Ekaterina Sedia - Running with the Pack

“I have truly enjoyed this evening, my friend,” said Basil after we were all done. “So few people will even speak to me, let alone join me in a repast . . . “

“I can’t imagine why,” I said. “You’d have to search far and wide to find a more hospitable feller.”

“Nonetheless,” he said, “it is time for you to leave.”

“It’s only about nine o’clock,” I said. “I think I’ll just sit here and digest the repast and maybe smoke a cigar or two, that is if you got any to spare, and then I’ll mosey on back to my humble dwelling.”

“You really must leave now,” he said.

“You got a ladyfriend due any minute, right?” I said with a sly smile. “Well, never let it be said that Lucifer Jones ain’t the soul of understanding and discretion. Why, I recall one time back in Cairo, or maybe it was Merrakech, that I . . . ”

“Hurry!” he shouted. “The moon is rising!”

“Now how could you possibly know that, sitting here in the back of the room?” I asked.

“I know!” he said.

I got up and walked over to the doorway and stuck my head out. “Well, son of a gun, the moon is out,” I said. “I don’t see your ladyfriend nowhere, though.”

I turned back to face him, but Count Basil de Chenza Lupo wasn’t nowhere to be seen. In fact, there wasn’t no one in the room except the old waiter and an enormous wolf that must have wandered in through the kitchen door.

“Well, I’ve heard of restaurants that got roaches,” I said, “and restaurants that got rats, but I do believe this is the first eatery I ever been to that was infested by wolves.” I turned to the waiter. “What happened to Basil?” I asked. “Did he go off to the necessary?”

The waiter shook his head.

“Then where is he?”

The waiter pointed to the wolf.

“I don’t believe I’m making myself clear,” I said. “I ain’t interested in no four legged critters with fleas and bad breath. Where is Basil?”

The waiter pointed to the wolf again.

“I don’t know why it’s so hard to understand,” I said. “That there is a wolf. I want to know what became of Basil.”

The waiter nodded his head. “Basil,” he said, pointing at the wolf again.

“You mean the wolf is named Basil, too?” I asked.

The waiter just threw his hands up and walked out of the room, leaving me alone with the wolf.

Well, I looked at the wolf for a good long while, and he looked right back at me, and as time went by it occurred to me that I hadn’t seen no other wolves in all my wanderings through Europe, and that some zoo ought to be happy to pay a healthy price for such a prime specimen, so I walked over kind of gingerly and let him smell the back of my hand, and when I was sure he wasn’t viewing me as a potential appetizer, I slipped my belt out of my pants and slid it around his neck and turned it into a leash.

“You come along with me, Basil,” I said. “Tonight you can sleep in my hotel room, and tomorrow we’ll set about finding a properly generous and appreciative home for you.”

I started off toward the door, but he dug his feet in and practically pulled my arm out of the socket.

“Now Basil,” I said, jerking on the leash with both hands, “I ain’t one to abuse dumb animals, but one way or the other you’re coming with me.”

He pulled back and whimpered, and then he snarled, and then he just went limp and laid down, but I was determined to get him out of there, and I started dragging him along the floor, and finally he whined one last time and got to his feet and started trotting alongside of me, and fifteen minutes later we reached the door of the Magyar Hotel. I had a feeling they had some policy or other regarding wild critters in the rooms, so I waited until the desk clerk went off to flirt with one of the maids, and then I opened the door and me and Basil made a beeline for the staircase, and reached the second floor without being seen. I walked on down the corridor until I came to my room, unlocked it, and shagged Basil into it. He looked more nervous and bewildered than vicious, and finally he hopped onto the couch and curled up and went to sleep, and I lay back down on the bed and drifted off while I was trying to figure out how many thousands of dollars a real live wolf was worth.

Except that when I woke up, all set to take Basil the wolf off to the zoo, he wasn’t there. Instead, laying naked on the couch and snoring up a storm, was Basil the Count, with my belt still around his neck.

I shook him awake, and he sat up, startled, and began blinking his eyes.

“You got something highly personal and just a tad improbable that you want to confide in me, Brother Basil?” I said.

“I tried to warn you,” he said plaintively. “I told you to leave, to hurry.”

“You considered seeing a doctor about this here condition?” I said. “Or maybe a veterinarian?”

He shook his head miserably. “It is a curse,” he said at last. “There is nothing that can be done about it. I am a werewolf, and that’s all there is to it.”

“And that’s why all them guys were running away from you at the station and looking askance at you on the street?”

He nodded. “I am an outcast, a pariah among my own people.”

“Yeah, well, I can see how it probably hampers your social life,” I opined.

“It has hampered all aspects of my life,” he said unhappily. “I have seen so many charlatans and poseurs trying to get the curse removed that I am practically destitute. I cannot form a lasting relationship. I dare not be among strangers when the moon comes out. And some of the behavior carries over: you saw me at the dinner table last night.”

“Well, it may have been a bit out of the ordinary,” I said soothingly, “but as long as you don’t lift your leg on the furniture, I don’t suppose anyone’s gonna object too strenuously. Especially since if they object at the wrong time of day, there’s a strong possibility they could wind up getting et.”

“You are the most understanding and compassionate man I’ve ever met, Doctor Jones,” he said, “but I am at the end of my tether. I don’t know what to do. I have no one to turn to. Only these accursed Gypsies will tolerate my presence, because it amuses them. I think very soon I shall end it all.”

At which point the Lord smote me with another of His heavenly revelations.

“Seems to me you’re being a mite hasty, Brother Basil,” I said.

“What is the use of going on?” he said plaintively. “I will never be able to remove the curse.”

“First of all, you got to stop thinking of your condition as a curse,” I continued. “What if I was to show you how the werewolf business could be a blessing in disguise?”

“Impossible!”

“You willing to bet five thousand dollars on that?” I asked.

“What are you talking about?” he demanded.

“You see,” I said, “the problem is that you ain’t never really examined yourself when the moon is out. You ain’t simply a werewolf, but you happen to be a damned fine-looking werewolf.”

“So what?”

“On my way into town, I passed an arena that holds a dog show every Saturday. The sign said that the prize money was ten thousand dollars.”

“You just said five,” he pointed out.

“Well, me and the Lord have got to have a little something to live on, too,” I said.

“What makes you think a wolf can win a dog show?” he said dubiously.

“Why don’t you just concentrate on being a handsome, manly type of critter and let me worry about the rest of it?” I said.

Well, we argued it back and forth for the better part of the morning, but finally he admitted that he didn’t see no better alternatives, and he could always commit suicide the next week if things didn’t work out, and I went off to buy a leash and some grooming equipment at the local pet store, and then stopped by the arena for an entry form. I didn’t know if he had an official werewolf name or not, so I just writ down Grand International Champion Basil on the form, and let it go at that.