Hunting and tracking is what Princesses do best,” the Princess said.  She stood.  “This way.”

            “Wait a minute.”  Charley stopped her before she took a step.  “This is dangerous work.  I can’t risk a civilian.”

            The Princess just smiled and held out her hand.  “You lead the way.”

            Charley looked at her.  He looked at the ground, let his eyes wander into the dark, looked at the ground again and back at her.  “Which way?”

            The Princess smiled a bit more and took the man’s free hand.  Of course, Charley was not about to let the gun out of his other hand. 

###

            “I don’t get it,” the Princess whispered.  “We found where it climbed the tree and scooted out on that long branch to drop to the ground some distance from the tree.”

            “A good way to avoid visual pursuit,” Charley countered.

            “Then we found when it hit the school driveway and turned up the driveway because asphalt doesn’t show claw prints.”

            “So the wolf is clever.”

            “But that is what I don’t get.  Werewolves are not clever.  They are insane killing machines, people driven mad by the transformation.”

            “How do you know?”  The Princess just stared at the man until he spoke again.  “Well, I’ve hunted all my life but I never could have tracked the beast in the dark.  How did you figure it jumped the hedge from the driveway?”

            “Only way to disguise it’s exit from the asphalt without showing which way it went.”  She pointed to the claw marks in the mud where the beast landed.  “There is something different going on here,” she said, and she pulled her sword with her left hand and her long knife with her right.

            “Southpaw?”

            “Hush.”

            They walked forward toward the woods, but when they were still a few feet off, the Princess halted them.  Something struck her and she spoke at some volume, and just one word.

            “Amuna.”  She thought to add a note of assurance.  “You can come out.  We won’t hurt you.”

            They heard the growl of warning before they saw the wolf.  It was not the same one that attacked the men from the porch, but only Glen knew that and the Princess said nothing about it because she was no longer there.  Junior had taken her place in the dark, but since he was dressed in the same armor as the Princess, an outfit that adjusted automatically to this new person, Charley did not notice at first.

            When the wolf poked its head out from the trees, Charley lifted his gun hand.  He  panicked when he realized the gun was no longer there.  The wolf snarled and drooled altogether too much for him.

            “Amuna,” Junior called, and Charley turned his head for a second in surprise at the male voice while Junior fell to one knee.  Suddenly there was some light in that part of the forest.  The male, half-changed back into a man was leaning up against a tree.  The wound in his shoulder appeared to be healing rapidly, but he was still weak.  The female had not moved a step since they first saw her head, and it looked like, for some reason, she could not move.  Charley could see her struggling, but to no avail.

            “Amuna.”  Junior called again.  “My name is Amun, just like yours.”  The little wolf came out from behind her mother.  As small as she was, she looked vicious, but sort of cute at the same time.  Mother wolf struggled, but could not break whatever had her stuck to the ground. 

            Father wolf was still too weak to interfere.  As the little wolf came toward the man’s arms, though, she transformed back into a little girl.  The male and female transformed as well and they all became clothed as they changed.  Junior thought that was best.

            “Hello,” the little girl said as Junior picked her up.  She spoke in a language so strange, apart from reading her mind, Junior himself had to pause for a second to grasp the word.  When he did, he responded in the same language with a nod to the police officer so Charley would hear it all in English.

            “Tell me.”  That was all Junior had to say as he handed the girl back to her mother.  The man came forward, all healed, and fell to his knees.

            “I was body servant to Count Ruthen-Bai and as such, my wife and child were able to travel with the camp followers whenever the army moved out.  When the Duke and his Princess escaped my master by going into another world, this world, the Count insisted I follow and kill him.  I refused.”  The man looked down as Junior nodded and the woman picked up the story.

            “The Count sent soldiers after the Duke, but he was angry.  He fetched us from the camp, cursed us with the wolf disease and forced us into this place.  We have wandered now these few months and four times when the moon has turned full for three nights we become as you have seen us.”

            The man interrupted.  “We tried not to hurt anyone.  Please believe me.  But the wolf is so strong and the hunger so great.”  He began to weep and the little girl reached out from her mother’s arms to include him in her hug.

            “So let the curse be ended,” Junior said, knowing full well they were telling the truth.  He turned to the policeman.  “I need to take them home, back to their own world.”

            “But, murder?”  Charley did not know what else to say.

            “No, I don’t think so.  I think it was a pack of wild dogs, and they have all been caught now and put down.”  As soon as Junior said that, everyone thought that, except Missus Patterson who was looking forward to getting out of the hospital.  He let her remember, but she never said anything as long as she lived.

            At that moment, Junior disappeared with the young family.  He found a big, black wild dog that had just died somewhere in the Andes, inserted the policeman’s bullet and laid it at Charley’s feet.  Ten seconds later, Glen came running up from behind the policeman.

            “Sorry,” Glen apologized.  I got lost in the dark.

            “Forget it.  It’s all over.”  Charlie pointed his gun at the dog.  He looked at Glen and scoffed.  “Werewolf!”  Glen shrugged, sheepishly, and within an hour he wondered what on this Earth possessed him to even suggest such a thing in the first place.

            Glen got up extra early on Sunday morning.  It was not his habit, he just could not sleep.  It was five, the sun would be up in an hour, and he imagined a walk in the chill morning air might do him some good.  Walking, and exercise in general was not his habit, either, but it would give him time to think and pray through the Sunday service.

            Rosemont was an odd street.  It was four blocks long and paralleled main street, but it was several blocks back in a corner of the town where no one would go unless they were headed for the Evangeline school.  As such, it was nearly always quiet of traffic and a good place to walk.  In fact,  there were a couple of joggers down the way already.

            Glen pulled up his collar against the cold and looked up at the sky.  He heard the sirens in the distance, but ignored them.  He preferred to concentrate on the brilliant stars in the perfectly clear sky and the moon, which was low in the sky but had to be full.  Glen supposed it was technically Sunday.  Linton said the moon would be full on Sunday.

            Glen paused.  He considered stepping off the road and on to the school lawn to get a better look at the stars away from the street lights.  His foot was ready when he heard the scream in the distance.  Some dog began to bark, violently.  It was not a friendly sound.

            Glen ran and the sirens got closer as well.  When he arrived at that spot, there was a man comforting Mable Johnson, one of the sweet old ladies from Lewiston who was out walking her dog.  The dog had quieted but was clearly agitated by something.  Glen wanted to look.

            “Don’t go down there.”  The man turned from Mable long enough to offer his opinion.  Glen nodded, but as the police car arrived, Glen went down there anyway.  There were body pieces strewn across the lawn.  Glen saw a man’s head and upper torso, the eyes dead and staring.  He only saw the girl’s head, severed at the neck.  Some of the body pieces looked chewed.  Glen had to look away.

            Two policemen came down the grassy embankment into the ditch where the devastation had taken place.  One had his gun drawn.  Fortunately, Linton came down the other side from the hill on which the school stood.

            “Joe.  Charley.”  Linton acknowledged the policemen as he came up beside Glen.  He otherwise seemed at a loss for words.

            “What happened here?”  One of the policemen swore.

            “Reverend?”  Linton identified Glen for the policemen.  Glen wanted to speak, but his mouth was too dry at the moment.

            “Go home, Mabel.  You, too Mister Thompson.”  The other policeman spoke to the two on the edge of the road.  There were more sirens coming.

            “Linton, can I speak with you?”  The first officer tried to pry Linton from Glen’s side, and Linton was willing to go, but Glen grabbed Linton’s arm to stop him.

            “Werewolf.”  Glen said loud enough to be heard by both men.  He had seen these signs before, though he could not say when.

            The policeman scoffed and continued to try and get Linton off to the side, but Linton paused.

            “You’re serious.”  He looked squarely at Glen.

            Glen nodded.  “I have seen this before,” he said, and he stole another look at the moon.  “Tomorrow night will be the last night for this cycle and I am sure whoever it is will move on.”

            The policeman was not buying it at all, and it was clear Linton did not really believe it either.  But there was something in Glen’s eyes, and Linton knew, though he had not known Glen for very long, that Glen was not a liar.

            “You must be mistaken,” Linton said.

            Glen just stared.  “Werewolf,” he repeated now that both policemen were able to hear and more were about to arrive.  “When you analyze the hair you find, you will find wolf hair.”  The policemen looked at each other but said nothing.  “I will think about what I can do.  Meanwhile, somehow I have to preach in a few hours.  Come to church, I think we could all use a little prayer.”  Glen turned away without another look at that horror.  He climbed out of the ditch, headed for home and tried hard to think about his sermon.

###

            Glen could not sleep at all on Sunday night.  He got up around four-thirty and made coffee, but it did not help settle his nerves.  He decided his only recourse was to return to the site of last night’s horror, though he was sure it was all cleaned up.  That poor young girl from the school, and her boyfriend.  At least he hoped and prayed it was cleaned up.

            Glen was not far down the street when an odd thing caught his eye.  There was a table out under the streetlight and something on the table, though he had no idea what.  He had to get closer to see the biggest steak he had ever seen, raw, but laid out like supper.  His eyes shot to the house and the front porch.  It was Leon’s house.

            “What are you doing?”  He shouted, started toward the porch and barely avoided calling them Bozos.  There were three men in the shadows and Glen had no doubt the shotguns were not far away.

            “Wolf hunting,” Harry said.  He sounded a bit embarrassed.  He was a college educated writer and editor, but despite his years in New York, he never completely got the small, southern town redneck out of his system.

            “Ted and Tommy gave up and went home a couple of hours ago,”  Bobby said.

            Glen shook his head and was about to say something when he heard a growl behind him, close enough to echo in his ear.  He shouted instead and ran for the porch even as the three Bozos shouted and came running down the lawn.  Bobby was the only one who remembered to pick up his gun.

            Glen saw the wolf look at the steak and then the men.  Apparently it knew something about guns because it made a dash for Bobby and knocked him down, effectively knocking the gun from his hand.

            ‘Hey!  Yo!”  Leon and Harry jumped and shouted to get the beast’s attention, and Harry kicked out with his booted foot.  That was a good thing because the wolf turned its head to snap at the boot and that probably saved Bobby from having his throat torn out.  Glen just stood, frozen, watching, when there was a loud crack! from down the street.  The wolf howled, leapt from its prey, grabbed the steak and without stopping, bounded on to the Evangeline school front lawn to be swallowed by the dark.

            “Charley.”  Harry identified the policeman that jogged up the street even as Glen broke free of his frozen state.

            “Harry, take care of Bobby,” Glen shouted.  Bobby was bleeding in a number of places.  “Leon, go inside and call the ambulance.”  Glen turned back to the street.

            “Where are you going?”  Harry asked.

            “Hey!  Don’t follow that thing!”  Charley yelled from up the way, but he was not close enough to stop Glen, and in a moment, Glen disappeared in the dark just like the wolf.

            Glen had been to every house on the street, beginning with his own, to offer what comfort and reassurance he could.  Missus Patterson was in the hospital.  The newspaper said it was a local man who came to clean her gutters and pushed his way into the house.  Curiously, all he stole was the meat from her freezer and a big ham she had purchased for a church supper.  She ended up in the hospital and the police said they had no leads.

            Of course, the community rumors were rampant.  Most said it was one of the young African American males from Lewiston, the old name for the black side of town, but that was unconfirmed.  There were also rumors of dog hair in the house and Missus Paterson was well known for being allergic to dogs.  Linton would know.  That’s what Glen thought.  Linton served for years as part time clerk at the court.  He knew all the police by first name.

            The door chimes rang as he entered the shop and Linton looked up, but at the moment he was helping Missus Wilson with some hardware.  His was a true old time, small town south-side Virginia Western Auto and True Value with a high ceiling and dusty wooden shelves.  There were still some toys on the wall, though it was spring and well after Christmas.

            “Linton.  Maude.”  Glen acknowledged his church members but then backed up to let them conclude their business.  There was a young woman with a three-year-old on her hip by the toy shelf.  They stared at the big doll, and the little one reached for it before she turned and caught sight of Glen.  Glen smiled, and the three-year-old shyly turned into her mother’s shoulder, but the smile could not be hidden.

            “Hello.  Do you have a name?”  He asked the little girl and the woman turned.  Though a newcomer himself, Glen felt certain he had not seen them in town before.   He thought they might have been African American at first, and then thought perhaps they were Mexican migrants, but when he got close he adjusted his thinking.

            “Amuna.”  The mother spoke for the little girl.

            “My name is Glen.”  Amuna, he thought.  Amun perhaps.  They might have been Egyptian or maybe Sudanese.  If they were Arabic, they were from the dark side of the color scale.  “I pastor the big church just down the way on main street.  You are welcome to visit us if you are around tomorrow morning.”  He smiled again, but the woman did not look like she understood everything he said.  The little one understood the smile well enough and reached out a hand to touch Glen’s beard.  Glen pulled a small cross out of his pocket and showed it while he pointed down the street.  The woman’s eyes got big.  She actually curtsied before she shot for the door.

            “Migrant?”  Linton came up.

            “No, I don’t think so,” Glen responded thoughtfully.

            “Well, it wouldn’t surprise me.  Almost a full moon.  Sunday—tomorrow I think.  You know, every time we get a full moon, the migrants all come in to send Western Union money orders back home.”

            “Huh.”  Glen was half-listening and had to shake himself to pay attention.  “So tell me about Missus Paterson.  I’ve been up and down Rosemont.”  That was the street both he and Missus Paterson lived on.  “I’ve heard all the rumors but no one has seen anything unusual.”

            “Evangeline Hall?”  That was the all girls private boarding high school that took up most of the other side of Rosemont Street.  It was up on the top of the hill after a long stretch of manicured lawn and trees so it was hard to see from the street.

            “I haven’t been there, but I talked to Doctor Richards and he said there was nothing out of the ordinary up there.”  Doctor Richards was the retired Episcopal Priest who taught some at the school and served as chaplain for the girls.

            Linton turned to look out the door to the sidewalk and main street which was ready to curl up at five o’clock.  It seemed like he was not sure what to say.

            “I’ve heard all the rumors, but I can’t imagine anyone from Lewiston doing something like that,” Glen continued.

            “Maybe it was someone from Danville or Lynchburg,” Linton suggested.  Glen imagined that might be the case.

            “By the way, it wasn’t dog hair,” Linton said suddenly.  “Jonny Thompson over at the police desk said when the report came back it was wolf hair.”

            “What?”

            Linton nodded even as Glen put two and two together.

            “Wolf hair?  Full moon?  Come on, this is the wrong time of the year for Halloween.”

            “I know, there hasn’t been a wolf sighting in Virginia in a hundred years.”

            “I’m not even sure if there are any left in the lower forty-eight,” Glen scoffed.

            Glen and Linton stood and watched the sun start to set.  It was indeed a small southern town.

            “Shouldn’t you be home working on your sermon for tomorrow?”  Linton asked.

            “I suppose,” Glen said.  “Time to close?”

            “I suppose.”

            The instant Nameless vanished from New Mexico, he appeared outside Washington at the headquarters of the Men in Black.  Then he went away and Glen returned, and he chided himself because the gods were not supposed to interfere like that.  Usually, they did not.  Often, he did not even remember them, but for some reason in this difficulty, they felt very close.  Glen did not know if he should be comforted by that or worried.

            “Hold it there, buddy.  This is a restricted area.”  The building had been taken over by the marines.

            “I have a telegram for a Colonel Weber”  Glen deliberately said “Weber” rather than “Veber.”  “With a cc to Ms Roberta Brooks.”  He smiled for the marines. 

            “Wiseguy,” one of the marines said.  “You better put your hands up.”  He pulled his gun.

            Glen complied.  “Take me to your leader,” he quipped.

            “Lock-up?”  One marine asked the other.

            “Traveler!”  It was Lockhart inside the doorway.  “Put that gun away.  You’re lucky the Traveler didn’t hurt you.”

            Glen looked at his friend and did not have to ask his question out loud.

            “Boston saw you on the door monitor and I was closest.”

            “Glen.”  It was Bobbi.  Mariam was with her and Colonel Weber was right behind.  “We got a coded message on an internal frequency.   Kairos is the only clear word.  People are working on it.”

            “Let me see,” Glen said.  His hands were still up so he could not take the paper from Bobbi’s hand.

            “Put that gun away.”  The Colonel scolded the man at the door.  That marine did so quickly and Glen took the paper. 

            “Don’t be hard on him, Colonel.  He was just doing his job.”  He looked up.  “And by the way, you will be able to go home soon.  Please take your grunts with you.  I have been very patient.”

            “What is it?”  Bobbi could not contain herself.

            “A language, not code.  Take your people off the assignment.  Tell Fyodor we have to go.”

            “Any chance?”  Bobbi looked at him, but Glen shook his head.

            “Sorry.  Lockhart will have to represent you all, and Boston I suppose.”

            “Well, maybe I quit.”  Bobbi said.

            “Can’t.  I need you too much.  There is a clause that says you can’t quit when we are under occupation.”  He glanced at Colonel Weber as if Bobbi did not understand.  “How is Miriam working out by the way.”

            “One bright spot,” Bobbi said grumpily as Glen walked with her back into the building.  Glen was glad to hear it and he smiled for Miriam who returned the smile and offered a little salute.

            “So what is happening?”  Colonel Weber interrupted the moment.

            “Progress.”  Glen said and added more quietly, “I hope.”

###

            Fyodor was in the war room as Colonel Weber dubbed it.  He was sipping his coffee and chewing on a turkey sub.  “Lunch?”  He looked up.  “Bill and Farquanded volunteered to work the systems in flight and watch the ship after we get to wherever we are going.”

            “Good,” Glen said.  “But no lunch.  I really don’t have the appetite.”  He rubbed his belly like he had an upset stomach.  Besides, he just stuck his head in to see about the travel arrangements.  He was glad Fyodor had the foresight to work things out.

            “What did I miss?”  Boston asked as soon as she came in.  She pushed Lockhart along in his wheelchair. 

            “Nothing,” Glen said.  “Alice took good notes and she asked if you will do the same.  Meanwhile, if everything is set for the journey, I need to see the prisoners.”

            “Of course,” Lockhart signaled Boston to turn him around, but Glen stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

            “You need to get ready to travel,” he said.  “Bobbi?”  Of course she would take him to the prisoners.

            “Where are we going?”  Fyodor asked when Glen was in the doorway.

            “The asteroid belt,” Glen answered.

###

            Glen looked at the prisoners and only half listened when the doctors apologized for the treatment.  “We bandaged their wounds and set some bones, but we really don’t know enough about their anatomy and chemistry to do much more.”

            “It’s alright,” Glen assured the man.  “Please wait in the view room with the others.”  He added a smile of reassurance before he turned on the guards.  “Marines, out.”

            The marines hesitated.

            “Colonel!”  Glen called, but Colonel Weber did not respond.  The Colonel was one who only saw things his way and in this case he intended to keep these Vordan under guard, he thought, for everyone’s safety.  Glen shrugged and left that place.  He let Junior step into his shoes because Junior was the only one of the four gods he had not yet touched.  Junior snapped his fingers and the marine guards found themselves standing in the field out in front of the building.  Two of the more mobile Vordan immediately stood, no doubt to attack him, but they found their feet stuck fast to the floor.  Then Junior spoke.

            “As we speak, your Admiral and his Adjutant are negotiating visitation rights for the Vordan on Earth.  This is a Kargill planet.  You are from Reichgo space.  The Reichgo and Kargill signed a treaty to that effect.  There is no reason we cannot sign the same.”  He paused because these soldiers probably did not understand the politics of all that.

            “You fought valiantly and should in no way consider yourselves surrendered or prisoners.  You are our guests, and our doctors have done their best to see to your comfort.  The misunderstanding that caused us to fight has been resolved.  We are no longer at war, and I will gladly return you to your people whenever you are ready.”

            “Grog cannot be moved,” one Vordan said.

            Junior knew that, but he waited to be invited, but then he thought Grog was the name of some reptile creature on the old Star Trek television show, or some cavemen.  He wasn’t sure.  One wave of his hand and Grog was healed, not completely, but enough so he was no longer in danger of dying.  Then Junior looked at the Vordan who spoke.

            “Anything else?”  He got a clear image in his mind and responded.  “I’m afraid the female is something you will have to work out on your own.”  Then he watched and listened.  Vordan laughter was very different as was the vision of one embarrassed Vordan.  “Live well and die well,” he said, and with another wave of his hand the Vordan were returned to their mother ships in New Mexico.  The first thing he heard after that was Colonel Weber.

            “Hey!  Those prisoners were the property of area 51.”

            “Colonel, I have told you intelligent species are off limits for experimentation.  Get the message.”  And Junior vanished as well to appear next to the ramp that lead up to the Stealth Bomber turned company jet.  “Boston,” he saluted the red head before he vanished and Glen returned to his own time and place.  “I hope we are ready to go.  Colonel Weber is not a happy camper at the moment.”

            As soon as they were boarded and Glen gave the address in New Jersey, Boston could not contain herself.  “Who was that?”  She asked.

            “Junior,” Glen responded.  “Son of Amun and Ishtar.”

            “You never mentioned him before.”

            “No, but I borrowed him once before.  It is a bit off topic to where we are going and the problem we are dealing with, but I suppose you better get out your notepad so you can fill in Alice later.

             Alice put her hand gently to Glen’s shoulder. “This life hasn’t been easy for you, has it?”

             Glen looked up at her and Mister Smith. “Actually, that was one I was glad to forget. I really would have had nightmares for the next ten years.” That was not necessarily what Alice meant but he did not feel like talking about it. Naturally, the empathic Mister Smith picked right up on that.

             “I think we have all we need. Let us hope these Vordan accept the terms,” the Zalanid said and pointed to their work on the treaty.

             Glen nodded before he shook his head. The Vordan were not an accepting people, at least not at this point in history. They were militaristic and full of themselves. Not unlike the human race, he supposed.

             Josh brought the Kargill craft in low and stopped in mid air before he lowered the invisibility screen. As soon as they were visible, the Vordan scrambled their fighters. They still had thirteen with some auxiliary craft, and it was a marvel to watch how efficient they were. Of course their weapons had no penetration on the Kargill screens, even when they concentrated their fire, and once they saw that, Glen knew the Vordan would try something else. One of the Vordan cruisers fired its main gun. It was nearly point blank range, but it did not even show up as a spark against the screens or a blip on the power gauge.

             “Okay, Wilson. Put their fighters back on the ground like we practiced,” Glen said.

             Wilson did his best, but it was hard for his mind to encompass thirteen craft coming at him from so many different directions. He tried to imagine himself above it all in order to grasp each ship, but he was not entirely successful. Eleven of the ships got planted back on the ground, but two of them crashed more than landed. Then the Vordan engines burned out so they would not be able to fly again.

             “Okay, set us down.” Glen nudged Josh the pilot and he landed the Kargill craft without too much of a bump. With that, Glen stood up straight. That was not an easy thing to do in that cramped control room, but he was not so tall. He felt sorry for the marine, Sergeant Thomas, who had to stand hunched over the whole time. He looked ready, though. The marines were always ready. Mister Smith looked relaxed, but Glen thought that might be natural for the Zalanid. Alice looked much more human. She was nervous and he did not blame her.

             “Not before I say, Mister Smith,” Glen said as he went away from there and let Nameless take his place. Nameless immediately vanished from the cockpit and reappeared in the doorway at the back of the ship where the others would eventually exit the ship. He walked from there. Sure enough, as soon as he was outside the screens around the Kargill ship, the Vordan opened fire. With his first thought, he disabled the weapons systems on the three main warships. He hoped that would signal the soldiers, but the small arms fire continued so with his second thought he disabled their weapons as well.

             He paused, caused a table and chairs to appear under an awning against the hot sun and caused the Vordan Admiral and his legal Adjutant to appear in those chairs, along with the Vordan pilot who had exchanged languages with Alice the Lawyer. He deliberately spoke in English and let the pilot translate, but he keyed his words to the Admiral’s and Adjutant’s thoughts to be certain the Vordan got the gist of it even if it was mistranslated.

             “Do not be afraid. No one is asking you to surrender. You have not been defeated or disgraced in any way, so far. If you persist in these foolish attacks, however, I cannot make promises. This is a Kargill planet.” Nameless looked back and mentally gave his permission. Alice, Mister Smith and Sergeant Thomas vacated the Kargil ship and began to walk in his direction. Nameless paused. The Kargill ship was barely bigger than a shuttle, like nothing compared to the size of the Vordan warships, but like some women he knew over the millennia, and maybe a few that he had been, she was small but mighty. He turned back to the conversation with barely a pause.

             “The Reichgo, whom I see in your mind that you have met, have no authority here and only limited visitation rights. This meeting is to negotiate fairly so that as representatives of the Reichgo, you may also be granted some reasonable visitation rights. After that is settled between the Vordan and the Humans, I will return you across the uncountable stars to your home planet with your honor intact, provided you cease behaving stupidly.”

             “Alice Summers speaks for Earth.” He waited until Alice got within hearing distance to say that. “Sergeant Thomas is an observer for the military. Humanity has no intention of giving away any military secrets.” That actually impressed the Vordan. “And Mister Smith is here to facilitate the process. He is neither human nor Vordan and so he has no vested interest in the outcome. His people negotiated the original treaty between the Reichgo and Kargill that ceded this planet to Kargill space. It is only right that a Zalanid be here on this historic occasion to oversee the peaceful negotiations between the Vordan of the Reichgo and the Humans of the Kargill. Are these conditions for negotiation acceptable to all parties?” Nameless waited.

             The Vordan Admiral rose slowly and bowed to Nameless and then offered the same consideration to Mister Smith. “Zalanid we know,” he said. “We are honored.” Alice breathed and Nameless spoke.

             “Then I leave you in Mister Smith’s good hands.”

             “Wait,” Alice looked up from her seat. “Where are you going?”

            “I am going to the Asteroid belt.  Don’t worry.  I’ll tell Boston to take good notes.  And  yes, Admiral.  I will be sending them home as well.”  And he vanished.

             Glen found his parents and siblings downstairs in that big living room.  His mother rose and ran to him to hug him and hold him.  “Oh, you’re alright,” she said like she was in tears.  “I was so worried about you.”  Glen thought, who is this woman?  His mother would be yelling her head off at him being so stupid to get himself lost.  Glen pulled back.

             Greta’s mother was there.  Madam Esmerelda was not.  But the Colonel shook his dad’s hand like they were indeed old friends, and then his dad turned and spoke to Glen with one eyebrow raised.  He alternately grinned and frowned like some sort of Morse code as he spoke.

             “Well, we better get back to the park if we plan to go up the Ferris Wheel before they close.”

             “But dad.  I can’t leave David and Greta here.  They found me and saved me.  They are prisoners locked in an upstairs room.  We have to set them free and bring them with us.

             Glen’s dad frowned and this time no grin followed.  “No,” he barked.  “We must go.”

             Glen took a step back.  “You’re enchanted,” he said.

             “What?”  Glen’s brother let out his ridicule voice; it was his put the little brother down voice.  “Don’t be stupid.  Nobody is enchanted.”

             “Yes, they are.”  Glen’s little sister whispered.  She held her mom’s hand and nodded to the truth of what Glen said.

             Glen stared at his sister before he had a thought.  “Don’t be silly,” he said and he put his arms up to reach for a hug from his dad.  He saw and heard everyone in the room exhale and relax.  As soon as his father started forward, Glen turned and raced for the stairs.

             “Hey!”  Everyone yelled.  Then everyone looked around at one another before they reacted and that gave Glen a good five second start.  He was half-way up the stairs before anyone down below moved.  By then it was too late because it was no longer Glen on the stairs, but the Nameless god and there was a shield of force at the bottom of the stairs that the others could not break through.  Of course, the gods normally did not interfere with the lives of the Kairos, but Nameless justified himself.  Glen was still much too young, and the vampire could not be allowed to escape.

             Nameless was not surprised at what he found at the top of the stairs.

             Carl was free and stood in the doorway to the upstairs sitting room.  He was drooling.  Greta and David were backed up to the corner window and David held the sword up with one hand while he pushed Greta behind him with the other.  Madam Esmerelda was also in the hall and she speared to be egging on the vampire.

             When Nameless arrived, the witch took one look at the god, realized who he was and became so shocked and awe struck she died on the spot.  Her old heart quit.  Nameless ignored her, stepped over her and stepped into the room where he shoved the vampire to the wall with enough force to crumple that whole side of the man’s body.

             David and Greta gasped, and while they were drawn to this stranger, Greta especially, they could not help but watch as the crumpled vampire slowly stood, stretched and healed every bone in the process until it was like new.

             “Why do I always get the werewolves, vampires and creepy things like that?”  Nameless complained while he picked up a small wooden chair and snapped off two legs.  He shoved one leg into Carl’s heart with enough force to make it stick out the back.  Then he went to see about the dead old woman in the hall.  He rammed the other chair leg into her heart and her eyes sprang open and she shrieked – a spine chilling sound—before she remained dead.

             Nameless stepped up to the couple cowering in the corner.  “David, do you mind if I borrow my sword?”  David paused, looked at the vampire holding its chest, still on its feet but leaning against the wall and not looking at all well.  David glanced at Greta and at the doorway as if looking for the old woman.  Without a word, he held out the sword.

             “I have others I could fetch, but this one started the job so it might as well finish it.”  Nameless turned and in one swift motion he cut off the vampire’s head.  Then he did the same for the woman in the hall.  When he stepped back into the room, the sword was gone.  He handed David some papers.

             “This is the list of the Swiss and South American accounts.  I’m sorry, most of the art works are in private hands and I am not authorized to straighten that out.  The colonel and his three henchmen are tied up but they might get free.  I recommend the telephone and moving on the accounts first.  As for these two,” he turned to Greta.

             He raised his hand and Greta’s mother appeared in the room, disoriented at first before she put her fist to her mouth to hold back the scream on sight of the Nameless god. “You must fill their mouths with garlic and sew them shut to marinade the brain and make it useless.  Your mother must do that as part of her penance and don’t make me come back here.”  He stared at Greta’s mother and she got the message.  “Then you must bury them with their heads between their knees so the heads do not attempt to reattach to the bodies like the snake.

             “Who are you?”  Greta trembled in the presence of this man.  She could not help it.  It was in her blood to feel the awe of Aesgard, manifest.  David was not quite so affected.

             “Glen?”  He asked.

             Nameless looked at the ceiling and bit his lower lip before he responded.  “I have no name, so I suppose you might as well call me Glen.  Listen.”  And those present could do nothing less.  “Glen and his family will go back to their life, no wiser than when this began.  You must not look for them, and if you happen to see them you must pretend like you do not know them.  Glen, especially must forget his haunted house experience or he will never sleep nights.”  Nameless felt there was no reason to go into a big explanation about how Glen would forget, regardless.  “I will write you a letter someday, or maybe Danna will,” he promised, and raised his hand again and vanished.

             Glen and his family were in line for the Ferris Wheel.  What they had been doing for the last couple of hours never came up.  Glen stood by the window of the car for most of the ride to the top.  He ignored his family and for the most part they ignored him.  When they got to stop at the very top of the wheel, Glen thought he would rather step back a bit toward the center of the train car.  He really did not like heights all that much.

             Mom was in the corner with her baby girl in her arms.  She was pointing out things below.  Probably museums and cathedrals.  Dad was a few steps away with his son.  They were commiserating on what they could see.  Glen was left out and neglected, as expected.  He could intrude on one group or the other or just look on his own.  That might sound sad to some, but Glen was happy at that moment.  He felt this was a sure sign that everything was back to normal; and by the time the Ferris Wheel came back to earth, Glen himself had forgotten all about his own personal haunted house and all that went on there.  He just yawned and looked forward to getting back to the hotel.

            The room, an upstairs sitting room was comfortable enough apart from the locked door.  They were quiet for a good five minutes while each was lost in his or her own thoughts.  Glen thought, Greta Gruber, what a name!  He got the impression that she and her mother did not get along well, sort of like Glen and his mother.  And David, he looked to be pacing the room trying to find a way out or a weapon if he could.  The silence was interrupted when they heard shuffling in the bedroom next door followed by a bang on the wall as if whatever was there wanted to get at them.

            “Carl.”  David named the occupant of the bedroom.

            “Vampire.”  Glen had another name for the beast.

            “Don’t be silly.”  Greta spoke to Glen.  Vampire was not a word she wanted to think about, much less hear.

            “There are no such things,” David added.

            Glen looked up at the man.  “They have made one.  Carl is dead and gone.  Demons have taken the flesh.  As long as the heart pumps and the brain functions, they can appear normal enough.  They can even use the synapses and neural pathways to pretend to be the person, drawing on a lifetime of memories of family and friends and relationships.   They can heal the body from almost any wound, but they avoid the sun because it triggers the flesh to decay.  That’s why they sleep days and walk the night.”

            “And the blood?”

            “The body is dead, remember?  The digestive system is generally useless and they cannot create new blood cells very well if at all.  They need the blood like we do, to carry oxygen and keep the heart and brain alive and keep the flesh from decay and keep the muscles functioning.”

            “How old are you?”  David asked.

            “Nine,” Glen answered honestly enough.

            “What, are you in some special genius school?”

            Glen shook his head.  “Greta – my Greta studied these things and Lady Alice knows all about it, and there are others.”  He looked up at the two of them.  “We have to do something about the vampire first.  I know there can’t be Nazis again back in power, but if the vampire escapes, Vienna will soon be filled with zombie vampires.”

            There was another spell of pounding on the wall and some of the plaster in that old wall fell to the floor.  David looked but said nothing.  Greta said what was on her heart.

            “You’re frightening me.”

            Glen nodded.  “I’m terrified.  I hate witches.”  Greta frowned before she knelt down to give Glen a hug.  Another few minutes of silence followed before Greta screamed.  There was a serpent in the room.  It was much too big to have slithered under the door and no one could guess how it got there, but it was bobbing and weaving and shooting out its tongue as if testing the air in search of its prey.

            “Behind me.”  David stepped up and Greta eagerly complied, but he had to grab Glen by the arm to drag him back.  David had no doubts who the snake was looking for.  The snake dropped to the ground and ignored David.  It slithered to another part of the room where it stopped, lifted its head and began to bob and weave once more.

            “David.”  Glen whispered, though there was no reason to suppose the snake could hear or understand him.  David turned his head to see Glen struggling with a sword that was too big for him to lift.  “Lady Alice said you might need this.”

            “Glen.”  Greta took her eyes off the snake long enough to exclaim her surprise.  “Where did you get that?”  David picked it up and shook his head.

            “I’m no knight.  I’m Jewish, remember?”

            “Lady Alice sent it,” Glen answered Greta.  “From Avalon – the netherworld, I suppose.”  Even as Glen spoke, the snake made a lunge for him.  David brought the sword down, and it must have been a lucky blow because the snake’s head was severed in mid-lunge.  Greta and Glen screamed and the pounding on the wall began in earnest.

            Still, the snake was not dead.  The head and neck appeared to be searching for each other in order to reconnect.  As David looked at the sword and wondered about his lucky blow, Glen stopped screaming long enough to tug on Greta’s sleeve.

            “Make it disappear.  You have to delete it.  Hurry, before it gets fixed and starts hunting again.  Greta!”

            Greta looked at Glen and took a breath before she nodded.  She concentrated and Glen saw her magic come out in a mud colored stream.  It covered the snake, both parts, but while the snake flickered like a bad holograph, it did not go out.  Greta concentrated and began to sweat.  Glen leapt forward when the snake looked ready to find its other half.  He had a long knife in his hand and he managed to pin the snake head to the floor. 

            “Keep trying.”  He yelled even as David yanked him back to safety.

            The snake flickered again and finally vanished, and Greta had to sit from the strain.  She spoke when she caught her breath.  “Mother could not have done that.  Madam Esmerelda must be a very powerful sorceress.”

            “Hey!”  David yelled that time because the knife vanished from the floor where it was stuck fast.  He turned on Glen.  “Who exactly are you?”  He eyed the sword in his hand.  “Don’t give me that American tourist bit.”

            The pounding on the wall to the next room stopped and everyone paused to look.  The wall was badly cracked, but not broken.  Then the door opened and one of the gunmen with the swastika lapel pin came in.  “Young man, your family is here.  Come unt see them.” 

            Glen took and squeezed David’s and Greta’s hands.  “For later, no time for tradition” he said before he let go of both hands and ran to the door.  As soon as he was out the door, David and Greta both looked back at the cracked wall, but there was only silence from the other room.

            Glen put his hands straight up and kept his mouth closed.  Greta dropped a hand on to Glen’s shoulder but otherwise merely frowned.  David fingered his pocket before he shook his own head.  A man stepped up and took David’s souvenir along with a knife and brass knuckles. 

            Glen watched as they escorted them to a large living room area.  He saw the swastika pins the men wore and he knew enough history to recognize them for what they were.  But that was twenty years ago.  There weren’t supposed to be any Nazis anymore.

            The old man in the smoking jacket from the front door was sitting in a comfortable chair sipping brandy.  The older woman with the reddish-brown hair was there as well, and she stood when they came in.

            “The boy,” the woman gasped.

            “Eh?”  The old man looked up from his brandy

            “But he couldn’t have followed me,” the woman complained.  She shot a sharp look at David.  “The Jew must have been watching in the park and brought the boy by another way.”

            “This is the missing boy?”  The old man stood slowly and smiled.  “How convenient.”

            “No, mother.”  Greta spoke to the old woman.  Glen looked, but swallowed his surprise.  He might have guessed Greta, being magical, was related in some way to the witch with the purple smoke.  He was surprised they were mother and daughter, but someone inside his head said to swallow his reaction.  It would be better if they did not know he understood German and assumed he did not know what they were saying.

            “You might say he found us,” Greta said.

            “Don’t be silly.  I watched and left a trail of magic.  No one followed me.”

            “Yet, here he is.”  Greta pointed at Glen and imagined that should be proof enough for her mother.

            “Quiet,” the old man put his hand up.  “What does the Jew say?”

            David looked around the room like a museum visitor.  “I say how could an SS Colonel afford such a nice house?”

            The Colonel was surprised for a second, but then he joined David in looking around the room with admiration.  “All of those art treasures of the Fuehrer.  We have enough secreted away to begin again, but I did help myself to a bit of it.”

            “And the Fuehrer’s fascination with the occult made some discoveries as well I see.”

            The Colonel picked up his brandy.  “You will not believe me, but I actually saw an ogre once.  It was too strong and fast to capture.  It escaped back to the netherworld, but it was a sight, let me tell you.”  He took a long drink and Glen thought to himself if the ogre was smart enough to escape it was probably a goblin or a troll.

            “But things have not worked out so well for your adjutant, have they?”

            “Carl?”  The Colonel put his emptied glass on the table beside his chair as if he intended to pick up where he left off once business was taken care of.  “You have been spying on me.”  He shook his finger at David and grinned at a joke he did not care to share.

            “It’s my job,” David responded flatly.

            The Colonel continued.  “I killed him myself and dearest Eva,” he nodded to the Greta’s mother, “and Madam Esmerelda brought him back to life.”  He looked squarely at David.  “Oh, yes.  He was quite dead, but the revival was not entirely successful, it is true.  He looks well, his heart is pumping and his mind seems whole, but he does not say much.  He has become violent and will not follow orders.  He sleeps days and is up nights, but most curiously, he will not eat.  All he takes is blood.  We have kept him well on pig’s blood from the butchers, but the ladies have no idea what the problem may be or how to correct it.”  The Colonel sighed.  “I had such hopes of reviving my regiment.”

            “So now you have taken to kidnapping innocent people?”  Greta could not hold her tongue.

            “A different, perhaps simpler idea.  The trick will be to have them appear perfectly normal but to work subtly for the cause.”

            “Which is?”

            The Colonel looked at Greta and David like they were stupid.  “Why, the revival of the Fatherland and the realization of the Fuehrer’s dream, now that we have a whole new generation of young men to work with.”

            “What?”  Greta did not follow.

            “World War Three.”  David spoke even more flatly than before.

            “But now.”  The Colonel became all friendly smiles, but Glen thought the smile looked wicked.  “The family spoke no German.  I assume the boy is the same, and we have left him out of all our conversation.”  He stepped up and bent down to smile at Glen.  Glen could barely keep himself from turning away.  “Do not worry, young man,” the Colonel spoke in English.  “Your family is here, safe and sound.  They came to visit me because I am an old friend of your father from the war.  Your father was in the war, was he not?”

            Glen shrugged.  His dad never talked about such things.

            “Anyway, I will bring you to them, shortly.  They were very afraid that you had gotten lost, but here you are, found and safe.  I am sure they will be very pleased to see you.”

            “What do you have in mind?”  Lady Eva asked in German.

            “Please, speak American for our young friend.  Everyone speaks American since the war.”  The Colonel sounded like he was gently scolding the woman.  Glen was only glad that the Colonel turned his face away, stood and took a step back.  “When the family is ready I thought this young man might be reunited with them.”

            Lady Eva nodded like she understood something.  “A test case,” she said.

            “If you like.”

            “Glen—“ Greta started to speak, but Glen interrupted, in English of course.

            “Yes, I know, but I want my family back.”

            “Good.”  The Colonel seemed to think the matter was settled.  “Gentlemen.”  He spoke to the three with the guns who had kept to the back.  “Will you escort Mister Bronstein and Frauline Gruber to their room, and bring the boy to where he can freshen up.”

            Glen quickly grabbed Greta’s hand.  “I would rather stay with my friend until my mom and dad get here.  Please?”  Glen put on his best pleading face.

            The Colonel did not think that was a very good idea, but he said, “Very well.”  One of the gunmen smiled and pointed them to the hall and stairs.  At the same time, a woman, much older than Greta’s mother who was bent from age came hobbling into the room from a door that likely led to the kitchen.  She took one look at the three visitors and shrieked in her loudest voice.

            “Kill it.  Kill him now.”  Her wrinkled, boney old finger flew up and pointed.  Glen barely kept himself from screaming in the witch’s face like he screamed in the haunted house.

            “The Jew?”  The Colonel did not understand.  “Do not worry Madam Esmerelda.  If there is one thing we are good at it is handling Jews.”

            “Kill him.”  Madam Esmerelda shrieked again.  “Kill him now.  He will ruin us all.”

            “The boy?”  The Colonel still did not get it.

            “I see only death and ruin.  The danger is too great.  No power on Earth…”

            “Calm yourself,” the colonel said, but by then, the three and their escort were climbing the stairs, Glen out front, dragging the others to hurry them, so they heard no more.

            “Who are you?  What are you doing here spying on that house?”  The speaker was a woman, young, blond, with blue eyes and not too many freckles.  “It isn’t safe.  You should run along home.”

            “But my family.”  Glen pointed toward the house. “My home is in America.”  The woman looked and frowned before she understood. 

            “Your family?  But how did you escape?”

            “I,” Glen had to think.  “I ran.  A voice in my head said run and I ran.”  Glen felt uncomfortable and a little afraid.

            The young woman got down to one knee to look him in the eye.  “Your family?”  Glen confirmed with a nod of his head.  “My name is Greta.  And I think you speak German very well for an American.”

            “I’m Glen.  I was Greta once.”  He paused, not because she said he was speaking German but because he thought of Greta and wondered why he did not think of her earlier.  She would have blended perfectly into the background.

            “You mean, I knew a Greta once.”

            Glen shook his head.  “No, I was Greta once.  She was a wise woman of the Goths, oh, long, long ago.”  He decided that maybe she had not come to mind because she was actually a Goth and not technically a German.  “Marcus Aurelius was Emperor back then.”

            Greta gave him a strange look but straightened up.  She shouted up the tree.  “David.  We have a complication.”

            A man climbed down out of the tree.  He had binoculars around his neck and swung from the last branch.  Glen had to use his hand to shade his eyes because the sun, nearly set, was at the man’s back.  “That side window looks like the only option,” the man said.

            “We have a complication.”  Greta repeated herself and pointed at Glen.   “Glen, this is David.  David, that was Glen’s family who was taken.”

            “I don’t get it.”  David ran his hand through his curly brown hair.  “What are they doing now that they need to take people off the streets.  I would think that would be a great risk if the locals started to disappear.”

            “But we aren’t locals,” Glen spoke up.  “We’re Americans.”

            “Tourists would give them much more time,” Greta nodded.

            David knelt down and smiled for Glen.  “Don’t worry, son.  We will get your family back, safe and sound.  You need to stay here and keep quiet and for a long time.  Can you do that?”  He pulled out a gun, a German Lugar from the war.  “Souvenir.”  He called it.

            Glen shook his head.  “I need to go with you.  Maybe I can break the enchantment.  You know, coercive magic has limits, like hypnosis.  A strong, familiar outside influence might break the spell.”

            David paused and looked up at Greta.  “How do you know that?”  He asked Glen but his eyes never left the young woman.

            “Greta told me,” Glen answered.  “My Greta, I mean.  Not her.”

            “And she is right,” Greta spoke up and then confirmed for David.  “He is right.  If they are enchanted and I don’t see how they could not be, the presence of their son and brother might be enough to break the enchantment.”

            “I don’t like risking the boy.”  David spoke, this time to Greta.

            “David,” Glen interrupted and his words came out in Hebrew.  “Are you Jewish.  Israeli, I bet.  Secret police maybe?”

            David frowned, grinned and frowned again.  “Are you a Jew?”

            “Nah!”  Glen sounded all American with that response.  “I’m a Presbyterian.”  He looked up at Greta.

            “Lutheran,” she said, softly.

            David shook his head.  “The German, maybe, but how do you speak Hebrew?”

            “I’ve been Jewish a few times,” Glen said like it was the most natural thing in the world.  “I was Korah long ago.  He fought the Witch of Endor, but I don’t like to think about that.  I don’t like witches.”

            David looked quickly at Greta.  She put on a serious face and put her hands on Glen’s shoulder.  “I don’t blame you,” she said.

            “Yeah.  My mom says the first time I saw the Wizard of Oz I ran from the room when the Wicked Witch of the West showed up and I wouldn’t go back no matter how much they begged.  I think I was three or four.”

            David stood, stuck the Luger in his back pocket and pulled out the corner of his shirt to cover it.  “I don’t like witches either, most of them anyway.”  He looked at Greta again.  “We better get going.  No telling what they are doing.” 

            Glen heard, “No telling what they are doing to Glen’s family,” but he was grateful David did not say it out loud.

            It was not far to the side window.  The house was on the end of the row and Glen imagined that was a kindness because only one poor family would share a wall with the witch house instead of two.  David kept his eyes on the corner of the house while Greta stepped up to the window.  Glen saw a mud colored stream leave Greta’s hand.  It was the color of that older woman’s hair, and Glen said as much.

            “You can see the magic?”  Greta asked as the stream penetrated the glass and reached the lock.  The window unlocked itself and drew itself up as well.

            “Sure,” Glen said.  “The other magic was purplish, but dark.  That’s why I ran.”

            Once the window was up, Greta turned to face Glen again.  “There must be some magic in you,” she said.  “Non-magical people cannot generally see the colors of the magic.”

            Glen shook his head.  “But maybe my Greta or another life is helping me see,” he said.

            “You are strange.”  Greta looked confused.  “I do not understand this talk of being other people.”

            “Ahem.”  David coughed quietly.  “Ladies first.”  

            Greta nodded and climbed up over the window ledge.  David helped Glen up to the window and Greta helped him on the other side.  She added “Shhh,” as if Glen did not know that.  David came last and fingered his gun as he touched his feet to the floor.  They were in a dark room since the window caught no light from the setting sun.  They imagined they were alone.  They found out differently when the lights came on and three men in suits already had their guns pulled.