Service meeting a werewolf in the Dutch Resistance."
"What's so unusual about that?" Henry passed an RV with American license plates and a small orange cat sleeping in the rear window. "Werewolves are very territorial."
"If they were living as part of normal. ..." She thought for a second and began again. "If they were living as part of human communities, how did they avoid the draft?"
"Conscription was a British-North American phenomenon," Henry reminded her. "Europe was scrambling for survival and it happened so quickly that a few men and women in a few isolated areas were easy to miss. If necessary, they abandoned 'civilization' for the duration of the war and lived of the land."
"All right, what about British and North American werewolves then?"
"There are no British werewolves. ..." "Why not?" Vicki interrupted. "It's an island. Given the human propensity for killing what it doesn't understand, there's not enough space for both humans and wer." He paused for a moment then added, "There may have been wer in Britain once. ..."
Vicki slumped lower in the seat and riddled with the vents. I don't want to die, Ms. Nelson.
"So the wer aren't worldwide?"
"No. Europe as far south as northern Italy, most of Russia, and the more northwestern parts of China and Tibet. As far as I know there are no native North American wer, but I could be wrong. There's been a fair bit of immigration, however."
"All post World War II?"
"Not all."
"So my original question stands. How did they avoid the draft?"
Vicki heard him shrug, shoulders whispering against the thick tweed seatback. "I have no idea but, as most of the wer are completely color-blind, I'd guess they flunked the physical. I do know that the allies used color-blind observers in aerial reconnaissance; because they had to perceive everything by shape they were able to see right through most camouflage. Maybe some of that lot were wer."
"Well, what about you, then? How does a vampire convince the government he should be allowed to do his bit for liberty?" Then she remembered just how convincing Henry could be.
"Uh, never mind."
"Actually, I didn't even approach the Canadian government. I stowed away on a troop ship and returned to England where an old friend of mine had risen to a very powerful position. He arranged everything."
"Oh." She didn't ask who the old friend was. She didn't want to know - her imagination was already flashing her scenes of Henry and certain prominent figures in compromising positions.
"What happened to the villagers?"
"What?"
"The villagers. Where you met Perkin. Did they all die?"
"No, of course not!"
Vicki couldn't see any of course not about it. After all, they'd wiped out an entire squad of SS
and the Nazis had disapproved of things like that.
"Perkin and I set it up so that it looked as though they'd been killed in an allied air strike taking out the railway line."
"You called in an air strike?"
She could hear the grin in his voice as he answered.
"Didn't I mention this old friend had risen to a very powerful position?"
"So." One thing still bothered her. "The villagers knew there was a pack of werewolves living amongst them?"
"Not until the war started, no."
"And after the war started?"
"During the war, any enemy of the Nazis was a welcome ally. The British and the Americans even managed to get along."
She supposed that made a certain amount of sense. "And what about after the war?"
"Perkin emigrated. I don't know."
They drove in silence for a while, one of only a few vehicles on the highway now that Toronto had been left behind. Vicki closed her eyes and thought of Henry's story. In some ways the war, for all its complications, had been a simple problem. At least the enemies had been well defined.
"Henry," she asked suddenly, "do you honestly think that a pack of werewolves can live as a part of human society without their neighbors knowing?"
"You're thinking city, Vicki; the Heerkens'
"What's so unusual about that?" Henry passed an RV with American license plates and a small orange cat sleeping in the rear window. "Werewolves are very territorial."
"If they were living as part of normal. ..." She thought for a second and began again. "If they were living as part of human communities, how did they avoid the draft?"
"Conscription was a British-North American phenomenon," Henry reminded her. "Europe was scrambling for survival and it happened so quickly that a few men and women in a few isolated areas were easy to miss. If necessary, they abandoned 'civilization' for the duration of the war and lived of the land."
"All right, what about British and North American werewolves then?"
"There are no British werewolves. ..." "Why not?" Vicki interrupted. "It's an island. Given the human propensity for killing what it doesn't understand, there's not enough space for both humans and wer." He paused for a moment then added, "There may have been wer in Britain once. ..."
Vicki slumped lower in the seat and riddled with the vents. I don't want to die, Ms. Nelson.
"So the wer aren't worldwide?"
"No. Europe as far south as northern Italy, most of Russia, and the more northwestern parts of China and Tibet. As far as I know there are no native North American wer, but I could be wrong. There's been a fair bit of immigration, however."
"All post World War II?"
"Not all."
"So my original question stands. How did they avoid the draft?"
Vicki heard him shrug, shoulders whispering against the thick tweed seatback. "I have no idea but, as most of the wer are completely color-blind, I'd guess they flunked the physical. I do know that the allies used color-blind observers in aerial reconnaissance; because they had to perceive everything by shape they were able to see right through most camouflage. Maybe some of that lot were wer."
"Well, what about you, then? How does a vampire convince the government he should be allowed to do his bit for liberty?" Then she remembered just how convincing Henry could be.
"Uh, never mind."
"Actually, I didn't even approach the Canadian government. I stowed away on a troop ship and returned to England where an old friend of mine had risen to a very powerful position. He arranged everything."
"Oh." She didn't ask who the old friend was. She didn't want to know - her imagination was already flashing her scenes of Henry and certain prominent figures in compromising positions.
"What happened to the villagers?"
"What?"
"The villagers. Where you met Perkin. Did they all die?"
"No, of course not!"
Vicki couldn't see any of course not about it. After all, they'd wiped out an entire squad of SS
and the Nazis had disapproved of things like that.
"Perkin and I set it up so that it looked as though they'd been killed in an allied air strike taking out the railway line."
"You called in an air strike?"
She could hear the grin in his voice as he answered.
"Didn't I mention this old friend had risen to a very powerful position?"
"So." One thing still bothered her. "The villagers knew there was a pack of werewolves living amongst them?"
"Not until the war started, no."
"And after the war started?"
"During the war, any enemy of the Nazis was a welcome ally. The British and the Americans even managed to get along."
She supposed that made a certain amount of sense. "And what about after the war?"
"Perkin emigrated. I don't know."
They drove in silence for a while, one of only a few vehicles on the highway now that Toronto had been left behind. Vicki closed her eyes and thought of Henry's story. In some ways the war, for all its complications, had been a simple problem. At least the enemies had been well defined.
"Henry," she asked suddenly, "do you honestly think that a pack of werewolves can live as a part of human society without their neighbors knowing?"
"You're thinking city, Vicki; the Heerkens'
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